Dreamseeker's Road (35 page)

And then Alec heard a distant jingling-tinkle as of a thousand crystal bells, and saw a file of gold-toned lights winking among the trunks and branches to his right. In spite of himself, he strained forward. He'd seen the Sidhe riding before, of course, but never at night, and never on one of their “official” Rades. Only David had seen that. “Wow!” Aikin breathed beside him, which was as good a response as any.

“I agree,” David said, glancing back, his face full of joyful anticipation Alec had seen far too rarely of late. And then the first rider cleared the trees and entered the open place before them.

Alec didn't recognize the man—no reason he should; he knew maybe ten people from Tir-Nan-Og well enough to have any sense of them as individuals. This guy, however, was impressive. For a start, his horse was blinding white—almost transparent yet almost silver—and he also wore white, though not the armor Nuada favored (and this fellow had two good arms, bare to the shoulders save for a pair of silver bracelets); rather, he sported a simple tabard belted at the waist and hanging fore and aft, to expose his bare legs and feet to the hip. He was young, too, and beardless (but most Sidhe looked young, and few affected whiskers), and his hair was as white as his garment.
Albino,
Alec assumed, until the Faery glanced toward them and Alec glimpsed his emerald eyes.

The youth frowned, but paced his horse into the precise center of what Alec now saw was the intersection of the golden Track they'd been following with another, which the host of the High King of Tir-Nan-Og trod. “Hear me, all who ride the Tracks,” the Faery cried. “Hear me, and know that for this time I bear no name but Light, and Light it is that leaves the World for six-moons' span this night. This do I proclaim from this crossroads, and all crossings we meet on our journey. This do I proclaim in the name of Lugh Samildinach, High King of Tir-Nan-Og, of whom only Night, Death, and Eternity are greater Kings.”

“And this do we hear and acknowledge,” the Morrigu called back.

The youth—Light—stared at her fixedly, then shrugged and seemed to relax a tad, as the rest of the host crowded up behind.

First came a phalanx of Lugh's knights, silver-armored under white velvet surcoats blazoned with his device: a golden sun-in-splendor. Behind them showed faces Alec knew. Oisin was the first he recognized: the ancient mortal granted immortality too late to save him from old age and the blindness that turned his eyes to silver. He it was who was Lugh's seer. Next he noted Nuada: blond, gilt-haired, and handsomely grim in his silver scale armor that contrasted deliberately with the silver hand that was part of him.

And Lugh: dressed in white like the others, but—for the first time Alec had ever seen him so—bare-chested, the sweeps of his black mustache almost fouling his arching collarbones; black hair unbound and flowing past his shoulders. In fact, when Alec got a better look, he wore only a loincloth. Doubtless there was some obscure symbology there, but before he could puzzle one out, he saw the woman who rode beside Lugh—and did a double take; for, eschewing her elaborate white gown and gold-lined cloak, she was the image of Rigantana, who flanked the Morrigu at the head of their own party. Sisters they looked, even twins, though this lady, by her crown, was surely the troublesome Rhiannon.

Which meant—

Alec swallowed hard, as rage awoke within him. That woman sitting there so placidly had sent him false visions, led him into another World, lied to him, deceived him, stolen from him—and bedded him in disguise! He owed her a thousand insults, a thousand demands for justice.

David evidently sensed his anger, too, and divined his thoughts. “Easy, man,” he murmured. “This isn't our game; go with the flow.”

Light turned to face them, slender and straight on his white horse. “Who is it that meets Lugh's riding? Know you not that two hosts alone may travel the Tracks tonight; and the more Seelie of them is here?”

“Yet we
are
here,” the Morrigu countered steadily, pacing her horse a step nearer her challenger. “We ride not by choice nor in defiance, but from necessity—and as for that other of whom you spoke: he should not trouble us.”

Lugh's eyes narrowed as he urged his mount to the fore. He looked, Alec thought, exceedingly pissed.

Rhiannon (if that's who she was) simply looked mondo uneasy—save when her gaze fell on Rigantana, when she looked as though she could spit swords.

Lugh had reached the head of the line by then, and eased his mount between two of his vanguard. His gaze swept the Morrigu and her company imperiously, yet his words were mild:

“We were wondering where you were, Lady,” he said. “You also seem to have acquired a retinue I do not recall you possessing—of which I am not certain I approve, given that I ordered the Borders closed 'twixt my realm and the Lands of Men.”

“Sometimes one must disregard one's lord,” the Morrigu replied stiffly. “If there is punishment due, I will bear it, but first you should hear my errand.”

“Ride with us then,” Lugh invited. “Such is your right, and for tonight, I extend that grace to your companions—though of course the Lady Rigantana does not need it.”

Rigantana inclined her head solemnly.

“So,” Lugh persisted, “will you join us?”

“No,” the Morrigu told him flatly, with not so much as a single shake of her head. “Tonight I have other business, myself and these mortals here.”

“And what might that business be?” Nuada wondered.

“The most important is to ask the High King if he knows of a traitor in his midst.”

Lugh's black brows lifted as one. “And who might this traitor be?”

“Her name is Rhiannon, and she is queen, for this time, in Ys.”

Rhiannon's response was to stare coldly at the Morrigu—though once, Alec was certain, her gaze flicked back to him, and a secret, spiteful smile curved her lips.

“These are hard charges for one queen to make of another,” Lugh observed. “Yet you are one I trust; and it seems we may not proceed unless I hear you out.”

“The way of my statement is this,” the Morrigu began, and set out a brief, detailed account of Alec's aborted rescue of the false Aife. Alec wondered how she'd learned so much, given that she'd been absent when he'd told his tale. Probably directly from Rigantana's mind, he decided.
Hopefully.

Lugh heard her quietly, but his face grew darker by the moment. “Lady Rhiannon,” he snapped when she had finished, “would you join me?”

Rhiannon scowled, but did as commanded. Alec noticed that the guards suddenly looked much more vigilant and intense. A pair rode past Light and turned, effectively blocking further progress down the Track. Two others moved to close off the Track Alec's company rode, where it continued beyond the crossroads, while yet another set flanked Rigantana and the Morrigu. Clearly they were taking no chances in what might well be an explosive situation.

“Well, Lady,” Lugh said, when Rhiannon sat beside him, gazing not at him, but at some unseen vista beyond any of their heads, “you have heard these accusations, and while the courtesy due a guest and fellow monarch forbids wresting the truth from your thoughts, courtesy likewise forbids you to lie to one who this last quarter has been your host.”

Rhiannon did not reply.

“Silence is no answer,” Rigantana called. “I know you mean well, but you have dishonored our House without seeking the honorable solution which was available to you.”

“And what might that be?” Rhiannon sneered. “Assuming that I chose any solution at all.”

“You could have
asked
!” Rigantana shot back. “Instead, you sent false dreams to this mortal and tortured him as surely as if you have set hot knives against his flesh.”

“Do you
have
this object?” Lugh demanded, dark eyes flashing. “Did you commit this treachery of which you are accused?”

“Did you ever have this object,” Nuada added pointedly.

“She did,” another voice broke in: high and wavery like that of an old man. Alec had to strain to make out the words, but knew that they came from the old blind man, Oisin, who was Lugh's seer. “The past is free for all to gaze upon who have the art,” Oisin went on, “and though I cannot always see what I would when I choose to turn my inner eye there, yet it has shown me this lad asleep in a certain tower, and a woman beside him, who one moment wears the face of Aife and the next that of the Queen of Ys. I have seen her rise in the latter shape and steal the oracular stone. And in spite of her concern for the World Walls, I have seen her rip them asunder and leave the lad in his own World, naked on a cold hillside.”

“Oisin never lies,” Nuada said. “All in Faerie know that.”

“He is a mortal,” Rhiannon challenged promptly. “Mortals do naught
but
lie.”

“So do Faeries,” Alec spat, unable to control himself. “You sure as hell lied to
me
,
you bitch!”

Lugh cocked a brow as though in amusement, then frowned again—at Rhiannon. “We may not search your mind, Lady, but there are those here who could certainly search your body, and my knights can search your mount and retinue and possessions. Therefore, I ask again: do you have this thing?”

“I do not,” Rhiannon answered tautly.

“Then she has already sent it to the coast,” Rigantana groaned. “We have ridden away from it.”

Lugh studied Rhiannon perplexedly. “I
thought
your escort was smaller than when you arrived. Obviously they have taken this thing and fled, but my knights are faster than yours, and will overtake them.”

“They'd better,” Alec inserted edgily. “Or they could be in trouble.”

“How so, young wizard?” From Lugh.

“Don't call me that!” Alec grumbled, more rudely than he'd intended. “But what I meant was that it has to be treated a particular way—like, if you don't feed it the blood of a large animal every so often, it'll go mad.”

Lugh looked sharply at Rhiannon. “Did you know this?”

Rhiannon's response was to glare at Alec as though he were more loathsome than a slug.

Alec matched her glare. “I
would
have given it to you,” he said quietly. “Lent it, anyway. I don't like doing that kind of thing, but if our folks are causing problems in Faerie, it's our job to try to set 'em straight. Obviously we can't do much, but we
could've
stopped using the ulunsuti to make gates, and we—that is, I—would've tried to help with the refugee thing.”

Lugh regarded him steadily. “For good or ill, you have been wronged by a guest in my land; the onus of compensation, therefore, falls on me. My knights will surely recover this talisman, but
if
they do not, do you seek further redress?”

Alec shook his head. But then a thought occurred to him—rash perhaps, but what did he have to lose? “Aife,” he whispered. “If she's not in her tower, where is she?”

Lugh nodded solemnly. “It is what I thought you would ask, and the answer is this: Aife is kin to the Queen of Ys—which explains her likeness to Rhiannon and Rigantana—and likewise to one of the Morrigu's favorite disguises. But since I did not entirely trust Rhiannon's intentions—for well you know what has befallen when other Faery rulers have challenged my judgments—I thought it best that Aife be moved to a place closer to hand, for which reason I changed her into an enfield, such as those I keep about my court—in which guise, I am sorry to say, she escaped a few days past.”

“And let me guess,” David broke in. “She found her way onto the Tracks and got off in Athens.”

“She was probably searching for you, Alec McLean,” Oisin added.

“Probably,” Nuada agreed. “I think she truly
did
love you—and though the beast-mind would have prevailed, still, it could not obscure strong feelings. She would have sensed your presence as soon as she came into your World, and more clearly in the mind of your friend Aikin. Then—”

Alec wasn't listening. “But…where is she now?” he blurted out.

“On the Tracks,” Aikin sighed. “I found her out at Whitehall and followed her onto the Tracks and then lost her.”

“She disappeared right after we found Aik,” Liz explained. “I noticed her, but wasn't paying
attention
to her. I mean, a
lot
was going on.”

Alec blinked at him stupidly. “But why would she do that? If—if she…loves me, why would she fool around with you?”

“Perhaps because she knew you disliked magic and would not deal with it willingly,” Nuada ventured. “She therefore lured someone onto the Tracks she thought you—or your friends—would pursue. Probably she intended to bring you all to Tir-Nan-Og, where explanations would have been courtesy, if not necessity.”

“Except that she bolted when she saw the little guys,” Aikin broke in. “That was real fear, wasn't it? Animal mind overruling human?”

“Yes,” Nuada acknowledged. “And it is ironic that that, of all Worlds, was the one you entered, for there alone could such shape-shifting as she wrought be accomplished. Something to do with the water, I think: manifesting desire, or some such.”

Aikin eyed him narrowly. “How'd you know about all that?”

Nuada smiled. “You were thinking very loudly indeed.”

“So Aife still walks the Tracks?” Lugh asked at last.

“Minus an ear, I'm afraid,” Aikin admitted. “My fault.”

“Her choice,” Oisin corrected.

“All of which gives me an idea,” Lugh announced, “assuming we can locate this…beast.”

“Is it one like this?” one of the guards asked from where he blocked the continuation of the Morrigu's Track.

Alec started, and had to peer between the Faery women to see, trotting calmly from beneath the guards' horses, a familiar tawny form—looking for all the world like a smug, almost cartoony fox, save for the eagle talons that replaced what should have been vulpine forepaws, and the fact that it was missing an ear. It paused there, facing Light in the center of the crossroads, then peered first at Lugh, then at Alec—where, after a plaintive whistling trill, its gaze rested.