Chapter 17 In Which I Learn About Myself #2
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Looked down at my hands.
“I don’t have anything with me except my pack and my clothes.” I held up my empty palms for emphasis.
He looked at my raised hands without interest, and then looked again, squinting. He pointed at my index finger. “That ring is of faerie make,” he said. “Where did you get it?”
I touched my ring, as was my habit. “It was passed down, mother to daughter,” I said. “And now it’s mine.”
“Give me that ring, and I will give you your life.”
I looked at Sahir, wondering why he’d never expressed interest in my ring. He shrugged, probably to indicate that he had never studied the finer points of jewelry making and the provenance of my ring was of no interest to him.
Roman watched me hesitate.
“Human,” he said, “I require no questions. The ring is worth all my knowledge and more. I will owe you some other fair recompense, too.”
Some small part of me wanted to refuse; the ring was always on my finger, and had been my mother’s and my grandmother’s.
I shut that thought down. My mom and grandma would much rather have me than a ring.
“The deal is made, Builder,” I said, twisting the ring off my finger. I held it out to him.
He leaned forward and snatched it from my hand, too fast for my eye to follow.
Which obviously didn’t make me thrilled about parting with the ring.
“The magic wrought by my father and his companions wrung pockets of space from the breadth of our planet. The land of Faerie is a patchwork of earth, of mountainsides and desert spans. Imagine a sewn quilt, with magic for each seam. To enter, and to leave, my father and his companions left crevices in the quilt, places where they did not sew as tightly.” He frowned at me, to check if I understood.
“There are several crevices, which you call portals.”
I nodded, which I would’ve done even if I didn’t understand.
“There is a physiological difference between humans and Fae,” Roman continued. “But it is largely benign.”
He paused. “Well, there are many physiological differences,” he amended, staring judgmentally at my non-goat-adjacent legs.
“But only one relevant to this explanation. Fae are anchored in time but not in space. Humans are anchored in time and in space. Their inchoate sense of place is more stable than ours…” He trailed off.
“Sorry, what?” I said, before I could stop myself.
“It is the difference between…” He stopped again. “Imagine stepping through a doorway, knowing that the vacuum of space presses down on you from beyond the lintel.”
I nodded.
“Now imagine stepping through a doorway into the vacuum of space, and seeing in the far distance another doorway, which will bring you home if you can reach it.”
“Oh,” I said. I stared at my own knees. “I don’t get it.”
“Faerie food is a manifestation of faerie magic, and its consumption destabilizes…” He trailed off, presumably regretting his life choices. “It does not matter, child. I will not explain the biochemistry to you.”
“Well, it kind of does matter,” I said, but he spoke over me.
“I speak truly, and with the knowledge of my father and his father, and the magic of the moon in my blood,” Roman said, staring into my face. His features had taken on a noble cast, stronger and sterner. “If you stepped through a portal, you would not die.”
I couldn’t breathe. I could hardly hear over the rushing in my ears.
“I wouldn’t be bone shards and blood mist?”
“You would not,” he agreed, sage and serene. “You would emerge whole, and could enter and exit Faerie at will.”
“Is this all?” Sahir asked, coldly. “Is this your answer? There is no explanation. There is no proof.”
Roman didn’t look at Sahir. “I owe him no answers,” he said, twirling my ring between his fingers. “But I will tell you this. Faerie will call to your blood.”
Ominous. I shrank inward.
Luckily, I didn’t have to reply, because Sahir was full of indignation.
“Why do you speak in these riddles?” he growled. “Why do you not tell us plainly?”
“I do not owe anyone my allegiance,” snapped the Builder.
“Why will Faerie call to my blood?” I asked, my voice thin and weak.
“It calls to the blood of anyone who consumes Fae magic,” he said with a disinterested shrug.
I wanted to let it go; he clearly wanted to be done talking. But I also didn’t want to traipse through a portal without a little bit more information.
“How do you know I won’t die?”
For a long moment it seemed as though he wouldn’t answer. The Builder stared down at me with implacable, pitiless eyes and an expression as carved as the stone around us.
But then Roman held the ring out in the palm of his hand, as precious as water. “This is a wedding band, child,” he said. “A wedding band my father made. If the women of your line wore it, then a man of your line must have gifted it.” He made a strange noise, almost strangled.
Sahir whipped to his feet like a ballerina in a music box. I’d seen Draculas rise from their coffins with more knee action than that. He clenched his fists, looming over Roman. “You risk her life on conjecture,” Sahir exclaimed, looking ready to perform a murder.
In a stroke of good fortune, the Queen’s soldiers chose this moment to burst through the spaces between the jagged pillars.