Impostor Syndrome

by Mishell Baker

  “The queen summoned me,” she said. “To translate. Again.”

  “But how did she summon you? Did you tell her your name?”

  “She can see it,” said Caveat. “Anytime I come to her. And I’ve come to her a lot.”

  Spirit-sight. That’s what I’d been trying to remember about that coyote. Reading the names of any spirit that came to him.

  “Shit, Caveat,” I said. “This is not good.”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” said Caveat. “To you she’s a monster; to me she’s just the queen. She has the right to give me orders, and she’s never asked me to do anything I objected to. Can we get back to the topic at hand?”

  “Yes, of course, sorry.”

  A voice emerged from the queen’s direction, though her mouth didn’t move. Her face was turned toward Brand. “Why do you resist?” she said.

  Brand snorted. “It’s not rocket science, Birdbrain. Did you think, after what you did to my Echo, and what you made me do to my allies, that I wouldn’t jump at the first chance to defect to the sparkly side?”

  For a moment Shiverlash stood in silence, seemingly unable to process the enormity of the betrayal.

  “Caveat,” I said quietly. “Did Shiverlash order Elliott to destroy the White Rose? Do you know?”

  “Are you serious?” said Caveat blandly. After a moment’s delay, she remembered to project her astonishment. “Did you think even for a minute that he did it on his own? Just because he won’t take abuse indefinitely, you assume he’s evil?”

  “Whoa, whoa . . .”

  “The queen didn’t know his name. So she had to wait until he—”

  Caveat froze like a bad Skype connection as her queen’s command overrode her communication. The disembodied voice of Shiverlash spoke again, instead.

  “Your ‘Elliott’ is my subject,” she said, “just as this one is. But his name was not imprinted into my memory. I could not call him until he released himself from bondage, and then he was drawn, as all spirits are, to my song.”

  “With all due respect, Your Majesty,” I said, “what the fuck? Don’t you have enough hell to raise in your own lands?”

  “I do not have access to the ‘portals’ that King Winterglass uses, and so for the time being I am stranded here while I devise another means of return. Meanwhile, you provided an opportunity that I could not, in good conscience, let slip away.”

  “Did you seriously just use the word ‘conscience’ to describe that decision?”

  “Even by Seelie standards,” said Shiverlash, “that was among the most nonviolent actions I might have taken. We are at war. But I should not be surprised by your lack of appreciation for my restraint. From our very first encounter, you have treated me and my cause with profound disrespect. But as a creature of honor I could not help but attempt to find common ground with the one who freed me from my own enslavement.”

  Of course. Of course she’d want to see that place crumble to the ground, and not just because it would devastate the sidhe. When Shiverlash had been trapped in the form of a harp, the White Rose had been the site of her imprisonment—and regular use—for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. That situation had been due to her own ridiculous act of spite, but still. I was disappointed in myself for not having spotted her hand in this immediately.

  “What did you do to Elliott? Is he all right?”

  “Why should I wish to harm my subject?” said Shiverlash. “Once he had executed my command, he chose to abandon the body and destroy his link to it. His actions not only prevented my repeating the command, but showed me the extent of his objection. I released him from my service and will not call him again. My intent was not to harm him.”

  “Cry me a river.”

  “I do not understand why you act as though we are adversaries,” said Shiverlash. “We both wish freedom for every being in Arcadia.”

  “Yeah, yeah, and we’re both great at destroying shit, but that doesn’t make us alike. I’m just a clumsy idiot; you do it on purpose. I refuse to set one Arcadian race free by destroying another, and that’s what you want. Don’t lie to me—oh that’s right, you can’t.”

  “There comes a time when a people are too corrupt to be saved,” she said. “Do you not, even in your own world, kill those who kill? Take the lives of those who are too dangerous to live?”

  “Honey, the vast majority of the people you want to exterminate are about as dangerous as inbred kittens. Most of them don’t even realize spirits are people. It isn’t their fault they’ve been lied to for longer than they have memory.”

  “You delude yourself,” said Shiverlash, “but I am not here to debate a child who has lived barely the length of a lightning-strike. I still have need of you, now that there is no honorable way to access another creature of iron.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t just get to ‘access’ me,” I said, “but, unfortunately, I also still have need of you if there’s going to be any hope of a united High Court against Dame Belinda. There has to be some way we can find a compromise.”

  “There will be no united Unseelie High Court while Winterglass lives.”

  “I beg to differ,” I said, holding up the bag. “I got what he asked for. But you’re going to have to let me go so I can deliver it to him. Once that’s done, he’s on my side. Bound to my side, in fact. So he has to listen if I start talking about freeing the spirits.”

  “Forget about Winterglass,” she said. “He is easily destroyed.”

  “Well, he just saved my best friend, and also I happen to need him. For something you’d never help me with.” Namely, sending a spirit to prison in Tjuan’s place.

  “Ask, and we shall see.”

  “If I even tell you what it is, you’ll rip me to pieces. Not risking it.”

  “It disappoints me,” said Shiverlash, “that you still fail to see the inevitable. Two worlds are arrayed against us, and we have only each other to rely upon.”

  “If we’re really such great pals,” I said, “then let me go. Let me get what I need from Winterglass, and then I’ll come back and help you build a better Arcadia. I know my promises are worthless to you, but I’ll give one anyway.”

  Shiverlash was silent for a long moment. Then she simply spread her wings—God, they seemed to swallow the whole sky—and launched herself into the air, leaving Caveat behind. The little construct still hovered in the air in the same spot, at the queen’s shoulder height.

  “Hey,” I said to her gently. “Do you think you’ll be able to keep an eye on the queen? Will you be able to get free to report to me if she tries any more fuckery?”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said, and then she vanished.

  Brand crouched down. I pulled myself up by his mane, resettled myself on his back. “Let’s go,” I said. “We have to be close by now.”

  Sure enough, he’d not loped another five minutes before I saw the tall rock formation with the winding path up the side. I could even dimly spot the black semicircle of the Gate at the top of it.

  “There,” I said.

  “Right!” said Brand. “That’s the fake drop-off that hides your Gate, right? I hate that ward.”

  A vast wave of relief swept my worries away; even if Brand were to disintegrate underneath me, I’d still be able to hobble the rest of the way on my own.

  Brand loped toward the Gate, but as we approached, five White Rose guards and a half dozen of Skyhollow’s retinue emerged from where they’d been crouched behind scrub, waiting for us.

  “Not good,” said Brand.

  “They knew where we were headed,” I said. “They didn’t even bother following; just took the road. Slowed us down so they’d have time to cut us off.”

  “I can take them,” said Brand.

  “All of them? At once?”

  “Enough that you can get away. It’s just a few steps past them.”

  The guards began to advance toward us. Some had staves, but no bows, no sharp blades. They were still trying t
o take me alive.

  “Wait,” I said to Brand. “They aren’t armed to kill; you are. I’m not turning this into a massacre when they’re just doing their jobs.”

  “Fucking cream puff.”

  I tried to think, fast. We didn’t have a lot in the way of nondeadly resources. “How close do you think they’d dare get to that abyss?” I said.

  “Seelie are cowards. They’ll scream and run like gazelles at the sight of it.”

  “And you? Are you afraid?”

  “Terrified. Difference is, I’m still Unseelie enough at heart to enjoy it.”

  “All right then,” I said. “It’s time to play a little game of chicken.”

  40

  Brand began to back up, his eyes on the wall of sidhe guards advancing on us.

  “Explain,” he said to me.

  “First we need to bait them. Can’t let them know we’re leading them somewhere; it needs to look like we’re panicking.”

  “That doesn’t seem too hard.”

  “Also you need a plausible reason to run slow enough that they think they can catch us. Can you fake an injury?”

  “I can do better than that!”

  And without warning, the stupid manticore charged directly at the guards.

  They had all moved close together, instinctively trying to shield one another, so Brand just plowed through them like bowling pins. There weren’t enough of them to stand up against an all-out cavalry charge, but their mental unity worked in their favor; one of the sidhe at the edge of their row managed to keep his feet. He quickly brought his staff into play, striking Brand in the rear leg as he charged by.

  Brand let out a brassy roar of real pain, making me cry out as well, since I was too busy clinging to his mane to shield my ears against the noise. He wheeled around, knocked two guards to the side with one forepaw, while I hung on desperately, still screaming. For a moment Brand looked as though he were gearing up for a second charge; the guards arranged themselves as though to prepare for it. At the last minute, Brand bolted to one side instead, the change in momentum nearly unseating me.

  He was hobbling three-legged now, one hind leg dragging in the sand, but even so, the guards were barely able to keep him in sight as he lurched away.

  “Are you okay?” I said. “Did they hurt you for real?”

  “That fucker cracked my fucking thigh bone,” he moaned. “Charmed staff. The pain . . . bothers me more than I thought it would. I’m not used to even caring about it.”

  “Don’t go all feathery on me now, Brand,” I said. “I need you at maximum badass.”

  “If they catch us,” said Brand miserably, “you know they’ll have no problem killing me to get to you.”

  “Not going to let you die on my watch again,” I said. “If only because Naderi would tie me to the back of a truck and drag me down the 10. If they catch us, you just dump me and fly away. It’s me they want, so I doubt they’ll chase you.”

  “You’re sure they won’t kill you?” he said. He was panting as he ran; he hadn’t done that before. I felt a twinge of genuine concern.

  “I haven’t had a trial,” I said. “Pissed off as they are, they’re Seelie. They don’t just murder people. Worst-case scenario, I’m decorating the duke’s dining hall in a nice suit of vines, or back in that cage under what used to be the White Rose, until they decide what to do with me.”

  “Which, let’s face it, will probably be to execute you.”

  “Are you caring about that now?” I said. “I can’t keep track.”

  The sidhe guards fanned out in such a way that they actually helped us, herding us directly toward the abyss we were hoping to lead them to. They must have thought they were corralling us against an impassable obstacle, forcing us to surrender, which was fine by me.

  As we got close enough to the abyss for even me to feel the bone-deep dissonance of its presence, Brand began to falter a little.

  “How’s the leg?” I asked him.

  “Not the problem,” he said. “This may not be such a good idea, Millie. They’re still following. Just how close do you expect me to get to this thing? And what makes you think they won’t be willing to get even closer?”

  “Trust me,” I said.

  “I really hate it when you people say that. Especially you, with your track record of getting me killed and whatnot.”

  As we got closer to the void, further approach became almost unbearable. The nearer we got, the less there was to look at besides void, and the more my stomach churned and my ears rang. Brand slowed, hesitated, and finally stopped.

  “I can’t go any closer,” he said. “If this isn’t close enough, you’re just going to have to carry on without me.”

  “All right, then,” I said, and started to carefully slide off his back.

  “You’re insane,” he said.

  “Sweet-talker.” I ignored the tremor in my voice and the faint taste of copper on my tongue, giving him a slap on the shoulder before I checked the Vessel’s position against my hip and then started walking right up to the edge of that thing.

  The guards made it as far as Brand’s stopping place, at which point he promptly launched himself into the air. A couple of them went after him, but the rest must have seen it as the diversion it was, because they stayed, fanning out to block my escape routes.

  I pulled out the Vessel from where my pants had been pressing it against my hip and held it up so they could all see. I searched and found Greyfall in the group, addressed him since I knew he could understand me.

  “Do you recognize this?” I said.

  All the guards’ eyes went glassy and unfocused for a moment, in a way that suggested to me that they were communicating among themselves.

  “That’s the Medial Vessel,” said Greyfall, hesitating for the first time. “For building Gates.” His tone held a hint of reverence, and as I looked around at the faces of the other guards, I saw that they, too, knew exactly what I held.

  “You know how this goes,” I said. “You’ve been threatened by me very recently. So this is the part where I tell you that if you don’t turn around and go straight back to Skyhollow, I am going to toss the Medial Vessel into the void.”

  “As you point out,” said Greyfall, “I have been threatened by you very recently. And what I learned from that is that you’ll probably destroy the Vessel anyway, even if I give you what you want.”

  “Please don’t do this,” said another voice. Whisperdrift, the steel-blue woman with the yellow wings. She advanced to stand at Greyfall’s side. “Just come with us,” she said. “I know that you’re King Claybriar’s Echo. He is a good man; try to be worthy of him. Do the right thing here. Face justice.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “This is about more than me at this point. Dame Belinda—our queen, you’d call her—she is not a good woman. She’s a tyrant. If I let you take me, you’ll take the Vessel back to her. And if she has it, very bad things are going to happen. Old bad things will continue happening, and she’ll think up some new bad things to keep anyone from rebelling again. We’re this close to completely remaking the Arcadia Project without her.”

  “It is not your place to depose your queen,” said Greyfall in disgust. “This is exactly what happens when even one commoner gets lifted above his station. The next thing you know, you have collapsing palaces, war, mayhem.”

  “What else are the commoners supposed to do, exactly?” I said. “What other powers, besides mayhem, have you allowed them? The Project hardly ever lets them through the Gates to look for their Echoes.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” said Whisperdrift, looking fretful. “They won’t follow the rules that keep everyone safe.”

  I recognized Belinda’s rhetoric, as I’d heard it filtered through Alvin last fall. Even the sidhe themselves apparently embraced Belinda’s line of bullshit as though it were religion. It all seemed so futile; she’d had decades to indoctrinate everyone. I felt anger eating away at my composure.

  “That’s a
ll lies,” I said. “A faun and a manticore did just fine, once they had Echoes to ground them. The sidhe get let through in droves just to look for their Echoes, so why do you act like it’s some kind of natural superiority that allows you to—”

  “Silence!” Greyfall began resolutely to approach. “Enough of this,” he said.

  I could tell by the wide darkness of his eyes, by the lashing of his tail, that he was as terrified of the void as I was. I was lucky enough to have my back to it, so I had to respect his bravery.

  “Give me the Vessel,” he said, “and your cooperation will be weighed in your favor at your trial. Do not make this more contentious than it needs to be.”

  “Wait!” I said, reaching behind me over the void and letting the Vessel dangle. That brought him up short. “Please just listen to me,” I said. “I’ll go face my trial. I will. But you have to let me take the Vessel somewhere safe first. Safe from Dame Belinda. I can’t exactly explain why, but giving this to her will give her the power to harm a huge number of humans, most of them innocent. And it will make everything I’ve done all month, everything that has been lost, absolutely meaningless!”

  “Even if I cared about that,” said Greyfall, “which I do not, your promises are worthless.”

  “Here’s a promise you can take to the bank,” I said, trembling with fury. “If you take a single step closer to me, any of you, and I mean a single step, I promise I will toss this bag into the void.”

  He continued to approach, and I realized that, only partially through my own fault, I had created a man I could no longer bluff. For a moment I whited out in complete panic.

  I need to stress that it was only for a moment, and that what I ultimately did was a calculated decision, a split-second weighing of pros and cons. Most of the pros and cons, anyway. There was one I’ll admit I didn’t consider at that precise juncture.

  I didn’t do the thing panic yelled at me to do, which was to take a step backward. Just to let myself fall. To get out of the corner I’d painted myself into the only way I could, by ceasing to exist entirely. That thought pulled at me like a black hole, but apparently I’d not yet reached the event horizon, because I veered away from that decision, savagely cut off all access to my emotions, and looked at the facts.