Chapter 7
Our world is the land of Nerthus, where folk and humans live, but other places exist behind a thin curtain that separate them. Solis has realms of eternal sunlight, and Noctua rules the nine realms of the Netherwhere.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
Patrol that night was quiet but for the continual hooting of an owl.
Owls were thought to be Noctua’s mortal representations, carriers of omens, warnings, and even good luck to those who treated them well.
Or something like that. Thea had never paid much attention to superstition.
Now she was starting to wonder if many of the things she’d thought of as fanciful stories had some connection with truth.
“That owl won’t shut up,” Burke said, his tone unusually bitter.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, scanning the dark woods for signs of movement. “You never minded before.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, holding the lantern higher. “I keep thinking I see flashes of silver among the trees.”
The path did seem darker tonight, the moonlight not finding its way past the canopy. There was no wind, which meant it didn’t feel as cold, but the stillness was eerie.
“Don’t let the swamp dweller’s stories rattle you,” Enora said, but her voice held a hesitation she couldn’t hide. “I’m starting to wonder if the naiads were imagining things. We’ve seen nothing strange.”
“I don’t like the feel of the trees,” Burke said, which might sound like nonsense to some, but to Sylvans, it was a comment worth noting. The trees could sense threats, and if you listened, you could pick up some of their tension.
Thea halted, taking a moment to attune to the forest. Something was amiss. Her voice was pitched low as she said, “No sign of anything strange, but I wonder if we should check back in with your naiad friends.”
“We’ll stop at the tavern again,” Enora said with a nod, “see if anyone has anything new to report.”
They found the Grotto nearly uninhabited despite the mild weather.
Thea’s eyes went to the chair by the fireplace, relaxing slightly when she found it empty, though she wasn’t sure why.
The swamp dweller sat at his usual table.
The only other occupant was the pixie Autumn.
She was curled up asleep on a barstool, her red hair a bright little spot against the dark wood.
Her quiet snores were barely audible. She looked rather sweet when she was asleep, Thea thought.
“What’s keeping everyone away?” Enora wondered aloud, though of course no one answered. Wick was polishing tankards as if her life depended on it, her brows drawn together in worry. She didn’t even seem to notice them.
Thea and Enora exchanged a confused look. Wick usually greeted every customer warmly as they came through the door.
“I’m going to find out if Fen has seen anything new,” Enora said, leaving Thea by the door and moving to the table where the swamp dweller sat. Burke was already heading over to the same table.
Thea sighed. That left her with Wick and the pixie. She headed over to Autumn, hoping to redeem herself after their last conversation. She sat quietly, not wanting to wake her. When Wick looked up and saw Thea, she put her hand to her chest. “I didn’t even see you come in.”
“You seem distracted,” Thea observed softly. “What’s going on?”
Wick chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know. It’s been so quiet. I’ve sold next to nothing the past two nights. Fewer and fewer folk are going out.”
Thea looked around. “Autumn is here.”
“She comes every night,” Wick said, a fond smile curving her lips. “She said she needs a drink after her lessons with Veleda.” Wick winced. “Sorry, but that’s what she said.”
Thea waved that away. “I’m not close with the Court Seer. I recently went to see her, in fact, and she wasn’t much help.”
“Mark my words, Autumn will be a great Seer one day,” Wick said. “She has a gift. One of the things that makes me a good tavern owner is that I can size people up.”
“As it happens, I need someone to help me with a magic problem.” Thea’s eyes shifted to the empty chair by the fireplace, though she wasn’t sure why.
“What’s wrong?” Autumn asked, wiping drool from her mouth with her wrist. Her eyes were bloodshot, her words slurred.
“You’ve had too many thimbles,” Wick chastised. “You need to drink water.” She went over to a tin pitcher and poured water into an extra-large thimble, setting it on the bar. Thea picked it up carefully and offered it to the pixie.
Autumn sat up, swaying to one side so that Thea had to put a finger out to stop her descent off the edge of the seat. “I only drank what I needed to stop the visions.”
“Visions of what?” Thea asked.
Autumn gestured, swaying dangerously once again. “Trees, trees, trees. So many. Unhappy trees.”
Thea moved her hand to stop the pixie from tumbling the other way. “The forest does seem unhappy tonight.”
“Not thissh forest,” Autumn slurred. “Silver one. Coming through. Jingle, jingle. Sounds like chimes when the silver leaves blow in the wind.”
Thea sucked in a breath. “You’ve seen the silver trees?”
Autumn nodded. “They’re coming and going. Soon, they’ll come to stay. And then our trees will be silver, too. The spirits warned me. But no one believes me. Not even Veleda.”
Thea’s anger surged. “Why doesn’t she believe you?”
Autumn frowned darkly, her pouting pink lips like a miniature rosebud about to lose its petals. “She says I’m too index… inex… inner-sperienced.”
“Inexperienced?” Thea suggested.
“What I said!” Autumn put her head down, closing her eyes. “But I know what I saw. And the only way to stop them is…” She closed her eyes, trailing off.
Wick leaned in, and Thea urged her on. “What?”
“It’s not that she doesn’t believe me,” the pixie said, apparently forgetting what she was saying. “It’s that she doesn’t want to.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Thea agreed. “But what’s the way to stop them?”
“Stop who?”
Thea sighed and offered the small tankard of water. “Drink this. You need it.”
Autumn drank, choking on the last mouthful. “Water. Ew. Do you have any blueberry juice?”
“Right away,” Wick said, moving off.
Suddenly Autumn’s eyes seemed clearer, meeting Thea’s urgently. “I only said that to get her to go,” she whispered, leaning toward Thea. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone but you.”
“What is it?” Thea asked. Wick was already pouring the juice, and it didn’t take long to fill a thimble.
“You’re the only one,” Autumn said. “A silly Sylvan. But that’s what the spirit said.”
It took a moment for Thea’s mind to make sense of that. “A spirit told you I can stop the silver trees?”
Autumn nodded. “I’ve been Seeing an elm tree and a fountain. Veleda says those are symbols of your mother.”
The world shifted under Thea’s feet. What did it mean? She’d dismissed the idea before, but was it possible her mother was trying to communicate with this pixie Seer?
“What else did you See?” Thea asked.
The pixie took a lock of her hair and twisted it between her fingers. “She spoke to me. She said, ‘He knows the truth.’ But I don’t know who she meant.”
At that moment, Wick returned, handing the thimble of juice to her patron. “Try this, dear.” Autumn thanked her, sipping delicately.
Thea’s mind raced. There was only one person who knew what really happened to her mother.