A Risky Proposition (13 page)

“Hmm.  Can’t you sprinkle me with some more of that transport powder stuff and just transport me down?” I asked.

She drooped in frustration.  “That only works for transportation between realms.  And I don’t have enough to send you to your realm and bring you back here again.” 

I stared down at the rock wall dubiously.  “Well, maybe I could try to climb down.  It’s just that if I fall, I’m not exactly going to have a soft landing.”  I gestured unhappily at the jagged rocks below.

“I have healing dust that would soothe any cuts or bruises,” she offered.

“You got anything for broken bones?” I asked with a grimace.

Lorien sagged.  “Oh, you’re right Sydney.  You can’t climb this.”

“What seems to be the problem, ladies?” drawled a deep voice.

I looked down to find another winged horse blinking up at us.  His flanks were thick and heavily knotted with muscle and his coat was a handsome blend of golden tones, offset by the white feathered tips of his immense wings and his matching white mane and tail.

“Good day to you, Master Peg,” Lorien said in a polite tone as she zoomed down to hover near the pegasus.  “I’m Lorien, and this is my human charge, Sydney.”  She gave him a pleading look.  “And I’ve made a mistake and could really use your help.”

The creature made a rumbling noise that invited her to continue.

“You see,” she rushed on, “I meant to transport her to the peg station down the hill so we could buy a ride to the police station in Seelie City for an important meeting.  But it was my first attempt at inter-realm transport, and I miscalculated and sent her to the wrong spot.  So now we’re going to be late for our appointment because I can’t figure out how to get her down.”

“I see,” the peg answered with a nod.

“I would never ask if it weren’t an emergency,” she said imploringly, “but could you possibly fly her down and then get us to the police station?  I’ll pay extra for your trouble.”

He blinked up at us, a rolling thunder beginning deep in his chest, growing into a full-fledged laugh that vibrated the air around us.  Lorien and I glanced at each other uncertainly.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Mistress Lorien,” he rumbled finally.  “I’m Titus.  And I’d be glad to bring Miss Sydney down and take her wherever she needs to be.”  He unfolded his wings, their colossal span robbing me of breath as he gracefully leapt up to land beside me with one powerful thrust. 

I wondered why he had agreed when the other peg had been insulted by the very idea, but I was too grateful for his aid to question it.

“My thanks, Master Titus.”  Lorien smiled, her wings buzzing happily as they filtered emerald dust.

“Climb on, little human,” Titus boomed, giving me a horsey grin as he sank to the ground and lifted his wings so that my legs could rest beneath them.  “Pull yourself up with my mane.”

“Are you sure?” I asked uncertainly, striving to climb up without pulling too hard.  I ended up hanging onto the coarse tresses for dear life to keep from sliding back down the barrel of his side as I tried to right myself atop him.  But the tugging didn’t seem to bother him.

It was painfully obvious that I was no equestrian.  I was damp with sweat by the time I positioned myself to sit high astride his back, my hands resting on his neck.  “Thank you so much, Mr. Titus,” I said finally, heaving a sigh of relief. 

“Hold on now!” he warned.

I barely had time to tighten my fingers in his mane as he rose with dizzying speed and leapt over the edge to glide smoothly down to the ground below.  I heard a high-pitched squeal and belatedly realized it had come from my own throat.

“Piece of oatcake,” Titus said with satisfaction.  “Now, Miss Sydney, if you would kindly lift your feet for a moment so I can refold my wings.”

I slowly released my white-knuckled grip on his mane and exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as I obliged his request.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he drawled as he cantered down the hill to the mountain pass, Lorien darting along behind us.

A group of four pegs came into view.  One of them was the chestnut from before, while two of them were warmer shades of cinnamon and the fourth boasted an eye-catching mix of black and white patching.  They all looked sleek and trim, giving an impression of youth next to the mature bulk of Titus’ physique.  They whispered amongst themselves as we reached the bottom of the hill, glancing at us and letting out snickering little neighs as we approached.

The black and white bared his teeth in a sneer and flicked a disdainful glance at us.  The others scoffed in agreement.

Titus ignored them, until the chestnut said the words ‘pack mule’ a little too loudly.  Then he stopped in his tracks.  I instinctively rewrapped my fingers in the long white hairs of his mane.

The chestnut’s three companions whickered in amusement.  It was a mistake.  Titus shot forward like a massive bullet.  I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed I wouldn’t fall—even though we weren’t in the air, it was still a long way to the ground.  He stopped just short of the group and pawed in the dirt before them, his head tossing wildly.  The four pegs backed up with their eyes rolling in fear.

“Now you listen to me!” Titus roared.  “There’s pride, an’ then there’s foolishness.  And if you weanlings aren’t old enough to know the difference, then you’d better hoof it back to your mothers’ sides and learn it before coming back to work at this station.” 

He snorted.  “If they’re not too ashamed to have you.  Leaving a guest to our realm, and a
lady
, stranded in order to preen your own feathers,” he accused in disgust.  “Just because we don’t take flying jobs, it doesn’t mean we refuse to help out when someone’s in a tight spot.  If I
ever
hear that any of you have been so insufferably rude again, you’ll find yourselves on haulin’ detail in the goblin mines.  Do you understand me?” he growled. 

I had never heard a horse growl; it was a surprisingly frightening sound.

“Yes, Titus,” they gibbered in unison, their eyes still rolling, expressions humbled.

Titus stared them down for another long minute, then snorted and turned away. 

Lorien and I kept our mouths shut.

“Sorry about that,” Titus apologized after we had traveled a distance from the chastened pegs.  “Sometimes the younguns need to be put in their places.  I hope my outburst didn’t startle ya’, Miss Sydney.”

“Uh, not too much,” I lied.

“We’re just thankful that you came along,” Lorien chimed in. 

“My pleasure to serve, ladies,” he said, tipping his great head.  “Next stop, Seelie City.”  His laughter rumbled through me as he increased his pace to a rolling gallop.

I held on tighter and prayed I wouldn’t bounce right off of him.

Chapter 9 – Balthus Bound

“Ugh,” Lorien groaned, “I’ll never get used to flying into bound space.”

I shot her a questioning look.

“We just crossed the border into Seelie City.  I told you, you can’t blink in and out of here without special authorization.  Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember, but I didn’t realize you’d be able to feel it as soon as you crossed the border.”

“Of course I can feel it,” Lorien said testily.  “It’s like having your insides all bound up.”  She flicked her wings as if trying to rid them of the orange dust sprinkling from them.

A low chuckle resounded through Titus’ chest, which I felt as much as heard.  “You always know you’ve crossed the border when you’re traveling to an’ from Seelie City with faerie folk.  But the binding’s for good reason, Mistress Lorien.”

The faerie dust trailing behind her abruptly changed to a bright shade of melon.  “You’re right,” she said contritely.  “It’s a small inconvenience compared to the problems they had before it was put in place.”

“What problems?” I asked, craning my neck at a line of buildings in the distance, their mismatched heights glittering white in the sun, proclaiming the imminent arrival of the approaching city.

“Well, it makes law enforcement kind of difficult when prisoners have the ability to blink out of custody.  Most officers have the ability to bind a prisoner’s powers with spells.  But those individual bindings take constant monitoring and some of the more powerful prisoners were able to escape by waiting for the bindings to weaken during shift changes or other distractions.  It was a real problem.  So the Seelie Court petitioned the mages of the faerie realm to help them come up with a solution.”

Titus made a disgruntled sound, and Lorien paused in her dissertation to glance at him.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothin’.  Just don’t trust mages overmuch is all,” he rumbled.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Well, don’t get me wrong, a lot of them have put their cleverness to good work.  But they don’t just use spells, mages; they invent ‘em.  That kind of power can easily fall into corruption.”  He tossed his head. 

“But you don’t need to hear the prejudices of an old peg like me.  Please continue, Mistress Lorien.”

“Uh, thank you,” Lorien said politely.  She cleared her throat with a small, delicate noise.  “So it was Lauringer, a relatively unknown mage at the time, who suggested binding the entire city.  The highest members of the mage council ridiculed her idea, insisting that such a spell would be too massive and that it would never take permanent hold, if it could even be performed.”

“Why didn’t they just bind the prison?” I interrupted, my eyes still canvassing the looming city. 

The buildings all seemed to be made of the same rough white stone, rife with sparkling quartz, and peppered with deep green curtains of climbing ivy.  When the sunlight reflected off of them, the effect was magical.  Ahead, the median of the main thoroughfare was populated by gnarled, ancient-looking trees.  Their branches reached out to shade both sides of the street beneath a thick, leafy canopy.   

Lorien grunted at my question.  “They tried binding the prison, but it wasn’t any more effective than the individual bindings.  It seems that magical prisoners have an uncanny ability to figure out how to escape buildings.  And once out, they would blink away before the guards could recapture them.”

“Oh.”  

“Anyway,” Lorien continued, “Lauringer ignored the high mages and requested a meeting with the Seelie Court, asking them to give her a chance.  That in itself took great courage, because a failure would not only discredit her in the eyes of the mage community, but it would leave a less than stellar impression upon the governing body of the Realm.

“As soon as The Court agreed, she went straight to the center of Seelie City to begin weaving her spell.  She gradually moved outward in widening spirals, until the last circle encompassed the outskirts of the city.  A huge crowd gathered to watch her progress, probably the whole of the city’s population and then some.  It took her a day and a half, and when she finished and spoke the final words of binding, it was as if the entire city held its breath to see what would happen.”  Lorien paused for effect.

“So what happened?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she answered with a small chuckle.

“What do you mean, nothing?”  I snorted in disbelief, my gaze drawn to a handsome black peg as he trotted past.

“I mean, nothing happened.  No big bang, no flash of light, nothing.  The throng that had watched her in near silence for a day and a half suddenly discovered its voice.  Some of them were embarrassed for her, and some of them found satisfaction in her failure.  Lauringer just stood there, mute and exhausted.  The crowd began to disperse, returning to their daily lives, already beginning to dismiss the name of a little known mage called Lauringer—until a single sprite attempted to blink out.”

“And?” I prodded after a moment.

Lorien grinned widely.  “At that moment, a tremendous shockwave of power swept across the city, rattling the windows of every building and leaving a burning afterimage of magelight upon the eyes of everyone who saw it.  Lauringer collapsed to the ground, and the sprite who had tried to blink was nearly stunned out of the air.  Lauringer had done it, although it took her almost a month to recover from the expenditure of power. 

“From that point on, no one disputed that she must be the most powerful mage alive.  She could easily have become the head of the mage council, but their ridicule had left a bad taste in her mouth.  She helps the community when called upon, but other than that, she mostly keeps to herself.”

“Wow,” I commented faintly.  I realized that I sounded preoccupied, but I was fascinated by Seelie City.  My eyes were attempting to soak everything up faster than my brain could process it. 

We had reached the city proper and I was trying to figure out why there seemed to be a profusion of alarmingly massive anthills between each of the white stone buildings.  Not to mention that the streets were scattered with other pegs—with and without riders such as myself.  And a colorful haze filled the air, which I quickly realized must be faerie dust residue from the multitude of faeries flitting about.  Other than that, it seemed a pleasantly clean and orderly city, albeit with more trees and foliage than any human city I’d ever seen.

“You have quite a knack for story-telling, Mistress Lorien,” Titus complimented in his rumbling bass.  “Do you have any other questions about our fine city, Mistress Sydney?” he asked me over his shoulder.