Chapter Thirteen
Sephie had slept this morning, when they arrived, but they had been taken to the meeting in the early afternoon, and it was now full dark.
Several of the fae came with them back to the cave, and so did a string of little lights, which floated serenely beside the path, except when forward progress depended on ducking under or swooping over a bush or a tree branch.
Without the lights, the way would have been pitch dark, for the moonlight did not filter down under the trees to the path.
“Rose,” said the woman who was walking beside her, “that was incredible. The elders have told us stories about the music of a bard mage pair, but I thought they were exaggerating.”
“I could see the things you were singing about,” said one of the others, eyes wide with what looked like surprise. “I could feel all the emotions.”
“Yes, as if they were happening to me,” agreed another.
“It was amazing,” the first agreed.
Taz, who was walking ahead with Druisten, looked back over his shoulder, gazed into Sephie’s eyes, and said, “I felt it, too. That was our fourth time singing together, and the first time we have sung without an objective for our spell. My harp teacher said that mage pairs make magic with music, but I thought of it in terms of spells, not just singing for the song’s sake. ”
That was true. They had only just begun to work together.
What couldn’t they do, the pair of them, as their bond grew?
They reached the cave, and most of their escort said their good nights, leaving Druisten to lead them through the passages to their rooms. Another group met them at the door, carrying food and drink, and Sephie suddenly realized she hadn’t eaten since the morning.
“When I was singing, I did not feel hungry,” she commented, “but I am now!”
Druisten laughed. “Next time you entertain us, we shall have to provide some volunteers with ear plugs, so they do not get lost in the music, and remember that our entertainers need to be fed so you and your audience can eat before we all die of starvation.”
Next time. That was promising. Sephie thanked Druisten for his escort and the servers for the food, and could barely wait for them to leave. As soon as the door shut behind the last of them, she helped herself to a pastry that she remembered liking in the morning.
“I am famished,” she told Taz, and he must have agreed, for he helped himself to something that looked like a really thin pancake, but the bowl on the tray with it was filled with a savory mix of vegetables, prawns, and spices.
Experimenting, Taz spread some of the mix onto the pancake and made an envelope of it.
“Mmmm,” he said, after a mouthful. “Really delicious. I am going to eat this to take the first edge of my hunger, then wash, then sit down and eat properly.”
It was a good plan. Whether they would be allowed to stay beyond the morning or not, Sephie had no idea. But her immediate future held good food, a hot bath, and a comfortable bed. For the moment, it was enough.
*
Once again, fae were waiting in their rooms when they awoke. “Good morning, Owl,” said the one standing at the foot of Taz’s bed. “I am Cinioch, and these are my friends Ligarth and Naiton. We brought breakfast, and then we can show you our forest, if you would like.”
Taz nodded, repeating the names in his head and hoping he could tell the three apart well enough to address each man by the right name.
When he emerged into the sitting room, two women were there. “Owl,” they greeted him. “Rose is in the washroom. We came to have breakfast with you and to keep you company.”
“Owl, meet Acha and Maithgemm,” said Cinioch.
More names and faces to remember. It would help if they did not all look so much alike.
Side by side, Taz could tell which was which—for example, Ligarth was the tallest—but he had no confidence he’d be able to recognize them individually or in other company.
At least Maithgemm was one of the rare fae with dark hair rather than white.
“Oh, you are up,” said Sephie, as she emerged from the room with the bath. “Did you sleep well, Ta—Owl? We have company for breakfast.”
They would have to fall in with the group’s plans, Taz supposed. He had hoped to have time with Sephie this morning. Last night, they had both been too tired for much talking. They hadn’t discussed the meeting, or what they would do if the fae would not allow them to stay.
Nor had they talked about the magic they could make with their music. How much more power would they have when the bond between them was complete? Taz could only imagine. Would it be enough to counter the dragon lord? Hebog? The fae? The sooner he could marry Sephie and take her to bed, the better.
*
The first day was the pattern for those that followed. They wandered the forest, talking to people they passed, visiting houses, asking questions about how the fae lived and answering questions about their own world.
Most of the fae spoke English, though some were more fluent than others. Taz and Sephie were always accompanied, wherever they wandered, by fae who were able to interpret for them.
Druisten returned and left again, and others, too, volunteered that they were visiting from other forests in order to meet the bard mage pair. Taz carried his harp everywhere, and he and Sephie sang when invited to do so. They also entertained in the meeting circle on most evenings.
Other musicians took a turn—many of them with instruments unfamiliar to Taz—and often everyone joined the singing.
Frequently, there was dancing, though not the dances Taz was familiar with, nor Sephie either.
Nevertheless, Taz and Sephie were quick to join in and soon picked up the patterns and movements of the fae dances.
Though they asked, no one ever told them they were permitted to stay, but nor did anyone ask them to leave.
Acha, who was one of their most regular escorts, came the closest to an explanation when she said, “The meeting could not decide, so no decision was made. Someone may call another meeting if they feel strongly enough, but in the meantime, enjoy your stay, my friends.”
“But what do your leaders say?” Sephie asked.
“What leader?” Acha shook her head. “Did you not hear us say that we have no kings or queens? Your way of choosing one person to lead in all things seems foolish to us, Rose. Much of life requires no leader. People know what to do and they do it. And if a leader is needed, someone with the skills for that particular situation will offer. No one person can be the best leader for all circumstances.”
Taz found it hard to believe. How did anything get done if they had to have meetings to decide any major question? And didn’t some of them seek power over the others?
Their fae friends merely laughed at such questions. “The more important the decision, the more important it is to get it right,” Acha said. “How can we do that if we do not listen to everyone? As to power, what good would it do me?”
Ligarth had an opinion on the matter. He was Acha’s husband, though the fae did not use that term and did not confine themselves to male-female pairings, or to couples for that matter.
“Even in your world, so the elders say, a good ruler is the slave of his people and must be rewarded with possessions and entertainments to persuade him to live his life thinking of others—either how to keep their loyalty or to defend against their betrayal. And meanwhile, most of his followers are fighting over wealth, status, and who is most important.”
Scathingly accurate. Taz, as Hebog’s foster son, had been largely above the struggles for social position in the mountain compound.
As the holder of a twisted power, he had been beneath the struggles for status.
However, he knew power and hierarchy had consumed the minds of many mages.
Even—Taz felt disloyal even thinking this—even Hebog, who seldom agreed with the mages who led the other resistance movements of the Cymru.
“We do not spend our time and energy on such nonsense,” said Acha. “We have beautiful things to create, food to prepare, flowers and other lovely plants to tend, songs to learn and to sing, the heavens and the world around us to study, our children to cherish and teach, our forests to protect.”
The fae who happened to be present all nodded.
It occurred to Taz that all the children he had seen were of an age that, in the human world, they would be at school or working in a factory or alongside their parents. No babies. No toddlers.
Sephie must have had the same thought, for she said, “I have seen older children, but no babies. Is it because we are strangers from outside?”
Taz hadn’t thought of that explanation, but it made sense.
However, Acha was shaking her head. “We have no babies at present,” she said.
“In all the world, fewer than one thousand fae are born in a year, and there are nearly five thousand forests, some of them with only fifty fae, and others with up to three hundred. If a child is born fae anywhere near this forest of ours, we have the right to claim it, and we shall.”
“Are all your children born to ordinary humans?” Sephie wondered.
“I believe that in the world outside the forests, mages can have children if they give up using magic,” said Ligard.
“That is possible,” Taz agreed, “if the gift is a small one. It is not certain, even then.”
“We do not use magic in that sense,” Ligard said.
“We are magic. Magic is in our blood and our sinews. No fae in history has ever sired or given birth to a child. But all children born fae are ours. It is the agreement with the forests made by the fae and the non-fae, back before recorded history began.” There was something about the way he spoke that made Taz believe he was reciting a quotation.
“At the moment,” Acha said, drawing them back to Sephie’s question, “our youngest child is thirteen summers. It must surely be our forest’s turn for a baby soon.”
Taz tried to imagine growing up in a community of adults and older children, the only baby. Perhaps that was why the children he had seen were so self-possessed. From what the fair folk said, the entire community would treasure any baby they claimed.
Acha had mentioned creating beautiful things. The fae treated all craft and handwork as art, from making and serving food, to crafting furniture, pots, crockery, and other items to use in one of their homes, to the dwellings themselves.
Some of them enjoyed weaving and spinning. They or others made the results into beautiful clothes and furnishings. Even Taz and Sephie wore fae garments now. Their own had disappeared and been replaced, and people often pressed gifts on them of more clothing and jewelry when they sang.
It was the way of the fae. Those who had, gave. Those who needed, accepted. Not once in all the days they spent in the forest did they see any transaction that involved money.
One day, Acha and Ligard announced they were helping to build a house, and Sephie and Taz went along.
Most of those who lived in this forest seemed to be there, and by the end of the day, the foundations had been laid, the walls were up, the roof on, and craftsmen were painting the internal walls with murals.
When someone wanted a house, Acha told them, they told the forest. They chose a site, and asked to use it. If the forest agreed and nobody wanted the site for another purpose, everyone helped with the building. If the site was in dispute, the community had a meeting to decide the matter.
Not all houses were on the ground. Some lived in caves that had been transformed into warm, welcoming, luxurious rooms. Some lived in houses built up in the trees.
Wood was the most common building material, but Taz had also seen stone houses on the ground and houses in the trees woven out of cane and willow.
None were large. The floor plan of their own cave dwelling was the most common. Two bedchambers and a living room, perhaps with a washroom, though the fae also had a communal bathhouse.
Many fae lived in a dwelling with a single room, like a peasant in the outer world, except the house was of the finest construction and richly-appointed.
Some had no dwelling at all. They slept under the trees on fine nights, spread a canopy when it rained, and visited a friend when it snowed.
It was all very strange.
As well as getting to know the fae and their way of life, Taz was growing closer to Sephie.
Not just through their music, though that continued to draw them together, but through talking about everything under the sun.
They woke up to breakfast together, spent each day in one another’s company, and wished one another good night before they parted to sleep in their separate rooms.
If the outside world knew they had lived alone together in a two-bedroom cave, they would be forced to marry, or Sephie would be ruined.
But not once had Sephie mentioned chaperones or reputation.
Had she already made up her mind to marry him, or did she trust him to say nothing?
Either way, Taz took it as a positive sign.