He spun to glare at Saeldian’s pleased, infuriating smile. A tuft of clean, unspun wool peeked out of one of their clever leaf pockets.
It hadn’t been real.
Saeldian had woven one of their illusions. The water under the bridge, the finely paved road, and the forest to limit the range he could see—it felt so real. It even smelled right, and it had been a trick.
Saeldian made a face. “Don’t look at me like that.”
He knew better than to trust Saeldian about anything. Anything, even the color of the sky. And he fell for it again. Nothing was real around Saeldian. Nothing was certain, and they would drop the perfect dream world and walk away like it never happened at all. “Do you tell the truth about anything?”
“Fuck you, Kell Redsong. It worked.”
“I didn’t sign up for having hallucinations forced on me unknowingly.”
They blinked, disbelieving. “How was it supposed to work if you knew it was fake?”
Saeldian had a point, and he hated it. “Well, pardon me for feeling manipulated.”
“That was the point, you absolute mudboot. You needed manipulating. We made it, and the only person who cares how it got done is you.”
“I didn’t ask for your help!”
“Because you’d never ask for my help. I know. Believe me, I know.” They turned their back. Kell opened his mouth to complain, but they tilted their head to regard the sky and shouted, “Hi!”
Saeldian waved at the sky, where a troop of brightly winged pixies played in the air. They dove straight for them, halting just before they would have collided.
Saeldian held out their hand. Five tiny strawberries rested on it. “Is this the road to Eightbridge?”
“You were lost in the wildlands, elf,” one of the pixies said.
“Indeed, I was.” Saeldian remained genial. “It’s where I found these berries. Which will be your berries. If you trade. Is this the road to Eightbridge?”
Another pixie laughed. “If you’d walked twenty more steps you’d have seen it yourself.”
Five tiny hands shot out. The strawberries disappeared. Saeldian did not thank them. They turned toward where the horns and bells sounded and started marching, like Kell didn’t exist. Jubilee dashed to catch up.
Beside him, Lorzok shrugged. “They did help you, Kell.”
“I don’t nee—”
He slammed his mouth shut before he could speak a lie where the pixies could hear him. They all turned toward him, suddenly very interested.
“I don’t like their help,” he said.
“You may be sour about it, but they did what I couldn’t.”
Saeldian and Jubilee ambled along, in no hurry to outpace them. Only Jubilee looked back.
“No, you couldn’t have done it. Saeldian does one thing better than anyone else I ever met,” Kell said, as Jubilee and his former partner hooked arms and pranced, giggling.
“Illusions?”
“Lies.”
Chapter Eleven
Nevermore the Trumpet’s Call
In Which Our Adventurers Cross the Correct Bridge
