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And settled in to wait.
Chapter 23
In Which I Go to theBall
‡
Titania appears to be less a goddess or queen than a very powerful sorceress, with a far-reaching mental hold on just about everyone in Faerie. Other thanthat…
~Big Book of Fairyland, “Flora andFauna”
Itried toenjoy the respite from traveling, the sunshine in our little canyon alcove. But it was exceedingly difficult to relax when people were off risking their lives for your project. This wasn’t something I’d encountered in my old life, really ever. The most I could have hoped for then was that someone would rescue me from a stultifying conversation at a department party. That had been heroic enough, given that they often risked being trapped themselves. I felt like a different person now. Older. Hopefully wiser.
Certainly more tired.
After we ate, I settled in to meditate on my reserves. I could wish that I had a better sense of my fuel reserve, but I just didn’t yet. I’d only ever run it completely down once. I’d hated it enough not to let it happen again.
Rogue’s comment that he had resources outside himself niggled at me. Why hadthathad to be a future lesson? If ever I needed resources outside myself, now would be an ideal time to discover them. I wondered again about the Black Dog. Was he a source of power for Rogue, along with the curse of his existence? Did Titania hold that aspect in thrall, also? If indeed that was what was going on. It seemed that, from what he’d told me, that elemental aspect of himself couldn’t be contained or controlled, by anyone at all. Except that it listened to me.
Something to exploit, perhaps.
What I didn’t get was, that first time, my natural energy had come back fairly quickly and in full measure. Why did I feel as if something were constantly draining me?
I eyed the staff, now safely in Larch’s keeping. That thing could very well be it. Yet it was my most valuable tool for the time being. What else did I have? The vial of dragon’s blood. I’d given the egg back to Larch. After seeing how tenderly the dragon had treated it, I felt wrong thinking of it as an anti-magic hand grenade.
If I thought to exploit the Black Dog, then I should consider my own elemental beastie. The itching throb in my temple had subsided, and her ghostly presence in my heart had quieted. Very likely because I’d been using so little magic. A heartening thought for me—I could retire somewhere quiet, use no magic and perhaps escape the fate in store for me that way.
It seemed impossible to contemplate, a life without magic. Ironic, since I’d lived most of my life without it. But I’d had work. Perhaps I could study magic, tucked away in some tower, and grow learned and eccentric.
The image held a certain appeal.
At any rate, waking my inner big cat seemed prudent, so I began making tiny, very low-energy wishes, like running water through the pipes, priming the pump. I changed bits of gravel into popcorn, just for the whimsy. Larch’s tunic went from red to polka-dotted—and back again when he scowled at me. I nursed my anger, which she seemed to feed on best, using it to heat the magic. I imagined throttling Titania’s flower-stem of a throat, and the cat purred in agreement.
As the afternoon waxed on, several conveyances passed overhead. A couple of dragons went by and then some sort of fancy flying coach. Where could a sorceress get one of those? Then the ever-alert Larch moved us farther off the trail, hiding us just in time for a laughing party of noble fae to ride past without seeing us.
“Big party at Bitch Palace?” I wondered out loud.
“It is All Hallows’ Eve,” Larch observed. “Titania often performs rituals when the Veil is thin.”
“It’s Halloween?” I wanted to smack him. “And you didn’t think that was important to mention before now?”
“My lady sorceress has heard the Wild Hunt growing louder each night. As you are not a fool, I presumed you knew such a simple thing.”
“What kind of rituals?”
He shifted. Looked away. “Horrible ones,” he whispered. And refused to say more.
I waited with increasing impatience, which at least served to fuel the cat, who paced to match my internal restlessness. The sun began to set, and the howling neigh of horses echoed on the wind.
At last, a glowing light came down the narrow path, which so many had gone up. Carrying a little lantern, Athena bounced along, curls blowing in the wind, skipping without a care in the world.
I grabbed her in my excitement and relief. “Thank goodness! What happened? Where are Starling and Hercules? Tell me everything!”
“Geez, Gwynn, I will if you’ll stop talking long enough.”
“Sorry.”
“Understandable. So, it turns out that it’s All Hallows’ Eve, which is a stroke of great good luck.”
