Page 32 of Be the Serpent

“My mother was one of those women,” said Simon, voice gone stiff.

“Yeah, and your father and your other mother were weird for keeping her around after she finished feeding your sister,” said the Luidaeg. “I’m not saying they were wrong, or that they shouldn’t have done that. I liked your mom. I only met her a few times—we were already well on our way to withdrawing from the daily business of Faerie by that point—but she was sweet, and kind, and she deserved the life she got to have. Fact remains that she was hired to do a job. If the Torquills had decided, when it was done, that they no longer wanted a human around the place, they would have been justified in putting Celaeno out, and doing whatever they felt necessary to keep her away and keep our world concealed.”

“So how the fuck did we run into one of these ‘Llangefni screens’?” I asked. “It was just me, Quentin, and Stacy when this started, and none of us knows how to cast an illusion that powerful. Much less one that’s contagious, since Simon’s got it now too.”

“I don’t know,” said the Luidaeg. “I can think of a few ways, but most of them would only really apply in Europe. As to why your father and your squire have been affected, I’m sure you can think of a reason if you really work at it.”

Meaning it was the fact that they had close human heritage, even if it had been removed. But half of Faerie has human heritage these days. Anyone with a surname, really. And that’s most of us.

“We are not in Europe right now,” said Simon.

“I noticed.” The Luidaeg’s voice was dry, but not wholly unsympathetic.

Arden reappeared, clutching a small wicker basket. The Luidaeg stuck her hand out imperiously, and Arden passed it over for inspection.

“What took you so long?”

“Sorry, but Walther didn’t set his alchemy lab up with the expectation of having it raided,” said Arden. “I don’t exactly spend a lot of time there, and I didn’t know where anything was.”

“Huh.” The Luidaeg put the basket on the ground, after taking out a small glass bottle, and took a step back. “Well, this should do, and if it doesn’t, I can officially say that this isn’t my problem. I’m only doing this because Karen needs her mother, and we can’t let you people inside the knowe while you’re under a Llangefni screen.”

“A what?” asked Arden.

“Tell you later,” said the Luidaeg. “Stay where you are.” She hauled back and threw the bottle at the basket of eggs as hard as she could. Something magical must have happened, because from my perspective, with all view of magic currently blocked off by an inexplicable illusion screen, the bottle slammed into the eggs and vanished rather than breaking any of their shells. In the aftermath of this impossible event, the eggs turned a pale purple, like they were being prepared for a very pastel Easter egg hunt.

The Luidaeg retrieved the basket and picked up an egg, balancing it thoughtfully in her hand. “The humans have a lot of stories about how you get rid of changelings,” she said. “But what most of them really meant is ‘how to stop seeing the changelings that are already in your home, because your wife went stepping out with an elf knight down in the roses last spring.’ And if we reverse those techniques, we can break down a Llangefni screen.”

I blinked. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning you four need to hold still—sorry, Stacy, but even if you don’t seem to be affected, we can’t risk you carrying an infectious illusion into a space that the mortal world doesn’t actually believe exists.”

“Could this thing destabilize the knowe?”

“Probably not. Knowes can’t catch a screen, anyway. But since someone under a Llangefni screen isn’t supposed to see a knowe, much less enter one, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let someone go inside where they might remind the parts of the shallowing that technically coexist with solid material in the human world that they aren’t supposed to be there. Faerie survives conflicting with ordinary physics by staying under the radar and not attracting more attention than absolutely necessary.”

“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure I entirely followed her, but it also didn’t matter, because me not understanding what was going on wasn’t going to change the situation.

“Good,” said the Luidaeg, and threw an egg at my head.

I flinched, but not fast enough to stop it from smacking me in the forehead and breaking there, sending egg goo and bits of shell running down my face and into my eyes. I reached up to wipe it away, and my fingers found nothing to remove, sliding over clean, dry skin. Instead, there was a sensation like cobwebs being brushed away, and when I blinked—several times—my vision was clear. The Luidaeg still looked exactly the same. Arden and Lowri, on the other hand, looked like themselves, which was an astonishing and welcome change.

“You should probably wash your face,” said the Luidaeg, throwing an egg at Quentin. “Foxglove isn’t a great thing to leave in your eyes long-term.”

“Right,” I said. One more thing to test: I snapped my fingers, and felt my magic respond, dissolving as it finally realized I was asking it to do something. Quentin’s face returned to normal. Simon, who was also properly pointy-eared and inhuman, didn’t, since he’d never been under an illusion in the first place. “Okay, that was unsettling and stupid.”

“Yup,” said the Luidaeg, continuing to throw eggs. “I’ll probably be really freaked out in a little while, once there’s time to sit down and think about the implications. No one’s needed to cast a Llangefni in years. Maybe centuries at this point. I don’t know of anyone who still can.”

“Right.” Simon and Quentin were looking around them with refocused eyes, clearly seeing the same things I had. I turned to Stacy, offering her my hand.

She took it hesitantly. Like the rest of us, there was no outward sign that she’d just been hit in the face with an egg. Magic is weird sometimes.

“Let’s go see Mitch and the kids,” I said.

She smiled, hesitantly, and came willingly enough as I led her through the open door into the knowe. One nice thing about Faerie’s general dislike for thanking people: no one thought it was rude when I walked away from a monarch and one of the Firstborn without thanking them for helping me. Or if they did, they didn’t say anything about it.

Simon and Quentin followed us without protest, stepping into the cool, dark, impossible hall. The transition was even easier than usual, maybe because I was still dosed in the Luidaeg’s latest solution to ridiculous fae magic.

“Does the sea witch do you a lot of unasked-for favors these days?” asked Stacy.