No matter how many times Megan saw the picture, she still swore that the eyes of the Goddess Brigid followed her when she moved. The woman's expression was one of peace, but her gaze was intense anyway. The grass almost seemed to sway around the legs of the calf resting at one side of the goddess, her hand on its head. The leaves in the trees did likewise, including the tree the snake wound its way out from, encircling the goddess's other arm.
Megan stared at it for a while, then paused. “Sorry. All due respect—lots—but my Dad gave me this bit of Botticelli, and I think I need to focus on finding it," she said, finally tearing her eyes away from the painting and moving back towards the books. "Do you have any idea which one it is?" she asked the pixie.
"Absolutely," Ashling said, gesturing towards one of the many shelves. "It's the one with the Botticelli fragment in it. It's probably on that shelf. If not, it's on one of the others."
At the start of the commentary, Megan started to thank her, then heard the rest of it and decided against it. "Since you're being so helpful, want to help me look?"
"I'd love to," Ashling agreed, hopping off of Megan's shoulder onto a bookshelf, starting to scale around in search of the right book.
"I thought pixies were good at finding things," Megan said, starting to look for the proper scrap as well, among her father's diverse and occasionally disturbing literature.
"Places. Pixies are good at finding places. Which sometimes leads to things, but not usually books. See, books cheat. Really good books are dozens of places at once."
Megan set to looking through the books, pulling them out one at a time, looking for the match. At first, she looked over the title of every book. The majority were in languages she didn't read, but she made an effort.
“Von ainem wutrich der hies Trakle waida von der Walachei.” Megan read a very slim, very old volume with consternation.
“That's German. Basically 'About Some Jerk Named Dracula from Wallachia.”
“Okay,” said Megan. “'A True & Faithful RELATION OF What passed for many Yeers Between Dr. JOHN DEE (A Mathematician of Great Fame in Q. ELIZ. And King JAMES their Reignes) and Some Spirits.' Yeers. Seriously. Well, Justin says they weren't wrong: we just invented new ways of being right and making other people wrong.”
“He's got a point,” Ashling said. “People always do, if you give them time enough.”
“'Malleus Maleficarum,'” Megan said.
“He wouldn't put a good bookmark in there,” Ashling said. “It gets too boring.”
“I think this next one is Ann Coulter's autobiography.”
“Now that one's really scary,” said Ashling.
After enough time, Megan gave up, and just focused on trying not to guess at the tragic stories behind the various bookmarks, or how they might connect to the particular books, and focused entirely on trying to find a fragment of a Botticelli.
It was on the third shelf she checked: a strip of canvas with verdigris pigment and one torn, charred edge.
“See?” said Ashling. “I was right.”
Megan ignored her and took the leather-bound book to one of the comfortable chairs set haphazardly about the room to start reading. There was no title, just a single snowflake-like image branded into the front of the heavy book.
At first, all she got from it was that it was written in ancient Gaelic. She could piece through a little bit, from her studies and working with the music book, but not enough to make the words make sense. As she was about to ask for Ashling's help in figuring out why her father pointed her towards this book, though, more of it started to make sense. It was less that the letters changed, and more like her perceptions of them altered.
The word here and there turned to sentences, and then those formed paragraphs—stories of war. She connected the names of some of the Gods and some of the Fomoire. Eventually, enough made sense that she started recognizing the narrator: this was one of her father's journals. As she realized that, the reading became faster still, hearing whispers of her father's rich voice reading the passages to her.
She startled a little when she felt Ashling crawling up onto her chair and over her shoulder. "You need help with the reading?" Ashling asked.
"I've got it,” Megan said. “Something weird with this book."
"Huh, your Dad must have enchanted it with you in mind."
"So, it's not doing the weird translating thing for you?"
"Why would it? I read Gaelic just fine."
"Are there any languages you don't know? I mean, we know you know Gaelic..."
"All of the Celtic languages, actually."
"All right, those, and Klingon, German, Spanish, Corvid, Japanese, Squirrel..."
"Sure, I have a gift for languages. But my C++ is pretty weak, and then there's whatever Ozzy Osbourne speaks."
"Okay, got it. So, you've never seen this book before?"
"Your father kept a lot of journals."
"So you don't know what's in this one?"
"I'm almost positive that it's full of words. You can keep reading to find out."
Megan looked back to the book, and resumed reading. As she did, she noticed that, as the book continued, there was a shift in tone that suggested to her, along with the events being described, that it was one of the oldest in the room, held together by faerie magic across the centuries.
Rather than being a reflection on old wars, or theories, much of it was a firsthand account of the time period around the Battle of Mag Tuired. She read early encounters with Orlaith and Inwar, impressions of the distant Gods, and more direct experiences with their children. She read about allies and friends dying, or going on to victory and glory.
She skipped ahead to the description of Lugh killing Balor, finding herself feeling smug enough about it to read it five or six times. There was more, but she skimmed over that, going back to read the most exciting parts a few more times. Something in the accounts of the time after the battle nagged at her, but most of that was boring, with a lot of names, places, and mentions of rewards for the heroes and officers of the day. There were a lot of speeches from Lugh.
The part that felt least like a history textbook was Riocard's discussing of his smith-god friend.
“Among these responsibilities and rewards, my divine drinking companion has been making one of his silver arms for the brave little Northman. It's good to see him doing anything like himself. Of his lost brother he will not speak. Of his mother he speaks with strain. Of his father he says only that the Fomoire were naturally a water people and that soon they should stay there.”
The rest was still hard to focus on. For one of the big untouchable Gods that Riocard wasn't cool enough to approach, Lugh really seemed to care about statistics and responsibilities, and Megan's father had paid more attention than she could have.
Eventually, she skipped further ahead, to see if it got more interesting again. Her father hadn't seen the Fomoire driven down, couldn't confirm or deny the rumors of kidnappings, hadn't witnessed the spells that drained Gorias and sealed the lake. He hadn't been essential personnel for the Gods. But he was there when they left.
His account of the God's departure, leaving the realms they were in far enough behind that their ties to the Fomoire would not break the ice. There was the bit about Lugh leaving final words for the Sorcerer-King of Gorias and his people. There were the Gods, of all sorts, passing across into whatever the other world was. But Riocard had struggled to express himself about the process, particularly its culmination as Brigid tearfully crossed last after looking at him for a moment. Megan figured maybe part of the crossing used music. That made sense: the biggest Faerie ceremonies, after all, were meant to replicate what the Gods could do with just four musical notes. That and his idolization of the last Goddess through were all Megan could make of one line:
“I could try forever in vain to sing that song. I may.”
Then the journal simply ended, despite having a lot of pages left. Those contained notes in the same handwriting,
but often, a more reflective or analytical tone, as if they were added later.
"He didn't fill this journal. You said he kept a lot of them?"
"Sure. But let me guess, he gets through some big event, and then sort of puts in a 'To be continued?'"
"Kind of. There's a lot of notes and things on stuff in this book, but if it was a journal, you'd think he'd have finished it before he started writing in a new one, right?"
"Why would he do that?"
"Let me guess, you're going to say that it's something about that story being done, so of course he'd move on?"
Ashling shifted, leaning out from Megan's shoulder, with a perplexed expression. "Just the opposite. He left space in all of his journals, just in case those stories weren't over yet. Things that you think are done, or happened a long time ago might still be important. Or, you know, he might think of something he missed before."
Megan considered that. "So, how does he not-miss something he missed when he was actually right there?"
"People get better, and wiser, and all sorts of things with more experience. Why shouldn't stories?"
"You mean, like when you add griffons, unicorns, and personal catapults?"
"Griffons or unicorns, not both. It's just ridiculous otherwise."
"Ah, right. We wouldn't want any of your stories to get ridiculous."
With Ashling smiling and explaining how artistic credibility was vital, Megan returned to the book. Out of curiosity, she turned to the end, to see what her father's last notes might have been. On the final page, he switched from Gaelic to English.
“One bit of advice from the start, dearest: never be too trusting of any explanation of divine forces that makes perfect sense.”
Of course her father would put advice from the start at the end of the book. It did get her thinking, though. She went back to the section she'd struggled with the most, trying to figure out what she was missing.
"Hey Ashling, I need some help with history.” She pointed to the page. “I can read the book, but names and tribes and stuff aren't translated, obviously. Who were these people, and why don't they show up anywhere else?"
"Remember Lani's whole thing about the names of the people who built stuff, and work-crews?"
"Yeah, of course. So these were, like, blacksmiths and stuff?"
"Some of them,” Ashling said. “And some of them are sort of like Lugh's work crew, but, you know, for war, instead of building temples. And…well, unlike people who write history books, Riocard did know these guys."
Megan shut the book and tucked it into her bag. "I need to find Lani."
"I'm sure she'd be really happy about their literary presence and all, but..."
"No, not that. I think I know what we're doing."
Chapter 6: Unstoppable
They found Lani and Cassia talking about Christmas.
“If your mom wants family time baking and whatever, do it,” Cassia said. “There's only so much we can sit on edge here. It's definitely going to eat into prime reveling. Violet and I have stuff to do this time of year.”
And there was the subject of Violet again, with all it led to. Even though Lani and Cassia now turned to Megan, she found her momentum gone as she started thinking about her effect on people, about whether she was Always On.
"So... is there anything about Violet's background to know?" Megan asked.
"What do you mean? Her grandparents are from Haiti."
"Yeah, but, I mean, do we know that they're human? Or are you dating a part ...whatever they've got in Haiti?" Cassia had said satyrs were different, but was even she making it work with a full-on mortal?
"They've got no end of things in Haiti, but pretty sure Violet's all human...well... as much as one can say."
"What?"
"People forget these days that humans and the Gods are wrapped up. There's a history there. It's maybe a little easier for Greeks to remember because the demigods did so much of the eventful stuff."
Megan listened, vaguely remembering something Ashling had said years ago about 'the gods and their mortal children.'
"So anyway, go far back enough and who knows?” Cassia said, as Megan found herself questioning everything. “But Violet's human for all practical purposes,” the saxophonist continued. “It’s amazing we've lasted this long, but I guess we're just that good."
Lani watched this exchange suspiciously. “So, Megan, we're all invited to my house tonight.”
"I don't want to talk about that just yet,” Megan said, trying to get herself back on track “I want to talk about the spear."
"Which spear?"
"Lugh's spear."
"Okay. Well, you remember how we told you how he killed Balor. So the thing is—"
"—that the wielder is unstoppable," Megan interrupted. "Because he didn't just kill Balor: he turned the tide of battle, forced a temporary truce, and made the Fomoire bards take a math test at spearpoint."
Lani blinked slightly, then smiled. "Figures you'd have researched really scary stuff like math tests."
Megan smiled. "Yeah. But I've got to cover a lot now. Queen and all."
"Okay, so why are we talking about the spear, now?"
"Because I don't think he took it with him."
"How do you figure that?" Lani asked.
"I was doing some reading. There's all this discussion about Lugh's spear carriers, and people bearing it to him from Gorias, sending folks to fetch it."
"Where were you reading all of this? I don't remember that in most of the ballads," Lani said.
"My Dad's journals. There were a lot of confusing details and stuff, but my Dad saw the Gods leave. Anyway, every time the spear showed up, it was a big deal... and there was no big deal there."
“Sure,” Cassia said. “But the Gods leaving thing was a pretty big deal in its own right."
Megan nodded. "Right, but there was also a bunch of stuff about how concerned Lugh was with his people. And he was talking to his officers and work crews right before he left. I think he left it for them. He knew the Fomoire were just trapped, not gone for good. It would fit every other account I found of it."
"So, you really think he just left his weapon behind?" Lani asked.
"Lugh had a bunch of weapons. A flaming spear from some King that's not the same, one that he could throw that came back to his hand—the one he killed Balor with didn't do that—a fraggle sword or something..."
"Fragarach," Cassia said.
"Right, that thing. But the point is, he was a walking armory. But that spear kept going back to Gorias. I think he wanted it there as some kind of insurance policy."
"Which doesn't do us any good. The Fomoire are also in Gorias, behind a wall of fire," Lani pointed out.
"Sure, but eventually they won't be. They'll be coming here," Megan said.
Lani shook her head. "When I said you should try to do something, I didn't mean leading an attack on the Fomoire's base. I was thinking maybe you'd have a brilliant idea to help hold the portals you couldn't close or something to protect Earth."
"I'm working on that one, too," Megan said. "But first things first. I didn't say anything about an attack. I was kind of thinking maybe we could find a way to sneak in while they're focusing on An Teach Deiridh."
"Our last attempt to sneak past the Fomoire didn't go so well," Lani said.
"Right, so we're probably due for some better luck," Megan said.
Lani sighed. "That's not how probability works."
"But sometimes it's how Faerie works. We could really use some unstoppable about now, and that's what the spear is supposed to make someone."
Lani looked towards Cassia, then back to Megan. "All right, so I said I'd follow you if you came up with something. And that's definitely something. So, how are we going to do this?"
"That's the part I don't know yet," Megan said. "Aside from knowing we have one big advantage on our side."
"What's that?"
"They'll never expect it."
La
ni grinned. "Okay, I'll grant you that. We should tell the others and get their input too."
“Well, Jude's going to feel confident in our sneaking,” Cassia said. “While Maxwell's going to say we can always just turn and fight if the sneaking doesn't work.”
The grins continued. Then Lani's expression sobered. "You also realize that General Inwar will try to forbid you from going. They need you here eventually, and this sounds kind of like a suicide mission."
"I wasn't planning to ask permission," Megan said.
"That's more like it," Cassia said.
"Then when he finds out, he'll try to stop you," Lani said.
"I'm working on figuring that part out too," Megan said. "I don't plan on committing suicide, but I'm going to do everything I can to do my part. And this seems like it could make the biggest difference."
"What about the things Inwar is looking for?" Lani asked.
"He's looking for them.” Megan paused. “Is the Fal Stone on the list for fetching?”
“Probably not,” said Lani.
“Do you want me to get Finn on that?” asked Cassia.
“Well, later on, we don't want the Fomoire's giant-shark-king getting to it, just in case it's somehow useful to him,” Megan noted. “Anyway, I bet none of the General's people are planning to search in Gorias."
"Okay, you have a point there," Lani said. "And we have some time for you to come up with a plan. We can't get past the wall of fire any more than the Fomoire can. Which also means you should come back to Earth with us."
"I really should," Megan said. "I want to talk to my Mom before we go."
"Kerr is coming over to help with the holiday baking too. You don't want to miss the sugar cookies."
"Bribing me with Kerr's cookies is cheating, and likely to be highly successful," Megan said. "But what about brownie scandal? That's even more days off. And the kitchens have been so busy with supplies."
Lani's grin returned. "Kerr isn't taking vacation days. Kerr's tending to the personal chef needs of Her Majesty and a portion of the engineering crew. Because you'll think better with music and sugar cookies."
All's Fair (Fair Folk Chronicles Book 4) Page 3