The moment the familiar trill reached his ears, Shrike relaxed his alert stance. “Hail.”
For the ambassador, as promised, had returned to Blackthorn Briar.
“I’ve brought a companion alongside me,” the ambassador continued. His form grew more distinct as he approached; Shrike could see his twirling hands.
“Your brother?” Shrike guessed—for so the ambassador had hoped. Though Shrike had supposed the two brothers would prove more alike in form, not all fae bore great resemblance to their siblings.
“Nay,” a far deeper voice rumbled. But familiar nonetheless.
Shrike took another step forward. “Drude?”
By now the traveling companions were well within sight, and Shrike could behold for himself that their acquaintance from Mabon had arrived in all his crimson glory.
Nell shot Shrike an enquiring glance. When he granted her a nod that bespoke of no danger, she slung her bow back over her shoulder. “Well met, fellows. I’ll be in the warren watch-tower if you need me.”
And with that, she vanished off into the very shadows the ambassador and Drude had emerged from.
“I do hope we’re not interrupting anything,” said the ambassador. “How fares the Holly King?”
“Better than you left him.” Shrike winced. His words sounded far more accusatory than he’d intended. “Glad to have you returned, I’m sure. And,” he added, turning to Drude, “we are glad to meet again. What brings you here? Did you find each other in Fathomseek?”
“We met on the path,” Drude offered up by way of explanation. “Word of the Holly King’s peril has spread throughout the realms of hidden folk. Forgive me, I don’t mean to impose, but—if there’s anything I may do? Labour? Provisions?”
At first Shrike knew not how the incubus might assist their cause, but the latter suggestion struck him. “Butter.”
Drude blinked. “Butter?”
“The chirurgeon said it’d be the best thing for him,” Shrike explained. “Mild enough to digest and fatty enough to keep him from wasting away. We haven’t any here—the goats give good milk, but it doesn’t churn up the way cow’s will—and I daren’t go bartering at the Moon Market just now, when…” He trailed off, unable to give voice to his worst fear. If something were to happen to Wren whilst he was away, he’d follow him into the grave.
Drude seemed to understand him nonetheless. “We’ve an abundance of it. If I may rest the night here, I’ll set out at dawn and return by dusk.”
“Thank you,” Shrike said, though the words hardly felt sufficient.
“And I,” said the ambassador, “have brought a little something, though not quite all I promised, for which I do apologise. My brother cannot leave Fathomseek at present. Buthe has sent me along with several potions—” Here he gestured to his clinking satchel. “Based on my description of the Holly King’s plight, for the chirurgeon to dispense at their discretion—and,” he added, “written receipts of all ingredients, for the chirurgeon’s review.”
“Thank you,” Shrike said again, feeling just as inadequate as before. He hesitated. “I’m afraid we can only offer you the meanest quarters in return. Nell is camped in the warren watch-tower. It’s filled with thatch, but little else.”
The ambassador waved him off with a twirling wrist. “Think nothing of it. We’ll make do.”
And, to Shrike’s surprise, Drude seemed to agree with him.
“Is the Holly King well enough for company?” the ambassador enquired. “I should like to offer my wishes for his swift recovery. And I believe my travelling companion feels much the same.”
Drude appeared much abashed. “Not to presume that he should remember me, but…”
“You’re remembered fondly,” Shrike assured him—for he was, by Wren and by Shrike as well. “He’ll be very happy to see you both.”
~
Wren, stuck abed in his convalescence, could do little else save wait—however patiently or impatiently—for his Shrike’s return.
When he did at last emerge through the cottage door again but a few minutes later by Wren’s reckoning, he did so alone. Evidently Nell had gone on her own way back to her camp in the old warren watch-tower. The sight of Shrike’s smile proved a balm for Wren’s anxious heart.
“The ambassador has returned,” Shrike announced with the air of one who’d expected it.
Wren, who’d had no idea the ambassador had come and gone in the first place, much less announced any intention to come back, felt more than a little bewildered. He had a dim recollection of seeing the ambassador on the lake-shore—so dim he’d assumed he’d imagined it.
“Drude is here as well,” Shrike added, furthering Wren’s astonishment. “They’d both like to see you, if you’re feeling up to it.”
