Blood & Flowers (12 page)

A
fter his one appearance Reginald wasn't seen again, and I let him drift off to a holding cell, one of those places in your mind that you know is there but that you don't access much. The thought of him nudged me every once in a while, but it was never enough of a nudge to do anything about. Everyone else seemed to be acting the same way. Out of sight, out of mind, more or less. Or, it may simply have been because of bicycle theater.

So far that consisted of late-night discussions, technical meetings, laments about lighting, and loud moans about costumes. It was taking up an
unaccountable amount of our time, but not in a bad way. More as if this was what we'd come to Faerie for all along, and we wanted to mount the best possible show for this new breed of audience.

Nicholas worried about the portability of lights. Max and Lucia muttered about the computer they'd left behind, and went back to old-style tickets and accounting methods. Floss swore softly about ankle skirts catching in bicycle chains, which I didn't understand. Why ankle skirts when we didn't even know who was what? But that was just Floss. Tonio paced and thought, and paced and thought. He'd discarded the “let's play ourselves” plan on the grounds that it was too predictable and was now trying to come up with something truly memorable.

“
Midsummer Night's Dream
from the fey perspective,” he tried.

Floss sent one hard look his way and said, “It already is. And no.”

Tonio paced more.

I was already at work, but my work was for Bron and Rohan. I'd scoured our little corner of Faerie,
looking for book boards and cloths. I'd practiced and discarded most of the bindings I knew how to make and was searching for a way to meet Bron's main requirement: easy to update. No plastic sleeve was my own requirement. Plastic is not good for birds, beasts, or menus.

Bron himself came and hovered over my shoulder so often that I finally said, “I feel like I have a wayward guardian angel,” which made Rohan laugh and say, “Guardian something, perhaps, but I think you missed the mark with angel.”

Bron only said, “Feel however you like. Just make me menus.”

I flipped my latest attempt onto its stomach and rapped its back with my knuckles. It flopped down on the table, flat, like an obedient dog playing dead. I looked at it in surprise, then said, “Well. That seems to work.”

Bron reached a long arm over my head. He turned the book over, then closed, opened, and closed it with a snap. “And how do you update, change the specials? I refuse to add those little extra sheets that get lost
and dropped and trampled underfoot.”

“No. Look.” I was excited. “You pull these.” I slipped the thick silver—real silver—pins from the spine. “And voilà! Add what you need, take out what you don't, and push in the pins….” I held it up, all together again, and beamed at Bron.

He fiddled with my book for a few more seconds. “Persia, this is so much better than what we have. It's genius. And so are you.”

I grinned. “Did everyone hear that? Genius.”

Floss snorted, but she smiled at the same time.

El Jeffery, who'd been busy modeling those ankle skirts for Floss said, “Impressive.”

Tonio said, “Of course you are, darling. We all knew,” and paced back to the other side of the room.

Max, who was obviously involved in other things, said, “What about a slide rule?” and Lucia said, “Max, I don't know a thing about slide rules. But if you do, it'll at least work here. We'd never have to worry about electricity.”

A much better reaction came from Nicholas, and it was also the sweetest. He leaned over, kissed me
on the nose, then moved down and bussed me on the cheek. “Brilliant” was all he said, but I felt like I was ten years old and had been given a pony.

 

We may not have had a play, but we did have bicycles, two slick silver purple things that gleamed like summer rain. And we had one flat, gray, ratty unicycle that didn't gleam at all and looked as if it never had.

El Jeffery, of all people, showed up on the unicycle the afternoon after my triumph with the menus. He was followed by Fred, riding one bicycle and leading the other. Or maybe “leading” wasn't quite the right word. It was more that the second bicycle trailed him like a puppy learning to heel.

The first words out of Floss's mouth were, “Do they know you took them?”

Fred apparently didn't need to ask who “they” were. “They don't even have any idea you're here as far as I can tell. They're not tuned into you like El Jeffery and I are.”

Floss snorted. “They're not tuned into me at all.”

Fred shrugged and seemed to know there wasn't
anything else to say. He and his two bicycles had stopped directly in front of Dau Hermanos. The riderless one stood at attention behind Fred's rear wheel. Magic. I watched it enviously. I couldn't stand that straight on two feet, and I was beginning to feel tested in the worst way by the magical things all around me. Balancing bicycles, for example. It was like the air in Faerie was extra-ionized, making anything possible. It made me feel as if I should be doing something strange and wonderful. I wondered briefly just what that thing might be, then let it go. The something would either show itself or it wouldn't. I didn't think I could force it.

Then Floss asked, “What about Feron?”

“Our beloved brother? You expect him to be paying attention to you?” Fred laughed with no humor. “You've been gone longer than I thought, then. Think about it. Fer is, and always has been, only concerned with Fer. You don't need to worry about him.”

“On the contrary. I haven't been gone that long, and I don't expect him to know about me. I just don't know if he has spies. And I always worry about him.
It's smart to worry about the people you don't trust. It keeps them in the front of your mind so that you recognize it right away if they try something sneaky.”

Fred shook his head. “No spies as far as I know. And he's hardly been around for months. I don't know where he has been, but it's not here. Leave him out of the equation.”

Floss didn't look convinced, but all she did was say “Hmm.”

The exchange made me wonder again about their family, the one that ruled things. Since this was something I'd mulled over on and off ever since Floss had said that ruling was their job, I decided to go ahead and try to find out more. I said, very carefully, “Floss, your family might be happy to see you.”

Even as the words came out of my mouth I wasn't sure I was saying something true. I thought of my own family and what my answer would be if someone said this to me. Still, there was something so intriguing about the mystery of Fred and Floss and those parents. And now there was the brother to add to the mix.

Fred winced at my statement, and his follow-me bike crashed to the ground. El Jeffery swung off his unicycle with more grace than any griffin should have been able to master and built a protection around Floss that was almost visible. Lucia said, “Think, Persia. You're in the same position,” which made me wish I'd kept my mouth shut more than anything else had.

But Nicholas said, “It's a fair question, actually.”

Fred sighed, but he agreed. “It actually is, you know.”

Floss growled. Floss glowered. Then Tonio slid an arm around her shoulders. “If you tell them, they all will quit asking. And it might exorcise the demons. Look at me and Major.”

“I don't have another hidey-hole,” Floss muttered. “I lost that.”

That seemed like a sideways statement until I noticed that Tonio was looking straight at Floss. Just looking and breathing deep, calming breaths. He breathed and he waited until Floss blushed and stared at her toes. Then he said, “We all lost it. And it wasn't our fault. But we also all knew where we stood and
we dealt with it together.”

“Maybe I don't want to deal with it together.”

“Does it affect our work here? Our existence?” That was Max.

Floss turned her eyes on him and stayed that way for a long time. The rest of us seemed to hold our collective breaths. When she said, “It might. Possibly,” the words seemed to be dragged out of her throat.

“Maybe we all need to sit down and chat,” Fred said in a soft voice, and Floss sighed one more long breath and nodded.

“So,” Floss finished in a swirl of understatement, “it becomes complicated.”

I nodded because she was completely right.

Tonio said, “Not so much like Major after all.”

“Much more internal,” Max agreed. “Bigger and smaller at the same time.”

What more could we say? Quiet covered us like a soft, wooly blanket. Until El Jeffery, like a savior, said, “Do you need music for this production? Because, fetching as I am in ankle skirts of variegated
hues, I think my talents would be better employed in providing the musical theme.”

Floss grinned. “And what would that be?”

“What would the production be?” he asked. “If someone can answer that I think we might start to coalesce.”

Tonio coughed just enough to make us all look in his direction. “I keep turning the old fairy tales around and around. They've worked for us before, and here it should be a slam dunk. What if we did something with Mr. Fox? You know. The bold bridegroom, the doomed brides. It could become an allegory. Mr. Fox is the ruling class. The brides are commoners who keep losing to the ruler. Then the one bride who can beat him comes along and ends up victorious. And the ruling class tumbles.”

“Ouch,” said Fred.

“Hmm,” said Floss.

“Maybe,” said El Jeffery.

“How do we do it?” I asked.

“The silver road glowing in the moonlight,” Nicholas said. “I could rig lights to make a road that sort of fades into the distance.”

“Mr. Fox brings his newest bride to the house on a bicycle,” sang Max.

“He lights the way with a lantern hanging from the handlebars,” said Nicholas.

“Dead wife puppets,” said Floss, getting into the spirit of the thing. “I can do that. Glow in the dark.”

“The wife is in white,” said Lucia. “She unicycles everywhere until she meets him, and then she's tamed to a bicycle.”

“There are your ankle skirts, Floss,” said El Jeffery, while Tonio repeated, “‘Tamed to a bicycle.' Nice phrase for a crackdown by the ruling class.”

“And the house,” I said. “The house can open and close like a giant book. A puppet-book house.”

Fred shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. El Jeffery patted him on the arm with little pancake paw pats. But Floss said, “Let's try it. Let's see what happens.” She looked at Fred. “It might be exactly what we've been looking for.”

“It's a little more in-your-face than I was after,” Fred said carefully.

“Sometimes it has to be,” she said. “Anyway, they'll
probably never even know.”