Chapter Samhain
Samhain
I cannot, not for pity, not for the affection I once showed Thomas Shepherd, spare his descendant and let Faery die.
I must make these mortals understand. And so, I show them Faery.
Let them know what will be lost forever if I do not take Tam Lin’s life.
For Janet’s benefit mostly, I make the Veil invisible so all of Faery is in clear view.
Not shadows on the walls, not glimpsed in the distance through the hollow of a tree, not leaking into Carterhaugh when the Veil grows thin.
But Faery itself, in all its enchantment and splendor, all the magic of creation retained in one place.
How powerful a sight it was. Still is. Whenever I return from my travels to the mortal realm, I feel like I have been caught in a long and dreary sleep, and wake to wonder yet again.
Janet’s mouth drops open, and her eyes grow wide.
She steps forward, though she cannot cross the barrier, and reaches out a hand, as on the other side of a prison wall.
I wonder whether her mortal senses fully encompass it, if she feels the presence of the dryads in the trees and the sylphs who slide their way in and out of the forest. Can she hear the nixies who join their laughter to the lapping of the stream?
I can, and I feel suddenly homesick, for a place I only left hours before.
Janet stares spellbound at the twisting spires of my distant palace, purple as dusk, grey as a shepherd’s eyes, deep and soft as the shadows right before one falls asleep. She turns to look at me. “This is Faery? Really Faery, not just a glamour you have conjured forth?”
I should feel insulted, but I only nod, smiling benevolently. “This is what I am working to save. This is what will be lost if I do not take Tam Lin’s life.” Silently I add, This is Faery and Faery is me.
The sweet and spicy scents of eglantine and primrose waft forth, wrapping around us both as Janet takes a deep breath. The bushes rustle, then part, and a tiny rabbit hops out, perfectly ordinary except for the fact it is green.
Phouka, I think with a smile.
From behind a nearby birch tree a shy ghillie dubh peeks out. We catch a glimpse of his dark hair and the mossy suit he wears before he vanishes.
“It is everything I imagined it was,” Janet says.
Tam Lin puts a hand on her shoulder, frowning. “It is not like that for us.”
Janet breaks free of the spell, faces him with a frown.
“They dance us mortals to exhaustion, pull us out of our own time and send us back after all we knew is dead,” Tam Lin says.
“Because time does not pass the same in Faery,” I say, with a wave of my hand. “And we do not weary; why should you?”
Tam Lin scowls. “We cannot eat your food. Not if we want to go home.”
“We cannot imagine why you would want to go home. And yet I fed you plenty of mortal food. You did not starve while in my demesne.” Oft I had the goodies mortals leave out for the brownies gathered for him to eat, or had my hunters catch beasts in the woods of Carterhaugh.
“I do not know what you have to complain about. You slept on coverlets of silk in a bower blooming with all the flowers of spring. Every luxury was yours while you remained in the Faery realm. You were the queen’s consort. ”
“I was your slave!”
My roses—nay, my minions—wrap themselves around the hapless lordling, Roxburgh’s grandson, de Lyne’s get.
They twine themselves up his long legs and around his arms, weaving tendrils over his ears and mouth and twisting into his long dark hair.
They do not hurt him; I will not permit that yet. I believe he can even breathe.
I wave my hands, and the roses subside, loosen, and fall around his ankles. I would not have them give any more credibility to his complaint. “You did not seem like a slave,” I tell him. “You came to me willingly enough.”
He blushes again and avoids Janet’s eyes. “Who can ever resist the Faery Queen?”
You can, I think. Both of you are resisting me now. And while I send out a whiff of my magic, the aroma of rose and honeyed wine, I do not go any further. I want them to acquiesce, but I can force nothing. Janet must yield him up of her own free will.
In the distance, far beyond the scope of her mortal hearing, something falls crashing to the ground. A tree. A tree-folk. A giant taken down in his prime. It hardly matters which. It is part of Faery and part of me.
Too many things now have become part of Faery and part of me.
Faery is dying, and I feel myself weaken, bones as mere stems, skin as fragile as cobwebs to the touch. I am glad none of my own people are present to witness these signs of enfeeblement, that they might recall their queen’s half-mortal nature, and think they might take my place.
“And I must finish it, ere Samhain is over. Else all of Faery will be the price.” I meet Janet’s eyes, and let my voice grow soft. “The Faery I have shown you now. Do you wish it to die?”
But Janet sidles up to Tam Lin and does not answer. She does not seem to hear me at all.