Boots for the Gentleman (34 page)

“For the spell! For Frolic!”

“Oh, but not because you would have enjoyed it! Maybe you could have asked him to join us after a bit?”

“That’s not fair,” Querry said defensively, getting angrier and more confused each second.

Reg took a deep breath and said, “No, it isn’t. I’m sorry I said that, but I don’t want any of him to be part of our Frolic. We have to find some other way. You said yourself it needs to express true love. You can’t possibly believe him capable of feeling love as we do. Maybe none of them can. I absolutely won’t budge on this point, Querry. We’ll have to think of something else. I’ve already compromised more than I would have liked.” He lifted his hand toward his mouth and considered his fingernails.

“Is there a problem?” the faerie asked from the bottom of the steps. He held a little jar that pulsed with warm, red light.

“Sir….” Querry had no idea where to begin. How could he tell his gentleman that he planned to refuse his intimate and beautiful gift?

“Shall I do the magic now?” the faerie asked, striding confidently toward Frolic. “It should not take me long.”

“Actually—” Reg began, but stopped when Querry shook his head. He chewed on his thumbnail as he scowled.

“We’re all very tired,” Querry said. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, Reg and I would prefer to wait until morning.”

The gentleman’s eyes glowed from the shadowy corner of the room, scrutinizing Querry until he felt the gaze scraping against his soul. He had to look away. It suddenly felt cold. Shivering, Querry piled a few more logs on the fire and jabbed at the coals with the poker. He felt the faerie’s eyes on his back, like icy water running down his spine. The wind picked up, howling down the mountainside and shaking the walls of the little house. When the gentleman spoke, his voice sounded just as frigid and terrifying.

“Have I not done everything you asked of me, Querrilous? You should be falling at my feet with gratitude, but you insult me instead?”

“Sir, no!”

An icy gust swept down the chimney, extinguishing not only the fire but all of the candles. In the blackness that followed, Querry saw nothing but the faerie’s eyes, smoldering with anger and offense. Reg’s breath faltered somewhere off to the left. Querry pawed at the darkness until he found his arm. He pulled Reg close and shielded him in his arms, though he had no idea how he’d be able to save them. He felt enchantment crackling in the air like electricity before a storm. It moved over his skin, making the fine hair stand up.

Instead of any of the perverse violence Querry expected, the magic fluttered around the room, igniting the fire in the hearth and the candles on the stands. The faerie looked around bewildered, telling Querry he hadn’t cast the spell. The kettle that they’d emptied earlier that evening filled itself and began to whistle and steam. A coarse wool blanket unfolded itself and spread itself across the back of the sofa. The closet door creaked open, and a well-worn pair of suede slippers padded across the floor and waited beside the ottoman. Querry jumped when a cork popped out of a wine bottle on the counter. A full pipe with a brass bowl materialized beside it.

“What on earth?” Reg said.

In answer, the doorknob turned and the door swung open, admitting a gust of wind and snow, and a man in an old-fashioned traveling cloak. Ice lay thick on the shoulders and the hood that obscured the stranger’s face. Querry broke away from Reg and retrieved his sword from the corner, his mind swarming with the gentleman’s tales of the bloodthirsty demons living in this part of the world.

“Who and what are you?” Querry asked, extending his blade toward the dark, cloaked figure.

The man pushed the hood back and shook the sparkling crystals from his long, auburn hair. He couldn’t have been a day older than Querry or Reg. “I’m Kristof,” he said with a gentle smile. “What are you doing in my house?”

Querry lowered his arm, almost too amazed to speak. “Your house?”

“Yes,” the young man said, hanging his cloak on a hook near the door. He removed his gloves and went to pick up the wine that had opened itself in anticipation of his return. “I expected a bit more dust,” he said with a chuckle. He looked around and noticed the faerie gentleman, standing over Frolic near the window. The bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor, but he didn’t seem aware of it. Kristof said a word like cherry blossoms on a spring breeze as he threw himself into the other man’s arms. The faerie stared at his face and touched his brow as if to prove to himself Kristof existed. A tear ran down his cheek, and Kristof caught it on his finger. They exchanged a few whispered words in fey before they started to kiss. The reunion grew so heated that Querry and Reg had to look away.

“Still going to tell me that’s not love?” Querry said softly to his companion.

Reg only snickered, shook his head, and squeezed Querry’s hand.

A
FTER
several glasses of wine and half an hour relaxing in front of the fire, everyone calmed down and put the earlier altercation to the backs of their minds. Kristof and the faerie gentleman sat on the couch stroking each other’s fingers and cuffs as if it hurt them not to touch. Querry and Reg sat cross-legged on the floor, their backs to the hearth. They snacked on cold sausage, pickled beets, boiled eggs, and sharp cheese. Kristof regaled them with fantastic tales of his travels in the Other World and the vast knowledge he’d gained there. He proved an engaging and entertaining storyteller. To Querry’s great relief, Reg appeared to enjoy the anecdotes as much as any of them.

“Tell us how you learned magic, Kristof,” he urged with authentic interest.

“Ah, well.” The young man looked embarrassed and played with his cufflink. His clothing seemed antique and his long hair anachronistic. Even the cadence of his speech dated him a bit. “I don’t remember a time in my life when magic wasn’t present. My father was a simple man, and happy to be so. He worked as a veterinarian around the countryside where we lived. His arcane knowledge assisted him in his profession.”

“You learned magic from your father?” Reg asked.

“Yes, he taught me. Though I must admit I’d mastered the dozen spells he knew by the time I was five. You see, he cared only for that magic that helped with the lambing in the spring or healed a horse’s wounded foot.”

“That’s not the extent of your schooling, though,” Querry inferred.

“No, certainly not,” the wizard confirmed. “My mother’s father was a respected and learned Wizard in the College of the Arcane Hand, in Bravelstein. He’d been retired many years by the time I was born, but I spent my summers at his estate. He taught me everything he knew about the Mystic Arts, the Arcane and the Noble Magics. All the things my father scoffed at. And yet—” the gentleman’s lover trailed off.

“And yet?” Reg prodded, eager to hear the rest. The magician chuckled.

“I learned more from the land around me than anything: the tidal pools that pitted the beach, the shadows the trees cast at twilight, the rocky crags that disappeared into the clouds.”

“The soft places,” the gentleman said.

“Yes,” Kristof agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “The places that were neither water nor soil, light nor dark, sky nor earth. That is where I first heard the voices of the
Sidhe
.” He looked at his faerie lover with unabashed adoration. “Beings who knew magic like we humans know breath. Magic is their flesh and blood, their language. I learned to speak those words, learned so much, and then—”

“The Crown gathered the wizards and drove them out,” Reg said softly.

“Let us talk of other things,” Kristof said, looking at Reg and trying to smile, though it looked like he’d drunk sour milk.

“Of course. What brings you back from the Outer Lands?”

“Do you not know?” Kristof’s tone grew frantic. “Someone has, has—” he couldn’t articulate his theory, so he demonstrated by punching the air in front of him. “There’s a hole in the veil between the realms. And through that hole, the energy, the life, the
magic
, is being siphoned from the Other Lands. As I’ve said, magic is their sky, their rain, their everything. The signs are subtle, but the Old Places are dying. If this keeps up, they’ll collapse. And the human world will follow. I came back to find out how and why this is happening, and to put a stop to it.”

“You must help him, Querrilous,” the gentleman said. “That is the boon I ask of you.”

Querry quickly said, “Of course!”

Reg said, “Why?”

“Why?” Kristof gasped. “This is disastrous! Your world can no more exist without the Other than it can without the sky above it or the rock beneath!”

“But first Frolic,” Reg firmly insisted. “That was our deal, was it not?”

Querry sat up straighter, swelling with both shock and pride at his partner’s audacity and courage. “Yes, Frolic,” he agreed.

Kristof stood and walked slowly toward the still body on the bench. “He had life. True life. What must we do to return it to him? He, he feels worthy, deserving—”

“It’s a simple bit of magic,” the faerie stated. He rose and stood a few feet behind the young wizard. “I have all of the spell components. We need only to weave them together and encase them in a glass shell. Then we can restore this young man to life and the three of them can help us close the rift.”

“Glass?” Kristof mused, examining Frolic’s injuries, “no, glass is not strong enough. My love, let us cast together a hard gem of these elements. A white-hot ruby invulnerable to destruction.”

“Yes!” The gentleman clapped his hands. “A marvelous idea. Let us get to creating it right away!”

Kristof looked to Querry and Reg for permission. Querry waited, his eyes on his companion. Reg took Kristof’s hand and held it, saying “Please help him. He’s very dear to me. I can see you understand what that means.”

“Yes.” The young wizard smiled sincerely. “This will be a brilliant enchantment. Wonderful, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Reg said, squeezing and then releasing Kristof’s fingers.

“Let us do the magic,” Kristof said.

F
ROLIC
’
S
head rested in Reg’s lap, and Querry sat behind him with his knees pressed against Reg’s forearms and his hands on Frolic’s neck. On either side of Frolic’s waist, the gentleman and Kristof sat with their eyes closed and their fingertips drawing delicate symbols upon one another’s palms. Their lips mouthed the mystic fey words, though Querry heard nothing. He ignored it and concentrated on the memories of his lost love. Doing so, he felt a warmth in his palms that spread into Frolic’s body. He felt his energy draining into Frolic, and he was happy to give it.

I want you back. I love you, need you,
Querry thought. He opened his eyes just in time to see Kristof and the faerie knit their fingers together. A scarlet orb formed between their palms, and soon it contracted and solidified into a ball, then a brilliant jewel that glowed so brightly that it hurt Querry’s eyes even when he closed them again, the vermillion glow searing through his lids.

“Place it there,” he heard Reg instruct.

“It’s done,” the gentleman said.

Querry expected to see Frolic spring to life, blink his eyes with confusion, maybe, and then sit up. Instead, Frolic lay still with his dulled eyes on the ceiling. The faceted jewel the faerie and the magician had conjured pulsed within his chest, illuminating the faces of the men who now leaned over him. His gears remained motionless.

“What’s wrong?” Reg asked quietly. “Why isn’t it working?”

“I have done the magic as you asked,” the gentleman said. “Don’t expect me to understand the workings of an inelegant machine. The enchantment is flawless, as powerful a spell as I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s hardly an inelegant machine,” Kristof argued gently, touching Frolic’s round chin, “but you’re right. Our work is perfectly wrought. I’m afraid all of these gears and wires are beyond my realm of expertise as well.”

“Querry?” Reg asked, turning to look over his shoulder.

Querry considered. He’d practically memorized the book, and felt certain none of his own work had been improperly done. He couldn’t imagine why Frolic still slept. A quarter of an hour passed as he retraced his steps, checking and rechecking the repairs. Despair loomed over him as he stared into Frolic’s chest, watching his new heart burn within its golden casings. “I don’t know what I could have missed,” he said to himself. “He should be alive. Moving and breathing—

“That’s it!”

“What?” Reg asked, crouching down beside Querry.

“Steam,” Querry said. “Steam travels through all of these conduits,” he showed Reg by pointing, “and causes his gears to turn. Each gear then turns several other gears, and so on. He needs steam to get his engines started. Steam needs two things: heat, which we have, and water to be evaporated.”

“Water?” Reg asked.

“Yes. He has sacks in his lungs which collect the water vapor from the air and channel it to his heart. We need to fill his lungs. Open his mouth and breathe into them, Reg.”

Reg looked surprised for a second, but then he tilted Frolic’s head back and did as Querry said. Querry heard him inhale deeply and watched Frolic’s lungs expand. Reg did this three times before he had to sit up and regain his own breath. Frolic still didn’t move.

“Again,” Querry said.

Reg looked ready to argue, but he leaned back down to Frolic’s mouth. He inflated Frolic’s lungs five more times before stopping to rest. Then he bent in for another three breathes. Just when Querry was about to give up hope, he heard an almost imperceptible hiss. Slowly Frolic’s gears began to turn, triggering the chain reaction that Querry had described to Reg. Miniscule wheels turned, and tiny pistons thrummed up and down. Frolic gasped like he’d been drowned, and his chest heaved off of the floor. Kristof and the faerie gentleman, who’d been talking in the kitchen, hurried over to observe. Frolic’s body convulsed. His limbs flailed and smacked against the wood. Reg tried to shush him and stroked his face, looking worried. Frolic’s head turned from side to side. Reg’s hands over his ears could barely hold him still.