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“What year was it when you left?”
“2012. You? And where did you come through?”
“1867. Time flies, don’t it? And somewhere in the English Channel. I tell you, dearie, I was ever so happy to wake up here instead of in my maker’s arms. Got tossed overboard.” She winked. “Never tell a drunk ship’s mate that you’re carrying his child. Doesn’t go over well.”
I remembered the boy out by the horse troughs and the thought electrified me. Surely he couldn’t be the same kid.
“What happened to the child?”
“Oh he’s hereabouts. Billy!”
The red-headed lad came racing into the room, covered in mud and carrying some kind of froglike creature—with eight legs. “What, Ma? Look what I found!”
But Nancy had her eyes on me, nodding as I assimilated the shock. “I should say time flies in some places. Not in others.”
“You weren’t surprised by my time.”
“Nah. I heard tell of you and took a guess. Go on then, lad. Take that critter outside again. Last immigrant I met was 1927 and that was a while back, so I figured the next would be a jump. Tell me—do you all have ships that fly to the stars?”
“Who wants to go there?” Starling demanded, then hiccupped. The soldiers must have finished their meal, because they once again broke into a drinking song.
“It’s not important,” I told her, raising an eyebrow when she gulped more beer to stop the hiccups. She grinned, foam on her lips. “We do,” I answered Nancy, “but mainly to the moon and Mars.”
“So, this isn’t Mars then?” Nancy asked this so earnestly, with such urgency that I managed not to laugh out loud.
Starling listened with a puzzled frown. I could just imagine the images she might be getting.
“No. You thought maybe Faerie was on another planet?”
She made a face, sad now. “I remember hearing tell of such things. This place—I don’t think it’s connected to home, you know?”
“I do know.”
“I thought maybe as the people come through who are smarter. You know, with more technology, you all might have more answers. That’s why I arranged for you all to stop here—so I could ask.”
“I suspect that the old stories your granny told were closer to the truth.”
Nancy cast a jaundiced eye toward the Brownies and dragonfly girls, who’d now pushed the tables back so they could conduct an intricate, weaving dance while several Brownies played fiddle and pipe. “The Little People are real. Who’d have believed it?”
One of the soldiers Starling had been flirting with showed up at the table and, giggling, she accepted his offer of a dance and stumbled off to join in. Darling, however, stayed, to all appearances listening intently to our conversation.
“How did you do that—arrange for us to stop here?”
She winked at me with broad good humor. “I may not have been graced with a gift like yours when I landed here, but I have my ways. A gal learns to make careful bargains, yes? A little magic to make life easier. A little help to make a normal life for my boy.”
“So—he’s all human? Came over with you in the womb? And he’s your firstborn?”
“Aye. Why should you ask such things?” But she didn’t look puzzled. Instead she leaned forward, intrigued.
“Have any of the fae…courted you?”
She laughed, a hearty, booming sound. “No, dearie. They take a look at me and turn up their elegant noses.” She patted her rounded belly. “None of them have wanted to plant another bairn in me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“It is, yes.”
Nodding sagely, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “I steer clear of politics and keep to myself and my inn—but I hear tell you’re Lord Rogue’s consort these days. I do hope you’re watching yourself with that one.”
I glanced at Darling, who blinked at me, smug, unhelpful.
