Red Hood's Revenge

by Jim C. Hines

  People were stopping to stare, humans and fairies alike. Danielle lowered her voice, hoping Roudette would do the same. “We’re going to a fairy church. Tell me now whether you can do this.”

  Roudette glanced around. “I will do whatever is needed.”

  Danielle took that as a yes. “I’m sorry about your mother. About your home.”

  Roudette said nothing.

  The crowds grew as they neared a domed structure of green-painted stone. Two giant statues framed the entrance, where a wide stairway led down into darkness. The statue on the right sat with one hand extended in welcome. His other hand clutched a sword carved so that it appeared to be on fire. He wore a helm that shone like real gold. Spiral antlers rose from the sides of the helmet.

  The other statue was a woman seated in a similar pose. Her extended hand overflowed with coins, mostly copper and silver, which spilled into a large bowl at her feet. As Danielle watched, a family stopped at the statue and placed a bracelet into her hand, dislodging several coins into the bowl below.

  “The statues are enchanted,” Snow said softly. “Someone is watching through their eyes.”

  “My cape will shield us,” Roudette said. “It was made to avoid the eyes of the fey.” She stood like an island in a stream, with people doing their best to avoid her and her disease. Her voice was calm once more, with no hint of the pain from moments before.

  “We’re here for information,” Danielle reminded her. “To learn about Zestan. That’s all.”

  Roudette shrugged. “Get me alone in a room with the priest, and I promise he’ll tell us whatever we need to know.”

  CHAPTER 11

  TALIA TOSSED A HANDFUL OF COINS ONTO the statue’s palm as she passed.

  An acolyte in a green robe and matching sheffeyah bowed in gratitude. “May God reward your generosity.”

  “Where was God last night?” Talia muttered. The crowd pressed closer as they made their way down the staircase. If someone did recognize her, there was no way to flee through this many people. She lowered her head and shoved a path through the crowd, making sure the others stayed close.

  Faziya had dragged Talia to this church six times for morning prayers before giving up. Never had Talia seen it so packed. She wondered if the fairy entrance on the far side was equally busy.

  She followed the crowd into a familiar tunnel, remembering how Faziya had gone on and on about the symbolism. “The tunnel represents our life in this world, a time of darkness until we emerge into God’s light.”

  Not that the tunnel was truly dark. Between the sunlight outside and the oil lamps burning within, Talia could see perfectly well as she entered the temple proper.

  The first thing she noticed was the trickle of fountains. She had forgotten the sound of water spilling from the walls, pouring into the narrow stream that flowed around the inside of the church. Talia crossed a wooden bridge, peering down at the water as she passed. Glowing jaan swam in endless loops around the church. Many people pressed their way to the water’s edge, cupping their hands to drink.

  Faziya had once urged Talia to do the same, to drink of the blessings of God and the fairies. Talia had shied away in disgust, saying, “You realize you’re drinking jaan piss?” Faziya had only laughed.

  Higher up, a balcony of green stone circled the church. The upper level was reserved for the fairies and was less crowded than the main floor. Talia spotted trolls and goblins, sprites and spirits of every race. Sparks sprinkled down from a small group of pixies perched on the railing.

  Talia moved to one side to remove her sandals, looping the laces over her neck. She waited for the others to do the same.

  A round dais at the front of the church sat empty, save for thick beeswax candles mounted on either side, burning with green flames. The air was cool, almost chilly, though the stones were warm beneath her feet. She could feel the tension building as more people entered. They were afraid, and that fear could easily turn to anger. They came here seeking answers and reassurance after last night’s attack. She hated to think what would happen if they failed to receive it.

  Talia motioned Roudette toward a corner of the church where the river looped out from the wall, forming a small triangular island. “Roudette needs to wait with the sick and infirm. The water is supposed to protect the healthy from whatever diseases they might carry.”

  Roudette snorted, but crossed the water to join a handful of other worshipers too sick or demented to mingle with the rest.

  Talia pushed her way toward the front of the church, claiming a spot where one of the square pillars would guard her back. She ran her fingers over the carving in the column. It showed a sharp-eared fairy woman bringing a gift of meat and wine to a gathering of humans. “Every gift carries a price,” she whispered.

  “What’s that?” Snow asked, pointing to a painted white stripe on the wall.

  “The Path of Salvation,” said Talia. The path circled the entire church, looping higher and higher until it spiraled into the sun at the top of the dome. Paintings of various obstacles blocked the path. In one, a beautiful woman tried to lure a traveler into her home. A pile of bones behind the house showed the fate of those who gave in to lust.

  She glanced at the other obstacles. The fairy church hadn’t been as strong in her parents’ time. The rich man crushed beneath the weight of his treasures, the murderer being cast to the dragon, these were the lessons she remembered. She recognized many of the obstacles from those stories, but they were tainted by the fairies’ influence.

  A woman with blue skin guided an old man through a crowd of unbelievers. A horned troll with a body like wet sand chased away a desert wildcat to protect a pair of children on a mountainside.

  “I remember this story differently,” Talia commented. “My parents taught me the wildcat was a messenger from God, warning the children away from danger. The children ignored the warning, and the troll devoured them both.”

  A woman shoved past Danielle, moving so close her toes brushed Talia’s. “Without the fairies, Jahrasima would be nothing but a muddy pond in the sand.”

  “What of the riders who attacked last night?” demanded a man to Talia’s left. “My uncle’s cisterns were smashed. His prized hunting falcon was torn apart by those cursed hounds.”

  “God does nothing without reason,” said the woman.

  The man drew himself up. “What reason do you suggest he had for tormenting my family?”

  Talia slipped a small knife from her sleeve. Keeping the blade cupped in her palm, she made two quick cuts, freeing the woman’s purse from her belt. Talia tucked the purse into her shirt and returned the knife to its sheath.

  “Forgive the interruption.” Talia pointed toward the entrance. “I believe that beggar just made off with your purse.”

  The woman’s hand slapped her belt. “In the church, no less!” She rushed off.

  Snow clucked her tongue. “Shameless, these thieves.”

  A grinding sound drew Talia’s attention to the front of the church. The air went still, and the arguing of the crowd died. The candle flames flickered as the wall behind the dais dissolved into sand.

  Talia had seen it before, but the magic was impressive nonetheless. Falling sand changed to mist, and the mist thinned to reveal a doorway. Rain shrouded the pointed archway, framed by rainbow light.

  “Show-offs,” Snow muttered. “The rainbows are tacky, and they’re overdoing the mist.”

  Talia elbowed her into silence.

  The first to enter was a human boy in a blue wrap that left his upper body bare. He carried a polished onyx statue of a winged man. He set the statue into a small niche in the wall, then hurried to stand at one side of the dais.

  A young girl emerged next, dressed in a more modest wrap of the same blue material. She carried a statue of jade, which she set in a second niche beside the onyx statue.

  More children followed, until nine statues had been placed in their proper locations behind the dais. These were the nine
messengers of God, but not as Talia had learned about them. The fairies had replaced the mortal messengers with their own kind.

  It was a long time since Talia had believed in the lessons her father’s priest had taught her, but seeing these mockeries made her want to smash them, preferably over the head of the nearest fairy.

  The priest came forth next, head thrown back as he passed through the mist.

  “Interesting fellow,” Snow whispered.

  “Father Uf’uyan,” Talia said. “He’s a naga.”

  From the chest up, Father Uf’uyan appeared to be a normal man in his forties. He wore a short emerald robe that left his muscular arms bare. When Talia was last here, Uf’uyan’s hair had been more black than gray. The years had bleached most of the color from his chest-length braids.

  Midway down his torso, his body became that of a snake. Thick as a man’s waist, the long, serpentine tail was covered in horned brown scales that scraped across the stone as he moved.

  He twisted around to face the statues, bowing so low his nose brushed the ground. He turned toward the crowd and bowed a second time. “Greetings, my children.”

  His words were clear, easily filling the church. Faziya had once told her it was a point of pride for Uf’uyan to speak as well as any human. He raised his voice, leading them in a hymn to praise the Path of Salvation and the promise of rebirth, as passed down by the peri themselves.

  Talia mouthed the words, but refused to add her voice to the chorus. She waited impatiently while Uf’uyan led them through several formal prayers.

  Danielle’s hand touched her shoulder. “Try to relax. You look like you’re preparing to fight the entire church.”

  “Faziya came here to learn the truth about Zestan and the Hunt,” Talia whispered, fists tight. “Uf’uyan has to know where—”

  “We’ll find Zestan and your friend both,” Danielle promised.

  Talia wasn’t alone in her restlessness. All around her, people were beginning to stir and whisper.

  Father Uf’uyan drew himself up taller than any human. He chewed his lower lip as he looked about, first at the fairies in the balcony, then at the humans gathered below. “So many new faces. Perhaps this is the first blessing of last night’s events. Those who might have strayed have returned, while others have found the path for the first time.

  “I know you’re afraid. The deev are gone from our world, but their shadow remains. I’ve seen the streets of our city. I know you have lost friends and family. I’ve witnessed the destruction left in the wake of the Wild Hunt, and I grieve with you.”

  He glanced behind, looking through the doorway to the mist-blurred landscape beyond. Illusion, no doubt, meant to convey the impression of bountiful gardens and greenery.

  Danielle leaned close. “He looks nervous.”

  “He’s half snake,” Snow said. “How can you tell?”

  “He’s also half human.”

  Talia studied Uf’uyan. She would have expected a man in his position to choose his words carefully. Yet there was none of the overly polished wordcraft she had heard so often from nobles.

  “My friends. My children. I have failed you. For that, I beg your forgiveness.”

  Talia’s eyebrows rose.

  “Our kind were banished from Heaven for our pride,” he said. “For untold years, we’ve worked to earn redemption by serving mankind. By guiding you along the path toward salvation, by protecting you from sin and evil. In that quest to be a source of good, we forget that fairykind can also be a source of darkness.

  “When the first fairies fell, the peri chose the path of redemption. They fought to help mankind, hoping to earn forgiveness through their actions. Their brothers the deev chose the path of chaos. In their rage, the deev worked to destroy that which God had built. To punish mortal man, whom they resented. Those of us with fairy blood must never forget that we carry the potential for both the peri’s wisdom and the deev’s destruction.”

  Whispers spread through the church, not from the humans but from the fairies gathered above. Fairies could be hard to read, but to Talia’s eye, they didn’t appear happy.

  “We walk this path together, sharing our strength as the trials grow ever greater. The Wild Hunt is but an obstacle to be overcome, a curse descended from the pride and evil of the deev. Do not surrender to fear. Seek neither to fight nor to flee. Find your strength in prayer and in the Path of Salvation.”

  “He knows,” Talia whispered. Uf’uyan was warning his followers not to interfere, pacifying the humans for Zestan’s servants. He knew the Hunt would return and that anyone who tried to fight would be slaughtered.

  Another priest stepped through the mist. This one wore a mahogany helm carved in the shape of a jackal’s head. As he stepped down from the dais, the mist drifted forward, dispersing into the crowd. Talia could feel the cold droplets on her skin.

  Father Uf’uyan raised his arms. “May the waters of Heaven cleanse you of your sins and bring you strength. Guard yourselves from pride, and remember the word of the prophets. Cast sin first from your own heart and then from your home.”

  Talia watched closely. Father Uf’uyan started to say more, then appeared to change his mind. He lowered himself and slid aside, allowing the other priest to lead the church in closing prayers.

  Afterward, humans and fairies began to make their way from the church. Many of the humans appeared genuinely comforted by Uf’uyan’s words, and a number of families gathered at the front to thank him.

  Talia moved with them. She waited as Father Uf’uyan sang a blessing to a boy roughly the age of Prince Jakob.

  “Treasure him and raise him well,” said Uf’uyan, smiling. He stretched his tail back, lowering himself until he was barely higher than the child. He pressed a hand to the boy’s forehead. “May God protect you and help you find your way.”

  He spoke to several others before turning to Talia. “Welcome, daughter. How may I serve?”

  The traditional greeting of the church, reminding all that the fairies had come to serve humans. Yet Uf’uyan spoke the words as though he believed them.

  “My friend is sick and hoped for your blessings.” Talia beckoned for Roudette to join them. “She sought healing elsewhere, but not even the Sisters of the Hedge were able to help her. I hoped your prayers might give her body strength.”

  “Of course.” Uf’uyan brought his hands together, then turned to look more closely at Talia. She forced herself to relax. If he recognized her, they would be hard-pressed to escape. She could kill both priests if necessary, but the church was too crowded.

  Uf’uyan’s tongue flicked out briefly. “You have the smell of one burdened by darkness.”

  “You could say that.” Talia slipped her hands into her sleeves and lowered her voice. “Father, I believe I know where to find the Hunt’s true prey.”

  Uf’uyan rose higher. His tail twitched against the floor as he glanced about, as though making sure nobody else had heard. “Who are you, child?”

  Talia loosened her knives in their sheaths. “One who can help you to find her.”

  Beside her, Snow reached to her choker. Danielle moved to one side, hand resting on her sword. Talia watched Uf’uyan. The naga carried his weight differently than a human, making it difficult to judge any shifts in balance. Talia ignored his body, concentrating instead on his tail. Any sudden movements would begin there.

  Uf’uyan turned to the second priest. “Father Yasar, would you please tend to the others while I meet with this woman and her companions? Please see that we are not disturbed.”

  Yasar removed his helm, revealing a childlike face with a green pallor. He bowed to Uf’uyan before stepping down from the dais.

  Uf’uyan beckoned them to follow as he slid toward the back of the church. Fog and illusion concealed whatever truly lay beyond the doorway. For all Talia knew, Zestan herself might wait for them. She glanced at Snow, who shrugged.

  “I can’t see through it,” Snow said softly. “Not without us
ing a lot more magic than I’d like.”

  So be it. Bracing herself, Talia followed Father Uf’uyan into the mist.

  Roudette felt the glamours closing around her the instant she stepped through the doorway. On the other side, a glassy bridge stretched before her. Far beneath the bridge she could see mountains of green crystal, the fabled home of the peri. Iridescent clouds drifted above and below. Will-o’-the-wisps danced about like flaming mosquitoes. Roudette fought the urge to swat them all.

  Instead, she dug beneath the hiqab robe, pulling up the hood of her cape. As she tugged the fur-lined hood over her head, the illusions faded, and she saw instead a wide hallway with walls of square-cut stone.

  Sweat dripped down her face. Her cape was warm enough, and with the added weight of the hiqab, she felt ready to melt. She found herself panting slightly as she walked. How easy it would be to throw off this ridiculous robe and slay the naga right here. Cut his throat and silence his damned lies.

  Uf’uyan led them into a large room. Finely woven carpet, dyed deep blue and gold, covered the floor. Images of the nine prophets adorned the back wall. Caged rats scurried about in one corner. Snacks, Roudette guessed. Uf’uyan’s face might appear human, but his appetite was fey.

  A low desk sat against the opposite wall. Nooks in the stones held scrolls and small books. There were no windows, making the room feel cramped despite its size. Coals glowed in a hammered copper brazier in the center of the room, adding to the stuffy warmth. No doubt it was comfortable for a snake.

  Uf’uyan shut a heavy wooden door behind them, then made his way to a circular basket padded with blankets. He curled his body into the basket, leaning his back against the wall as he studied Talia. A wave of his hand raised flames from the brazier. “You seem familiar to me.”