23. Fairyland Rules
23
FAIRYLAND RULES
If she thought of this as a road trip, Ari discovered it became possible to enjoy a horseback hike. It was certainly faster than walking. She watched Hannixe carefully, copying the other woman’s sway in the saddle, holding reins in the same fashion.
Fringes of woodland cut across grassy undulations, their shadows cool and inviting. Grass touched the equines’ bellies in places so the entire group looked like bobbing swimmers, and a tang of mint rode the soft sweet breeze when juicy blades were crushed under shod hooves.
The chained man was a black blot at the head of the group, and Jazarl’s men took turns splitting off in pairs ahead and behind, vanishing almost as soon as they left despite the paucity of hiding places. Keners joined Majan halfway through the morning, with a single burning glance at Hannixe, and she sighed as he faded from view.
“He worries,” she said, softly. “But this is much safer than the Road, or the lands near the Keep. Now that you have the Carcanet, of course, there is far less danger.”
The necklace, hidden under Ari’s mantle, gave another soft reassuring pulse of warmth. It seemed almost alive, or maybe she was just uncomfortable thinking about the other woman who had worn it.
Their queen, their Moon.
Hannixe apparently expected a reply, so Ari cleared her throat. “It’s very light.” She watched the chained man crest a slight hill, his dark head turning as he scanned the grass ocean, the thickening archipelagos of woods both evergreen and deciduous.
“For you, yes. Another attempting its use would not find it so.” Hannixe seemed part of her horse’s rhythm; its hide almost exactly matched her cloak. “Look, geserin . They gave the village its name.” She pointed at a mound of bushes loaded with small white flowers.
“ Geserin ,” Ari echoed, attempting to place the accent correctly. The other woman was full of plant trivia; if she wasn’t a botanist, she gave a damn good impression of one.
“Just so. They are used to flavor certain tinctures, and give a sweet scent to bedding.” The breeze teased at Hannixe’s grey mane, lifting curls and bringing a becoming flush to her soft cheeks. She glanced sideways, as if gauging Ari’s reaction. “Little medicinal benefit, but each bloom has its place.”
Here was another chance to make an ally. At least Ari could feel good about that. “You know a lot of plants.”
“Never enough, though I thank you for the compliment.” A slight drooping motion, giving the impression of a curtsy even while in the saddle. “Herbs do not wholly make a healer, for all they help immensely. And you have ever loved flowers—I should ask, my lady Ari, do you like them now?”
“Flowers are good.” So far, she was doing reasonably well. At least she wasn’t embarrassing herself. “And it’s just Ari, please. My lady sounds a little… formal.” A subtle social gambit, asking to be upgraded from stranger to acquaintance. It took time, even if the other person was amenable.
“Ah, it is our habit.” Hannixe’s smile was a wonder. If Burne-Jones saw her he might well expire on the spot, or start painting a slightly less sacred triptych. “But I will address as it pleases you.”
That was even more encouraging. “Can I ask… the Moon-lady, your queen. What was her name?”
“Your name is Ari, is it not? Ariadne.” Hannixe tested the word, and now she was attempting to mimic Ari’s accent instead of the other way ’round. “’Tis beautiful.”
“No, I mean before.” When your queen was strangled . No wonder they didn’t want to talk about it; the event seemed traumatic as fuck. Now they were on their way to the Mere, maybe for some ceremony or to meet other resistance fighters; Ari had to find out what would be expected of her. “The misfortune.”
“I cannot say.” Hannixe sobered. “The grief, the pain—it was too much, you understand. The shock when he found you on the shore of the Mere killed a great many of us.”
“Us?” Ari took a deep breath, reshuffling her list of theories and questions. Maybe the name thing obeyed ancestor-worship rules, or fairytale ones?
Which was a sobering thought. Especially its corollary— which set of laws, precisely? Were all fairytales about this planet with its red giant sun and scarless, plate-dish moon, or were there others in the universe just waiting for people to happen onto them?
“Your companions, my lady. Some from the Whispering, others from the mortal realm.” Hannixe glanced to her right; Sarle was riding there, but too far away to hear the conversation.
Grass rippled in vast sea-patterns, and the sheer seamless reality of this place hit Ari again. If this was Tir nan Og or a different dimension instead of a separate planet, was her own world zooming ahead on fast-forward without her?
Being tossed back into her own dimension as a Rip van Winkle sounded distinctly unappetizing. But maybe the statute of limitations would have run out?
It was a consideration. She couldn’t even wonder about this Whispering thing yet; maybe it came after the Mere.
“My lady?” Hannixe, anxious now. “You seem troubled. Perhaps I should speak less.”
Oh, crap . “No, not at all. I like it. The men, they’re not very communicative.” Of course, being chased by big horned robots didn’t leave a lot of time for heart-to-hearts.
“In truth it is a relief to have my voice once more. I s-simply could not speak, with you gone. But now you are here, and it is…” The grey-haired woman tilted her head, beaming mistily in Ari’s direction; her voice had smoothed amazingly and the stutter was all but gone. “It is very good.”
Did Hannixe think Ari was amnesiac? No, because the queen had been murdered. Maybe it really was a reincarnation thing, or a succession— the King is dead, long live the King , or something similar? Was any mortal who fell through the door nominated for the position? But the chained man seemed to operate under the same assumptions, acting like no random passerby could have yanked the sword out of its yielding prison and also attributing drinkable pondwater to Ari personally.
They were all assigning an awful lot of competence and importance to a ‘stray mortal’ who was simply stumbling through increasingly outlandish scenarios, hoping not to trip too badly.
Whatever reply Ari might have made was lost in a coughing growl to the left; it sounded disturbingly close. Ari stiffened, and the white equine’s ears pricked.
“’Tis only a kitha -cat hunting,” Hannixe soothed. “They will not dare attack mounted riders, especially with our prince nearby.”
That’s great . Still, Ari kept a sharp lookout. The landscape was pretty, certainly, but the reminder that she didn’t know even half the dangers here was a slap of icy water, as if she’d overslept on a day Wanda Lee had plans.
Their group contracted, the men’s equines pressing closer, and stayed that way as the red sun mounted higher. Hannixe pointed out other plants; their names slipped right through Ari’s head and vanished. The biggest question was what she was supposed to do at this Mere, followed closely by the sickening feeling that the Bright King might have something awful planned for whoever still resisted him. If Ari had any brain-cycles left over she could also wonder about those mortal doors, fairyland rules, and how she would get home.
Unless, of course, she didn’t want to. How reasonable was it to hope she could stay? No cop or judge would find her here—but the ‘faithless accursed’ and his robots, not to mention the ‘restless dead’, might.
There was never really any escape, Ariadne knew. Not for people like her.
A dark line lingered on the horizon for a long while, then crept steadily closer. Ari eyed this new development nervously, and was relieved when Hannixe let fall that it was forest, not some fun geographical feature like the Breach.
At the first short halt Ari watched as Hannixe dismounted and found, much to her relief, that she’d guessed how to perform the maneuver reasonably correctly. The Grey Lady clearly expected the Fox to assist her, but that also meant Ari had to half-fall from the white equine’s back into the chained man’s hands. Each time he caught her with no apparent effort and she landed soft as a whisper, but continued success didn’t make it less unnerving.
Especially considering the way his hands lingered on her waist before he stepped away.
The growling things weren’t the only inhabitants of the grasslands. Ari spotted bigger game, like long-legged brown animals shaped somewhere between mules and deer, browsing singly or in loose groups. Leaping not-antelopes moved in flocks like dolphins, their horns bright blue dabs and their tails white rabbity cottonpuffs. Birds suspiciously like hawks floated on thermals, the smaller brown or blue-and-white feathered things keeping close to the ground while predator-shadows drifted overhead.
The white-flowering bushes were joined by purple blooms bearing a resemblance to lupines, splashes of crimson near-poppies, tall spiky things akin to black sunflowers, and thistle-like spires with wicked prickles as well as seedpod burrs the size of her thumb.
It would suck to fall into a bed of those. So far there didn’t seem to be any poison ivy, so that was a blessing. But an occasional blurring buzz like rattlesnakes came from one side or the other, and each time it did Hannixe glanced in that direction with a look of mild concern until the noise faded.
Still, the stops were welcome. At least Ari didn’t seem to be developing blisters, and the white equine wasn’t upset at its rider’s lack of expertise.
“Too quiet.” Jazarl shook his head, waving aside the offered canteen. None of the guys seemed to want a drink, though Hannixe took a mouthful and Ari at least three gulps—not meaning to be greedy, but it tasted wonderful.
A dull faraway ache from unaccustomed exercise retreated under the cool flow. She could only imagine what it would feel like without the pondwater.
“Our enemy is no doubt watching the Road.” Keners squinted, staring into the distance; he accepted the canteen from Hannixe and capped it by touch, with an efficient twist. “He would not expect us to brave the Poisonwood from this angle.”
Poison wood? Nobody mentioned that bit before . Maybe it was a figure of speech, but she couldn’t be that lucky. Ari suppressed a shudder; Hannixe’s shoulder pressed against hers. The other woman seemed to find closeness comforting, and Ari had to admit she didn’t mind.
“He may have gathered forces to strike Gesthel.” Darjeth was keeping watch in another direction; his tone was soft, calculating. “Expecting us to bring our lady Moon to her handmaiden, and hoping to…” He trailed off, thoughtfully.
“We have done what we can to confuse the trail.” Alzarien pushed his hat up, rubbing at his forehead. The red tips to his eyebrows and lashes matched a shadow of stubble on cheeks and chin. “And no doubt the Fox left a few gifts in the village.”
“In the surrounding fields as well, as is my habit.” Keners shrugged. “The Golden are not particularly intelligent. Though stubborn, I shall grant them that.”
“Do you think perhaps the faithless accursed would leave the Mirrored City and ride for the village?” Sarle did not quite hunch defensively, but he did lean slightly back on his heels as the chained man’s gaze settled upon him. “It must be asked, my lord prince. He will want to… make certain, whether he intends to acquire or to…” The sentence petered out, and the stocky man looked away.
A thick, uncomfortable silence descended.
“Acquire?” Ari sounded small and deeply unnerved, even to herself.
“He declared himself king of the Underdark.” Majan’s hair ruffled as a breeze swept past, sighing in the grass; he replaced his hat with a swift habitual motion. “But as the Blight spread, he could not cleanse the Mere or bring those surviving of the Keep to his service without force and the contagion of his curst Law. The villagers left or were taken by infection; there is nothing for him to rule. Though treacherous, he is not stupid. Murder achieved him nothing; he may now seek instead to kidnap.”
Now Ari was wondering just who had lived in the abandoned village—and they talked like there had been more than one hamlet, too. What kind of infrastructure did this place have? Did the queen make decisions about sewage, real estate zoning, property taxes? Were there foreign affairs? Other heads of state? Ministers and spies?
Nobody mentioned neighboring countries.
“The Golden were indeed pursuing her,” Jazarl weighed in. “But we have seen none of the rotting filth save the one detachment upon the Road.”
“Passing back and forth, as if to net a fine catch.” Naithor nodded, but he was pale under his tan and very deliberately did not look at the chained man.
Who stood near Ari, staring past the equines. Though his expression hadn’t changed, set and closed, an invisible roil of fury spread from him. The chains hanging from his arms moved uneasily; the ones wrapping his legs and torso gave sinuous twitches. Even Hannixe regarded him nervously, and glanced at Ari as if she should know what to do.
Was there a universe in which she wouldn’t be called on to soothe angry men? It didn’t seem possible.
“Well, he hasn’t caught us yet.” She tried to make her tone pragmatic, calming, and inoffensive all at once, but probably only succeeded in sounding nervous. “And once we reach this Mere, we’re safe, right?” It came out as correct , perhaps not with the shade of meaning she wanted.
The chained man looked down at her, and the deep staticky unsound of rage drained away all at once. “You are already safe, my lady.”
Am I? It was a dizzying change, anger vanishing as if it had never existed. Was he just good at hiding it? Mike had been, at first; she now studied this man, who was far more dangerous than her husband had ever been.
Ex- husband. Any way you sliced it the divorce was final, and if she was dumped back in her own mortal world at least she’d never have to deal with him again. A small mercy, but also an utter relief. Even the guilt of pulling the trigger was eclipsed by that consolation. Which probably just showed what an awful person she was, but at the moment Ari didn’t care as much as she should.
She realized she was staring up at the chained man, that dark feverish gaze locked with her own.
Behind his screen of indifference and the sense of barely controlled, murderous power, something else lurked. It peered at her, cocking its sleek dark head, and the pale smear at the bottom of each pupil-well was her own face, reflected in tiny, astonishing detail. For a moment nothing else existed, Ariadne and this nameless man stranded in a blank wilderness.
“Of course,” he said softly, as if she had spoken. “Do you doubt it?”
What? “No,” Ari heard herself reply, hoping it was what he wanted to hear. “Not really.”
“Good.” The barest hint of a smile touched his mouth, there and gone in a moment like lightning.
The rest of the world rushed back, a wheel of color and sensation, and she was abruptly aware of standing in the middle of a group, Jazarl’s men looking away with faultless politeness, Hannixe studying Ari’s profile anxiously and Keners watching the grey-haired woman, a leather canteen dangling from his left hand.
“We shall reach the Poisonwood soon,” the chained man continued, turning to gaze at the dark line in the distance. “Stay close, and use the greatest of care.”