Fifteen #5
Most of the fae came to North America following the human families they had always lived near and around; others came fleeing the spread of “modern civilization” through Europe, looking to get away from iron and firearms. They were looking for peace, not revolution.
When they reached the Westlands, they found them already occupied by the native humans, people who had known and cared for this land for as long as anyone could remember, and they’d taken their own notes about what the land seemed to want.
Then they’d carried those notes into the Summerlands, where they could incorporate them into their gardens and bowers, leaving the mortal side of things untouched.
Unlike our human counterparts, we’d been careful never to displace anyone.
If the spirits the Native Americans believed in existed—and I had no reason to assume they didn’t—then they were on a different plane of reality from Faerie, just like Faerie was on a different plane from the human world.
We were left to our own devices, and so were any other spirits that happened to be hanging around.
Lots of real estate in the theoretical. As long as we weren’t hurting or replacing anyone, there was room for us all.
This orchard was planted purely in the Summerlands.
In the mortal world, we’d be standing in the middle of a redwood grove, surrounded on all sides by towering wooden giants.
Here, the trees had been pushed back to create a clearing large enough for maybe forty trees, some of them draped in clinging vines that put forth flowers or fruit of their own.
The sun was shining on just this narrow patch of the grounds; looking up and out the window, I could actually see the demarcation lines slashed across the sky, cutting out the boundary between night and day, to let the trees have the light they needed.
It was a nice trick, as was the copper-lattice door that appeared in the wall up ahead, looking nothing like any of the other doors we had passed thus far, clearly leading outside. I tested the knob, finding it unlocked.
“All right, Chelsea,” I said. “He has two kids, not too much younger than you are. So you want to be chill and let me take the lead, okay? We don’t want to frighten them more than we absolutely have to.”
She frowned, not looking entirely convinced about leaving Eion’s family unfrightened, but after a moment, she nodded, and I opened the door.
The arbor air was sweet and clean, devoid of pollution in a way that didn’t apply to any places remaining in the mortal world.
No one had ever burned a petrochemical here, or fired up a combustion engine.
The grass growing alongside the narrow stone path was lush and green, dotted with little white wildflowers that glowed in shadow and simply gleamed bright and pristine in the sun.
The smell of lemon trees was almost strong enough to overwhelm everything else.
I followed the path until it started to bend to parallel the body of the knowe, then turned to study what we were passing, looking for some sign of Eion and his family.
The suites on this floor were each accompanied by a small walled courtyard for their residents to enjoy, like a balcony built on the ground instead of up in the air.
Most of them contained a fountain, or a few pieces of outdoor furniture.
The third one we reached held five potted mulberry trees, their canopies spread out enough to become interlocking.
Mulberries are one of the trees favored by Hamadryads. I cut across the grass toward that courtyard, taking note of the toys scattered around the trees, brightly colored and incongruous compared to the elegant marble and brick of everything else around them.
Pausing at the gate, I inhaled deeply. The two smaller mulberries were currently inhabited, the air around them smelling of indistinct, oddly muffled magic. The three larger trees were currently empty.
I opened the courtyard gate and stepped inside, giving the trees a polite berth as I approached the closed door into the suite proper. Raising my hand, I knocked briskly, then stepped back to wait.
Chelsea was not as patient as I was. She was virtually vibrating. I clamped my hand down on her shoulder again, and the look she shot me was almost grateful, like she hadn’t been sure how long she’d be able to keep controlling herself.
“Hold steady,” I murmured. “We’re almost there.”
“You sound so sure,” she complained. “Are you really that certain?”
“Nope. But sometimes I have to pretend hard enough that I believe it if I want to get my job done.” I looked back to the door. “I’ll give him a minute, and then try again.”
As it turned out, I didn’t need to. The door opened almost immediately after that, and there was Eion, still wearing his uniform, eyes tired and expression slack. Then he saw me. His eyes went wide as the weariness fled, replaced by understanding that verged on terror.
“Hi, Eion,” I said. “We came here to talk to you about my ward, Rayseline Torquill. You got a minute?”
He spun to run deeper into the suite, slamming the door as he did. I sighed heavily.
“I hate it when they do this sort of thing,” I said. “Come on, Chelsea.”
“What are we doing?”
I grabbed the doorknob, twisting it hard and shoving the door open. “Going off half-cocked,” I said, and ran.