All's Fair (Fair Folk Chronicles Book 4) (12 page)

Chapter 23: What We Are

The Gray Lady led Megan back to An Teach Deiridh, avoiding General Inwar's patrols. Megan helped support Sorcha while the Gray Lady walked ahead of them, her will o' wisp dimmed down to provide only the faintest illumination. As they neared An Teach Deiridh, Megan could hear the sounds of the castle under siege: marching boots, hoofbeats from the massive Fomoire warbeasts, and the whips of the handlers.

Finally, the wisp floated back to Megan, speaking for the Lady again. "Your ear-plugs and the counter-song, but quiet."

Megan nodded. Back in the caves, when she'd announced her intentions to go to the castle, the Gray Lady had told her to bring the ear plugs, just in case. She put the earplugs in, making sure Sorcha did the same, and started her song. The Gray Lady's mouth didn't open in her song this time, and Megan couldn't make out the noise, but the woman appeared to be humming.

As she did, the ground fog typical of Faerie Winters rose ever so subtly, creeping upwards ahead of them. Through the fog, the Gray Lady gestured for Megan to follow, along with indication it was safe to cease her song.

The fog hid their passage as they crept around, avoiding the outskirts of any forces, towards one side of the castle. Every time she caught a hint of movement, Megan was sure they were going to be caught, but no one stopped them. Whatever Fomoire forces the Gray Lady considered herself incapable of avoiding were clearly not around. Megan supposed they may well have been lying withered in dust beside the lake at Gorias.

She brought her attention back to the current dangerous stealth attempt. The Gray Lady led her to a brush-covered rock formation. The bane sidhe held up some of the brambles while Megan helped Sorcha under them. The rocks opened into a hidden tunnel, narrowly low to walk into.

“Where are we?” Megan whispered as they walked, conveniently ducking a little under Sorcha's weight.

“Underneath,” replied the wisp. “Soon, we will be within the Unseelie wing.”

And soon, indeed, the path scaled upward, until bedrock gave way to branching walls. Sitting at this bizarre crossroads was one of the hags on the palace staff.

It was hard for Megan to identify the process of eyes widening on a scaly green face that already had saucer-sized eyes, but she thought the hag's did so at the sight of Sorcha. Or perhaps it was at Megan's sudden return, or the Lady's—Megan couldn't tell. In any case, the hag nodded silently and stepped aside, letting the Gray Lady press her hand to a particular wall, which turned out to correspond to one of Riocard's bookshelves.

Megan carefully stepped out into the chaos of her father's room, with his old collections of bits of everything, especially bits and pieces of tragedy and war. As always, her eye was drawn to the painting, seeing Brigid looking back at her, a lone spot of serenity and calm amidst everything.

"Huh, I guess this must have been useful for secret meetings," Megan said, finally.

"Sometimes, there was a great deal of work involved with things happening effortlessly," the wisp said, as the Gray Lady reached to take her daughter's arms like someone being passed an infant. "You're certain you do not wish to rally any troops now, to assist with the fight for the pathways?"

Megan shook her head. "Things are going to be difficult enough here. I need to make sure that I have some allies when I get back, and just as importantly, need to be sure the Ballroom will still be standing."

"If you get back." The bane sidhe turned to look her in the eye. "You have a difficult fight ahead, and I cannot lead the struggle here for you. Only influence things in your favor."

"I'll be back. I trust that Cassia has held up her end of things. We'll need all the influence we can get here, though, thank you."

The Gray Lady nodded, reaching for a small red book on the shelf. She made sure Megan noted which one before she shifted it to open the shelf-wall again. The Lady and her daughter then departed, followed by the wisp. A few seconds later, the bookshelf slid shut behind them.

Megan looked around the room, packing a couple of her father's journals into her backpack, making room by getting rid of a few of her remaining cold weather supplies. She considered a jeweled dagger as well, setting it atop one of the room's many piles. Then she headed for the armor case.

She heard the voice before she touched the armor: a cold baritone meant for echoing across battlefields. It was activating the passkeys to her father's locks. The door opened. General Inwar stood just outside with two of his guardsmen. "Forgive the impropriety, but I didn't think knocking would work."

Megan hesitated in answering, finally straightening up and looking directly at him. "Granted. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you knew I was here."

"Not quite. You have been...even more difficult to keep track of than usual, Highness. I simply knew a passage had been opened outside of its watch schedule. Such things must be investigated in times like these. But I'm glad you stopped by. We've been worried about you—and about all of the troops who suddenly took their leave of the defenses here. It's time we talked. May I?"

"It depends. Do you always bring troops along for talks these days?"

Inwar smiled, gesturing for his soldiers to move on. "Better?"

“Fine,” she said. Megan had no illusions about being able to stop him from keeping her in the castle, if that's what he wanted, but also wasn't about to let him intimidate her. "You may enter, and we can talk."

Inwar stepped into the room, looking around. "I never quite understood your father's particular style, but could respect his priorities," he glanced around at the bookshelves, the only consistently accessible points in the room through the general chaos. "Knowledge is power and all that."

"Which is another way of asking how much I know, right?"

"Right to the point then."

"I know everything. What happened with the ice at the Fishing Hole. That you and Orlaith were planning to set up this war and turn it in your favor. About Ragnarok. I suppose you're going to deny it?"

There was no more hostility in the General's face than his usual avenging-angel air. "Hardly,” he said. “We belong dead."

Megan blinked in surprise. "So... the whole 'golden age bought by massive sacrifice.' You're going to talk about that out in the open now?”

“Not entirely open,” Inwar said, gesturing to the room. “People are a little busy with the siege. But I have no interest in lying when it's not useful.”

“You had to find it pretty useful, these past couple of years.”

“Yes. Even to those I would have preferred not to. The Queen never knew the full scope, even of the plans in which she was involved. But there was necessity. There is no greater cause than a finer world.”

“A finer world you don't get to see any part of?”

“The absence of anyone remotely like me is how it will be a finer world.”

“Look, General, I know your gods got...embarrassed or whatever... before they left, but...people can still come together and do the right thing. This is crazy. This is so crazy that Robin Freaking Goodfellow had to shape up and warn us about it.”

“And how did he do that? Something to do with kidnapping a small child? Because he had to. Because it's his nature. Because we all are what we are, and in many cases that is just a better class of monster. And it echoes. Everything echoes. A mother goddess cries for her lost child, so a fae mother cries for hers, so a human mother cries for hers. This world is broken. It has to end.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Speaking of the Gray Lady,” Megan said. “You let me railroad her.”

“It was hardly the time to be drawing attention to myself or to the workings of plans. She'd survived far, far worse. Besides, the Unseelie aristocracy are among the worst for whom to try to clear up exact truth in the first place. Though not, perhaps, much worse than pixies.”

And despite everything, Megan smiled for a moment. She wished Ashling were here. Trying to refocus, she looked at the stonily stalwart elvish face and thought about what he'd said about nature. About all the hooks and uncertainties and rules she'd learned about in the past few years, and how often she'd gotten them from the wrong angle.

Megan tried to keep talking. “She made it easy because she was worried I could end up like Tiernan. Is he giving you any trouble now?”

And at that, General Inwar gave a smile of sorts. “We all are what we are, and I can certainly always trust Tiernan to be Tiernan. Shortly before his exile, he had two of his men 'defect.' They were placed under my supervision in the security patrols at Gorias.”

“Tiernan had his own guys on the Fishing Trips?”

"Indeed. They have 'spied' on me through the centuries, feeding him information. They're very good men. They understood the cause within a decade. They told him exactly what I preferred he hear."

“So you triple-agented him. What about now? Just keeping him around for the next Dance?” It was what Megan had assumed before they'd learned the truth, but she was slowly realizing...

“That won't be necessary,” Inwar said. “This most recent Samhain was the last Dance which will ever be needed. As soon as an evacuation of the castle seems appropriate, the Ballroom will be removed from the equation. The Fimbulwinter has, for all purposes, begun. If the better Gods of the golden age find they need seasons, they'll find their own songs for it. But Tiernan's a good warrior. He'll do an excellent job paving the way for that finer world.”

“And what about me?”

"What about you indeed? I trust that those who disappeared from the lines here did so at your command. A surprise, but here, or out there, they're engaging the enemy. We may re-coordinate later. As for you, personally, bards will be useful on the front lines. But to be honest, Highness, I don't think that would be for the best. Go to your friends. You should be looking after your families. Maybe they can survive into the new world. Some people will. The menehune have a fine chance. They're civilians, and they create.”

Megan looked at him for a long while, then turned back toward the armor case. “You know, by unsealing the lake so fast... you pretty much killed your BQF Orlaith. When she didn't even know the full scope."

"She was fated, and nothing I, or anyone else, could do would have changed it. But I will slay our enemies, build such a tribute that our names will never be forgotten. And then we will be together again in legend."

“So they'll still tell stories about people like you in the new world. They just won't have people like you?” She touched the briarmail, and it started to unravel itself as one silky-smooth tendril of thorns encircled her wrist.

“Indeed. Or, in turn, people like the dokkalfar, or like any of the evils or the flawed tools of goodness. No murderers or traitors. No fits of rage or selfish backstabbing. No slowly freezing—or boiling—the world for greed.”

“And I'm guessing,” said Megan drily. “That once the Earth has spent time as one of the battlefields, there'll be no chance to worry over overpopulation, either.”

“Indeed. No famines. No choked conditions. The new human civilizations will have a clean slate.”

“But you can't just end the world because it's messed up!” Megan said. As the briarmail coiled, she kept the mask off so she could continue to face him.

“There will be so much more room for that kind of innocence, Highness, in the golden age. But sometimes there isn't an easy way out.”

“Okay, first, I'm not entirely sure which of us here is the innocent who likes what's easy. You want to break what you can't fix so better people can make a better one.”

“Yes. And second?”

“Second,” Megan said as the briarmail finished curving and coiling its way around her. “Her Highness, as defined by the rules of all this stuff, had a father who was still around before that part of your plan took effect.” She picked up the dagger from the table and pressed it to her hip. Once the briars wound around the sheath to keep it in place, Megan started walking toward the door. “The word you're looking for is 'Majesty.'”

The General let her go.

Chapter 24. Unstable

Once out of the General's sight, Megan took several minutes in a hidden nook to recover her nerve. She pondered how to sneak about the castle to get what else she needed—while also pondering exactly what that was. Hearing the Fomoire out beyond the walls and knowing that she was going to be without her guides this time, she decided the main thing she needed was a faster way to travel.

Unsure how best to get to where she was going without help—and very unsure, overall, just how many allies she had—she ultimately went to the nearest kitchen. All work stopped when the brownies in the room saw her. Finally, one of the bakers dashed up and curtsied. "I'm sorry we're unprepared, Majesty. Please forgive the state of the kitchen."

Megan smiled. "It's all right. It really is." She was briefly tempted to try Lani and Kerr's little salute, but decided that probably wouldn't go over well for someone merely best friends with a half-menehune.
I don't know nearly enough about overnight engineering or mystic housekeeping or how they came together in 1801,
she thought, trying to make herself keep the smile.
My half-sidhe hands probably shouldn't be throwing out the associated gang signs.

"Can I get you something, Majesty? I mean, we're mostly making medicines and rations, but..."

Megan nodded. "Yes, you can get me to the stables without drawing too much attention."

The brownie looked around nervously, as if expecting moral support or backup, before finally looking to Megan. "Me, Majesty?"

"Yes, please."

The brownie sighed, dusted off her apron, and gestured for Megan to follow. They faded from sight as they passed through the kitchen door into the halls. Megan passed dozens of fae on the way out to the stables, but the brownie illusions were as good as she recalled. The brownie grew even more nervous as they left the main castle, able to hear the Fomoire even more clearly beyond the main walls, but the baker stayed with her until they reached the stables, and even assisted Megan in getting past the sidhe watchmen stationed nearby.

"Will there be anything else, Majesty?" the brownie finally asked, as Megan looked around the stables.

"No, thank you. Please return to work, with my thanks."

“Okay. See you on the other side of the war.” The illusion dropped around Megan, and the brownie scampered off back to the kitchens. Megan started pacing through the oddly laid out stables, noting the sheer variety of creatures the fae considered perfect as riding or chariot beasts.

"Finding what you're looking for?" came a familiar voice. Peadar stood at the end of one of the rows, with Gilroy resting on his shoulder. She avoided the redcap's faintly glowing yellow eyes, glancing always instead at the '49ers cap, the sprite in furs on his shoulder, or even the jagged-toothed grin, so she was never looking away, exactly, at least.

"Not yet. Did General Inwar send you to check up on me?"

"Our very own Fisher King didn't mention you at all," the redcap said. "I just picked up on your return, and figured I'd come see what you were up to." He tapped the side of his nose, giving Megan one of his jagged-toothed grins. The sprite on his shoulder did his level best to emulate it. "Of course, hadn't noticed you in a while. In fact, couldn't even tell which direction you'd gone off in. Now that bit, the General did find curious. You've been missed."

"Touching, but no reason to worry. I had a talk with the General. And I was just on my way out."

"Getting armored up and running away? Seems an odd combination," Peadar said, tone still conversational... even if the redcap tended to make his casual conversational sound like most people's distinctly threatening.

"I'm not the one planning on running away," Megan said, pausing near the Dullahan's warhorse. It was the closest thing to a certain ally she had here.

"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean, precisely?"

"You were at the Fishing Hole, so I figured you're bound to know. We saw Balor. We know."

Gilroy started to chatter. "I don't know what you think you know, but—"

Peadar cut him off. "Clever. It's not really running away. It's picking the right battles. The General isn't afraid of the Fomoire. But this isn't a fight we can win ‘til the cavalry shows up."

"If the cavalry shows up," Megan said.

Peadar shrugged. "They will. We'll find the horn, or they'll notice the epic fight on their own. This is just the beginning. There's years and years of blood to come."

Megan nodded. "The beginning. And in the end, it won't matter. He wants Ragnarok. He wants you dead. He thinks you're just as much of a monster as the Fomoire. How do you like that?"

And somehow, Peadar's grin became bigger than Megan had ever seen it all these years. "Oh," he said. "Very, very much."

"What?!"

"Yeah, he explained years ago. The whole world washed clean in an ocean of blood. Most beautiful thing I ever heard. And it matters so much to him. How could we not love a guy like that?"

Megan did her best not to visibly react to the mental image, with mixed results. "I'll give the General this: he certainly has a way of inspiring loyalty."

"Because he has a point," Peadar said. "Speaking of loyal crews, where's your boy in Seahawks livery with the magic sword, huh?" he asked, taking a couple steps forward.

"Sir Justin is about the Queen's business."

"And where's Ashling?" Gilroy asked.

"Exactly where she needs to be," Megan said.

The redcap tilted his head curiously. "So, you're here all alone? That doesn't seem like you at all, Princess. Real team player and all."

The threat was clear, and even if Inwar hadn't sent the redcap to stop her, members of the fishing trip crew had been known to get carried away. She thought about mentioning the Gray Lady, or implying that she had other allies around. Unfortunately, she was still a terrible liar. "I'm here doing my part for the war effort. Same as you. We don't agree on a lot of things, but we both agree the Fomoire are the real enemy. I don't have time to organize perfect grudge matches. My people are out there fighting, and as soon as you get the hell out of my way, I'm going to go join them and shed some blood. You know... while you're sitting here."

Gilroy stood up on Peadar's shoulder. Megan's hand reached for the latch to the warhorse's stall, and she started to hum her inspiration song to counter the effects of the redcap's gaze as she initiated looking him in the eye. Peadar's hand closed on the hilt of his war club, fingers tensing. Then they relaxed, and the grin eased to normal, simply unsettling levels.

"It's all right, Gilroy, we're leaving. If she wants to go fight the Fomoire out in the open, it's her funeral. Maybe she'll take a few down with her." Megan didn't break eye contact or stop humming until Peadar turned. "Best to you, Majesty. Die well." In the last, she thought she heard a hint of actual respect.

As soon as they were gone, Megan spent a while forcing her hands to stop shaking as she caught her breath. She went through her pack, finding some of the fresh fruit Lani had packed, feeding two apples to the Dullahan's horse. "Thanks, boy,” she said, as the horse settled back down, eating the apples. “Sorry I can't take you with me, but your master needs you, and I need him here. We'll be fighting on the same side soon."

She proceeded to where the unicorns were housed, passing the four used to draw Inwar's chariot, formerly Orlaith's. A couple of times, her hand lingered near one latch or another as she pondered the magnificent creatures, remembering them in battle, and how, even at the height of overstimulation, with all the sights and sounds of the charge to Falias across Orlaith's sun-bridge, she couldn't take her eyes off of them. Little-girl daydreams of riding unicorns came to mind, along with much more recent daydreams of riding one into battle, singing her inspirational march at the top of her lungs.

She reached for another latch, then paused, studying the thorny gauntlet. She fed another piece of her fruit to the unicorn, with a sigh. "Sorry."

Then she walked to one of the more spacious kennels, looking at the single wolf sleeping in a corner inside, the rest of his pack recruited for Cassia's efforts. She undid the latch and whistled, getting the wolf to perk up. She walked into the kennel, causing the thorns to withdraw from an offered hand. "You fought for my father. Will you fight for me, as well?"

The giant wolf sniffed at her hand, then whined slightly, nuzzling the hand.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." She looked around the area, finally finding what she was looking for. "I don't suppose you can help me figure out how to put the saddle on you, huh?"