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I stopped and thought about it for a minute. The answer was no, not really. I’d never seen a member of the light fey before, but I’d known without question that that’s what they were. The bone structure, the way they moved—a hundred different things had given it away. They hadn’t just looked different; they’d looked alien, like the kind of villains Lucas would have put in that movie if he’d really wanted to scare the crap out of everyone.
“Interbreeding,” Pritkin said, before I could ask. “The other major houses have bred with humans through the years, and therefore look more like us. The Svarestri haven’t. I knew what they were as soon as I saw them.”
“And stole their stick.”
“Staff,” Pritkin corrected. “And I didn’t steal it. I retrieved it.”
“Retrieved it? Then it’s yours?”
He shook his head, pawing around in the basket for something. And finally coming up with a small pot of what looked like mustard that he proceeded to dunk the fish heads in. And to grin at me when I shuddered.
“No, a contact of mine among the fey asked me to be on the lookout for it, said it had been stolen. He didn’t sound like he thought it likely to come to earth, but was taking all possible precautions. He was . . . more upset than I’ve ever seen him. He claimed a war might break out if it wasn’t returned.”
“A war? Over a wizard’s staff?”
Pritkin swallowed fish. “Not a wizard’s—a king’s. The Staff of the Winds is the Sky King’s own weapon, which is why it caused such an uproar when it went missing.”
“The . . . Sky King?”
“Leader of the Blarestri. You probably know them as the Blue Fey. Or possibly not; they don’t come to earth that often, either. But more so than the Svarestri, who never come at all. Well, until now.”
“With a stolen staff.”
He nodded. “And that’s what’s odd.”
“That they came to earth or that they stole the staff?”
“Both. Either.” He flipped the hand that wasn’t holding the fish bowl. “The Svarestri have reason to want to put the Sky Lords’ noses out of joint; they’ve been enemies for years. But it is interesting that
they would risk so much for so little gain.”
“Little? That thing seemed pretty powerful to me!”
“It is—in the king’s hand. It’s said he can raise a storm large enough to wipe out a whole army with it. But that’s him. He’s the most powerful of the Blue Fey, possibly the most powerful being in all faerie, and his element is air. The staff in the hand of someone else . . .” Pritkin shrugged. “Useful, yes. Worth risking a war for? No.”
I frowned, and slathered butter on bread with a spoon because we were out of knives. “So a group of people who never come to earth were taking a staff they aren’t supposed to have and can’t use, to the court of a guy who doesn’t want anything to do with them?”
Pritkin nodded.
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
He nodded again, because he had his mouth full.
“What did you do with it anyway?” I asked, because he obviously didn’t have it on him.
He stared up at the canopy of trees, where little sparks were flying around from the bonfire below, like fireflies. “Do?”
“Yes, where did you put it?”
“Put what?”
“The staff.”
“Oh, that. The elders have it.”
It was nonchalant.
“You just gave it to them?” I didn’t bother to keep the skepticism out of my voice.
