Descent into the Depths of the Earth (44 page)

Patting Cinders between the ears, the Justicar watched the
two faerie lords as he refilled the small thimble-cup.

“Did you find him?”

Who?
Benelux jittered in her sheath.
Who? Who?

Lord Nightshade spared the sword a long suffering glance and
turned to the Justicar. “He was found sheltering on a Clan Sable estate in the
middle of Elysium. I believe a full confession will not be necessary.”

Who
was found in Elysium?
Benelux rattled her sheath
in anger.
I say! If we are going to be a partnership, you must allow me into
your confidence! How else can you ben’fit from my wealth of good advice?

“The murderer.” Jus sighed and poured himself an ale. “He was
found in Elysium.”

Benelux jittered.
But… but the murderer was that
wretched girl, the one who tried to unleash that demon! The one who looks like
your partner—only with bigger breasts!

“You can’t murder something that’s already dead.” Lord Faen
decided to risk the beer and took a sip. “The body had been dead for hours
before the cone shell was used. Remember the pooled blood? The unbleeding wound?
No. Tielle wasted her efforts there. Tarquil had been gone for hours.”

The Justicar spared a droll glance down at his sword. “You
found nothing odd in the fact that Tarquil slept peacefully right through a
striptease?”

I know nothing about such things.
The sword gave a prim
little sniff
I suppose it might be possible.

“Escalla dancing half-naked is a pretty good recipe for
waking someone up.” The Justicar drank from his flask. “No. The body had already
been poisoned. Escalla was framed. Tielle’s assassination attempt was simple
coincidence. She wanted to stop Clan Nightshade from returning to the Seelie
Court before she could finish her plans to release the Queen of Wind and Woe.”

Annoyed, Benelux jiggled up and down.
So who killed
Tarquil?

Jus, Lord Faen, and Lord Nightshade all looked at the sword
as though she were an idiot.

“Why, Tarquil did!” said Faen.

There was a long, somewhat smug silence between the three
men. Finally Lord Nightshade helped himself to another beer.

“You see, my dear, Tarquil’s life was hanging on a thread.
Too many vendettas had been declared upon him. It seemed a good idea to lie low.
His uncle, Lord Ushan, wanted the alliance with Clan Nightshade stopped, so they
concocted this little affair. They cloned Tarquil and killed the copy, hoping to
frame Escalla for Tarquil’s murder. In a few years, Tarquil would have
reappeared claiming to be a clone, inherited his own estates, but still would
not have been legally responsible for the deaths his previous self had caused in
duels.” Escalla’s father brimmed with richly deserved satisfaction. “A horrible
scandal if it should come out. Clan Sable is therefore giving us foil support
for our return to the Seelie Court, as well as abandoning a few strategic
offices to other, wiser heads…”

Benelux hummed and hawed.
But what of Tarquil? He planned
to frame Escalla. Surely some sort of justice must be done?

“Ah.” Faen stroked at his goatee. “Well, we wondered about
that. Unfortunately, someone broke into his prison, polymorphed him into a
mouse, and punted him though a faerie gate that leads to the beast kingdom of
cats. He was last seen in a scrying spell, running like a champion!” Faen
scowled. “Which reminds me. Where was your daughter last night, Lord
Nightshade?”

“I have two daughters,” Charn replied innocently. “Which one
do you mean?”

“Why, Escalla, of course, the one still in solid form.”

“Safely at her prayers, Lord Faen.”

“Ah, quite so.” The goateed faerie smiled knowingly.

Tielle had been carried off in a bucket to be imprisoned by the Seelie Court.
She was alive but was going through some bad days.

Lolth had lost her current body on this plane, and it would
take months for her to make another, by which time her hangover might even have
gone. Certainly the Nightshade key would have been re-hidden by then. All’s well
that ends well.

Jus corked his drinking flask and said, “I must insist you
abandon your plans to force Escalla into marriage. She served the court well.
She deserves her own will in the matter.”

“Oh yes, of course. Our stock is rather high in court right
now.” Nightshade gave a genial smile. “The Erlking thinks rather highly of us.
My wife’s claws are clipped. Life will be a bit more… effervescent from now
on.”

“You will be returning to the Seelie Court?”

“In a sense. The Seelie Court is coming out of retirement.
There will be more faeries wandering the worlds from this point on.” Nightshade
looked at Faen, and both men shared a nod. “Though cautiously at first.”

Lord Nightshade stood, his hands in his back as he stretched
his wings. Faen joined him, and Jus swept Cinders back across his own shoulders.
Faen fluttered up over the buttercups, where he had a fine view of the ruined
village just below. Enid and Escalla were eating bacon from a frying pan,
Escalla laughing and beautiful with her hair bright golden in the sun.

Lord Nightshade watched his daughter with a rueful little
smile.

“Escalla will not be returning to the court.” Charn looked at
the Justicar and shrugged. “What was this place she wants to see?
Hogwart?”

“Hommlet, my lord.” The Justicar gave a bow. “And then
horizons far beyond.”

“Then we shall meet again.” Nightshade took the Justicar’s
hand and pressed it with his own. “You’ll do right. I can tell.”

“Good-bye, my lord.”

“Good-bye, my son.”

Lord Nightshade produced a little box and gave it to the
Justicar—parting gifts to see Jus and Escalla on their way. The two faeries
stood and watched as the big human and his hell hound strode through the
buttercups to where Henry awaited them. Now dressed in faerie-made armor and
bearing a sword made by faerie smiths (along with his deadly crossbow), the boy
ran up to Jus, who clasped him warmly by the shoulder and led him back into the
village.

Enid the sphinx waved a paw back toward the two faerie lords.
Escalla turned and gave a long look at her father, flashed him a strangely
understanding smile, and waved farewell. Side by side, Escalla, the Justicar,
Henry, and Enid marched up the road into the north, with Polk the badger happily
holding their road map upside down.

As the travelers disappeared from view, Lord Faen rested his
hand upon Lord Nightshade’s shoulder.

“Quite a remarkable girl, your eldest daughter. Not quite…
genteel, but a certain lively spark. I believe I shall miss her. I do wish her
well on her travels.”

“I shall miss her, too.” Lord Nightshade heaved a sigh and
plucked himself a buttercup. “Still, she grows and grows. I have such hopes for
her.”

“Yes.” Faen walked side by side with Nightshade as both men
moved back into the forest. “What was that you gave them as parting gifts just
now?”

“Oh, for him, a longevity potion. For her, I thought she
should keep her wedding dress. You never know when a girl might need it.”

“Oh?” Faen led the way beneath a drifting cloud of
thistledown. “Just her dress?”

“And a dozen growth potions—you know, faerie-to-human size.
Plus the recipe. That sort of thing.”

“Oh?” Faen activated a magic gate and seemed a tad puzzled.
“How did you know she wanted that?”

“A little dog told me.”

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