Page 6 of Night and Silence

The scent of running water and redwood bark filled the air. From behind me, I smelled the frayed edges of Quentin and Danny’s illusions as they released them, briefly overwhelming the natural scent of the wood with their unique magical signatures. Magic is a function of the blood, and everyone’s magic is different, saying something about the caster and their specific heritage. Dóchas Sidhe are walking encyclopedias of magical scents. I can identify a magical trace even if I’ve only encountered it once before, and I can narrow it down from “roses” to “this specific kind of rose, over here, grown in this specific sort of soil.” It’s a mostly useless talent that has occasionally proven to be incredibly useful.

I released my own illusions, surrounding myself with the smell of freshly cut grass and coppery blood. It used to be more copper than blood. I used to be more human than I am now. Finding equilibrium has never been exactly easy for me.

Several more pixies returned, a rainbow escort lighting our way. The pixies in my hair chimed softly as we topped the last rise, and the ancient redwood housing the door to Arden’s knowe appeared. Knowes—better known as hollow hills—are points of connection between the human world and the Summerlands, the shallowest and last accessible realm of Faerie. They have doors in both worlds, although they’re usually constructed entirely in the Summerlands, where real estate is at less of a premium. Seen from the fae side, Arden’s knowe was a dizzying concoction of towers and spires, connected by stairways and paths that wound through the air with distressingly little consideration for gravity. Seen from where we were standing, it was just an inexplicable double door set into a tree that had no business being abused that way. Guards stood to either side, dressed in the livery of the Mists, with Arden’s arms stitched above their hearts.

One of the guards grinned at the sight of us, a female Glastig whose armor had been cut to account for the fact that she had goat’s legs from the thigh down, like someone had gotten bored in the process of sketching a Satyr. She had no tail, but she made up for it with a pair of goat’s ears that stuck almost straight out from the sides of her head, covered in silky, strawberry-blonde fur that matched the fur on her legs.

“Toby! And Danny and Quentin as well,” she said. “May I assume from the fact that you’re toting someone’s trash bin that your mission was a success?”

“Hi, Lowri, and yes, you can assume,” I said. “Since we’re assuming things, may I please assume there’s some sort of cage ready for us to put these things in? We have some pretty pissed-off piggies.”

“They’re not pigs,” said Lowri.

I could almost hear Quentin’s eyeroll. “They have tusks and hooves and they know how to use them,” he said. “That’s piggy enough for me.”

“Oberon would be ashamed of you, having so little concern for the proper names of things,” Lowri chided. Then she winked to make it clear that she was kidding. “Her Highness directed some of the household staff to prepare the stables in hopes of a successful return. When last I spoke with her, she said the task was finished and the stables were secure. I’ll take you there.”

“We have stables?” I asked.

“Wonders never cease, do they?” Lowri nodded to the other guard. He nodded back but stayed in position as Lowri led us into the knowe. Our pixie escort accompanied us, ringing gleefully.

The world spun lazily around me as we transitioned from the mortal world to the Summerlands. The ease of the transition was another sign of how much less human I am now than I used to be. There’s a certain pushback against mortals crossing that kind of border. When I was more human, entering a knowe could knock me to my knees and leave me vomiting on the floor. These days, it’s something I can overlook if I’m distracted enough, or in enough of a hurry.

“So how did it go?” asked Lowri. Her hooves clattered on the floor of the entry hall, echoing softly up into the chambered ceiling.

“Not too bad,” I replied, trying to steal glances at the redwood carvings lining the walls. They change sometimes, adding major events and personages from the Kingdom. It can be embarrassing to see myself represented there, but it isn’t embarrassing enough to keep me from scanning for recent developments.

Nothing seemed to have changed since our last visit. That was a good thing. It meant the Kingdom was relatively peaceful for a change. I could use a little peace. Especially while I was trying to help Tybalt with his current problems, I could use a lot of peace.

Assuming he was ever going to start letting me help him. Assuming he ever spoke to me again. I finally understood how my friends felt when I refused to reach out, and I didn’t like it.

“You seem to have stolen someone’s trash can.”

“We can put it back,” protested Danny. One of the arkan sonney hit the side of the can hard enough to make another dent. He amended, “Or not.”

“Or not,” agreed Lowri. She led us through an unmarked door, bypassing the throne room in favor of a long, mostly empty hallway. Smaller carvings lined these walls, showing scenes that were less heroic but equally necessary to the functionality of the Kingdom in general and the knowe in specific. Many of the people they portrayed were friends of mine, from Arden’s seneschal, Madden, to her recently-hired chatelaine, Cassandra Brown.

Cassandra is the eldest daughter of my childhood friend, Stacy, and my adopted niece. I’ll admit, I never expected her to wind up employed by a royal knowe, but she seemed to be doing well for herself, and Arden adored her. There are worse places to stand in our world than at the left hand of the Queen. I should know, having stood in many of them.

The hall wound around the edge of the knowe in a gentle spiral before ending at a narrow stairway. Lowri started down. We followed. Geography doesn’t translate exactly between the Summerlands and the mortal world, but the longer the two areas are tied together, the more closely the bones are likely to conform: we were clearly following the slope of the hill into the valley. For all that Arden’s palace doesn’t exist in the human version of Muir Woods, and for all that the Faerie side of things has a lot more of the truly giant trees still standing, the basics are there on both sides.

Speaking of which . . .

“Where’s Arden?” I asked.

Lowri’s ear twitched in a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Her Majesty is occupied with the business of the realm. You didn’t precisely call ahead to let us know you were coming.”

“She’s the one who sent us monster hunting,” I protested.

“Regardless, she can’t sit around waiting to hear whether you’ve succeeded.”

“And she has queen shit to do, right.”

Quentin audibly groaned. “As Sir Daye’s squire, I must apologize, again, for her having the manners of a kelpie.”

“Don’t be silly, Quentin,” said Danny. “Kelpies are politer.”

“Kelpies are aquatic murder horses that want to rip you apart and eat everything but your liver,” I protested.