The Rival (25 page)

She walked past the Domicile.  There were lights in the west wing, and the scent of food magick about the building.  She had heard that some of the younger Domestics had taken to making sumptuous feasts for the remaining Fey, as a way of keeping life in Shadowlands from becoming too dull.

She shuddered.  It already sounded dull to her.

On the far side of the Domicile, she glanced at the woodpile.  Except for the cut wood, it was empty.  In most campaigns, the Red Caps slept beside the Domicile or in the woodpiles. They were short, squat, magickless Fey who usually took care of the dead.  They had no use in peacetime, and were probably driven out of Shadowlands.  If it weren't for their Fey features, they would have had no trouble blending in with the Islander society.

As it were, they were probably pariahs to the Islanders as well.

The steps to Rugar's old place looked the same, but the porch had been fixed.  Two chairs were built into the wood, chairs with no backs, perfect for Wisps and their wings.

Gift had built them.  He did such things, honoring his adoptive parents.  Wind and Niche had taken him in on Rugar's request after Rugar kidnapped the boy.  They raised him as their own  —  Wisps couldn't have children  —  and Niche nearly gave her life for him.

Solanda had felt that sort of devotion for Arianna, and look where it had gotten her.

She sighed, shoved the ache down, and knocked.

The sound echoed through Shadowlands, a hollow empty echo, as if it bounced off the walls of a box.  She supposed it did.  Shadowlands, when it came down to it, was nothing more than a box, a construct built by a Visionary to house his people during a campaign.

She knocked again.

This time, the door opened.  Wind peered out, looking sleep rumpled.  His eyebrows were messy, and there were fabric lines on his face.  He blinked twice before he really seemed to see her.

"Solanda?"  He pulled the door open.  "Come in."

He didn't even ask what it was about.  Such trust in Shadowlands.  She mentally shook her head, and walked through the open door.

Into a main room that used to have only bare bones furniture: a table, a few chairs, and a fireplace.  This room was transformed.  The walls were covered with Domestic-made quilts.  Most had a simple diamond design and were Spelled for ease and relaxation.  But one, the largest, had an embroidered center, depicting Gift as a boy, and strands of light running from him to all the corners of Shadowlands, and beyond.

"The Shaman did that," Wind said.  His wings were folded flat against his back, indicating how soundly he had been asleep.

"The Shaman?"

Wind smiled.  "We forget sometimes that hers is a Domestic magick."

Solanda had forgotten.  "What does it signify?"

"It is for Gift," Wind said, "as a thank-you and as a remembrance of the service he performed as a child."

"And as a warning?" Solanda asked.  She peered at the light strands.  They went far beyond the walls of the embroidered Shadowlands, all the way off the edges of the quilt.

"I doubt it," Wind said.  "People do not give presents as warnings."

"Even the Shaman?" Solanda asked.

"What's this talk of the Shaman?" Niche came out of one of the side bedrooms.  Time had not treated her well.  Her once beautiful features had crumpled in on themselves, her face lined with pain.  Wisps had hollow bones, which enabled them to change sizes and to fly, but the bones were fragile.  Niche's wings had been shattered years ago, and so had one of her wrists.  The Healers had been able to mend her wrist well enough for her to use it, but her wings were crumbled, useless appendages against her back. They looked more like ripped and poorly mended gauze than like wings.

Solanda had trouble looking at her.  "I had never seen the quilt before."

"It's the only possession my son claims," Niche said.  "The rest, he says, are simply things."  She too had a deep-sleep look.  Her long hair was bound around her skull and strands fell down about the side of her face.

"I didn't mean to wake you, but it's important that I talk to Gift.  Where is he?" Solanda asked.

Niche glanced at Wind.

"What happened?" Wind asked.  His voice was tight. 

Solanda made herself smile, as if to reassure them.  "A lot has happened.  It's been a long day."

"No," Wind said.  "What happened to Gift?  You were at the palace, weren't you?  Isn't that why you're here?"

Solanda turned and put a hand on one of the upholstered chairs.  Immediately she felt the urge to sit.  Domestic-spelled again.  She pulled her hand off.

"I'm here because I want to talk to Gift," she said.

"He's not back yet," Niche said.  She came forward, hunched slightly, as if the weight of her injured wings was almost too much for her to bear.  "He wasn't sure when he'd be back."

"From the palace," Solanda said.  It was more a statement than a question. 

"Yes," Niche said.  She sank into a backless chair, still leaning forward as if afraid to brush her wings on anything.  'something went wrong, didn't it?"

"I don't know," Solanda said.  "I don't know where Gift is."

"And you want us to tell you where to find him," Wind said.

"That would be helpful," Solanda said.

"Why?"  Niche was frowning.  "You haven't come into the Shadowlands in years.  You haven't had any interest in your own people."

"Arianna is my people, more than you folks are."  The words came out harshly. Solanda drew in breath, as if she could draw the words back into herself. 

"So she does Shift, then," Wind said.  His expression remained bland, as if her words hadn't offended him.

Solanda nodded.  She felt uncomfortable, as if she had just revealed a fact someone else had wanted to remain secret.  Finally she had enough.  She served no one but herself.  The only member of the Black Family whom she had an obligation to was Arianna, and technically Arianna had discharged Solanda of it. 

Solanda was doing this for herself.  And she needed to know what Gift was about.  If they didn't know where Gift was, they still might be able to help him.

"Look, Arianna almost attacked her brother this afternoon.  She had no idea who he was.  She thought he was kidnapping the golem, and she's quite protective of that creature."

"She attacked him?"  Niche closed her eyes.

"No.  We stopped it in time.  She didn't know.  She thinks  —  thought —  the golem was her blood kin."

"You let her think that?" Wind asked.

"I don't need your judgement," Solanda said.  "You haven't lived outside of here.  You've hidden for fifteen years."

"And raised the Black King's great-grandson," Wind said quietly.

"Well, I raised his great-granddaughter," Solanda said, "and for reasons that have nothing to do with you, I chose not to inform her of Gift.  The golem has a life of its own, and she loves it.  It saved her life more than once.  That's the purpose of a golem, isn't it, to guard its main love?"

"That's one of the purposes," Wind said.

Solanda glared at him.  She didn't know how he could be so calmly confident.  He was facing one of his betters.  Maybe raising a Black child had made him feel as if he were superior to her.  In either case, she had to take the upper hand.

"I need to find out why Gift was taking the golem," she said.

"Why?"

"It's not your concern," Solanda said.  She wasn't going to justify herself to these people any longer.  "Just tell me."

Niche glanced at Wind.  He crossed his arms.

"It won't hurt," Niche said softly.  "You can tell."

"If this information harms my boy in some way — " Wind began.

"You think I'm fool enough to harm an heir to the Black Throne?" Solanda asked.

"You did before," Wind said. 

Niche frowned.  "Wind … "

"All right," he said.  "Gift believed that the golem's life was in danger."

"He knew about the golem?"

Niche nodded.  "We were the ones who left it.  I didn't think it survived until Gift told me, about the time Jewel died."

"He was worried for its life?" Solanda asked.  "Why?"

"He knew it and loved it," Niche said.

"If your golem has to choose between Gift and the girl," Wind said, "it might not choose the girl."

Solanda decided to ignore that statement.  "Today Sebastian was supposed to attend a coming of age ceremony, designating him the next King of Blue Isle.  If Gift has ridden a Link, he would have known about that."

Niche stood.  She put a hand on the wall to keep her balance.  Solanda hadn't realized how much Wisps relied on their wings.

"You believe that Gift would step in for the golem in order to rule the Isle?"

"I don't know," Solanda said.  "That seems logical to me."

"You lived among the Islanders too long.  Gift is Fey."

"Gift is part Fey," Solanda said, trying to ignore the irony of being on the other side of the conversation about heritage. 

"He doesn't care about Islander power," Niche said.  "He has never cared about power.  You make him sound like Rugar."

"He's a member of the Black Family."

"Are you saying the girl would do this?"

Solanda shook her head.  She had forgotten about the hatred lesser Fey felt toward her kind.  "I am trying to figure out why he appeared at the palace on today of all days.  He had years to show up.  Why now?"

"Oh."  Niche breathed the word.  She looked at Wind.  "Solanda is a guest," she said as if they hadn't had any discussion at all.  "Make us some morning root tea, and see if any of the black bread is left, would you please, Wind?"

He frowned, but left the room as she asked.  They had apparently moved the cooking area to a different room.  It hardly felt like the same place it had been when Rugar lived there.

"You're worried about Arianna, aren't you?" Niche said as Wind left.

"I want to find out  — "

"I know," Niche spoke softly.  "I know what you want.  I'm more concerned with why.  You act like a mother afraid for her child."

Solanda's hands started to shake.  The sympathy was almost more than she could bear.

"I sent Wind away.  Sometimes he forgets that people change."

Solanda let the remark pass.  She knew that Wind had never liked her mostly because of what she was. 

Niche leaned close.  "Gift had a Vision which scared him.  He first had it about two weeks ago, and it hasn't gone away.  He went to see the Shaman and she could give him no answers, so he decided to act."

Solanda sat beside Niche. "What was the Vision?"

"He had two, actually.  In one, he was talking to an older Fey, a man he didn't recognize, and several others came into the room.  Everything went black.  That wouldn't have alarmed him if it weren't for the companion Vision.  In that, the golem is talking to the older Fey, several other Fey come into the room, and one stabs the golem, killing him.  Gift believes this all happens in the palace."

"And the Shaman couldn't help?"  Solanda was suddenly cold.

"She says that Gift faces a split path, and that some action will cause that path to change."

"But she didn't know what caused the Vision in the first place?" Solanda asked.

Niche shook her head.  "Obviously something changed two weeks ago.  Something important."

"Obviously," Solanda said.  She looked up to find Wind watching her from the doorway.  He was holding a tray.  When she looked at him, he came in as if he hadn't been eavesdropping.  "Who were the Fey in his Vision?"

Niche shook her head.  "He didn't say."

"Why didn't he go to them?" Solanda asked.

"He didn't recognize them," Wind said.  He set the tray on a small table near the wall.  Then he handed Solanda a cup of tea as if he hadn't been angry at her earlier.  "He says that happens in Visions sometimes."

"But it sounds as if he would have gotten a good look at them," Solanda said.

"The Fey didn't concern him so much as the murder," Niche said.  "He wanted the golem out of the palace immediately."

"So he felt this would happen soon?"

"He said the golem looked like him, as if he were looking in a mirror," Niche said.  "He thought it might happen at any moment."

"Are you sure he was trying to save Sebastian?  Or to make sure the golem was still alive to take his place?"

"Gift isn't like that," Wind said. 

"So you say," Solanda said.  "But I have nothing to base it on."

"Except my word," Wind said.

"The word of a Wisp," she said.

Niche brought her head up.  "In his own home.  About his own son.  You are out of line, Solanda."

"No," she said.  "I'm not.  I want to know all about this Vision, and I want to know why it led Gift to take such a risk. Visionaries do not often go to the site of their deaths in order to prevent that death."

"It wasn't his death he was worried about," Niche said.  "He said he was prepared."

"No one is prepared," Solanda said.  She remembered the discussions she had with Nicholas, about all the ways Jewel tried to prevent her own injury, when instead each action she took made that Vision darker, and made the injury become her death.

Niche took a cup and held it between her slender fingers.  "But you thought Gift was here."

Solanda nodded.

"He left then?  With the golem?"

"Arianna prevented that.  She chased him, and his contingent, and we had to separate her from him.  Then he left.  He never came back."

"But he didn't come here either."  Niche's voice rose on the last word.  Wind sat beside her and took her hand in his.

Solanda waited. 

"Do you think he's all right?" Niche asked.

"He was when I left him."

"Maybe he has another way to change the Vision," Wind said.

"Maybe," Solanda said.  "But something bothers me.  Gift knows all the Fey on the Isle, doesn't he?"

"There might be a few Outsiders … " Wind said.

Niche shook her head.  "He knows all of them."

"So who were the Fey in the Vision?  And why were they in the palace?  And how would it happen soon?"  Solanda stood.  She hadn't touched her tea.  "If it hasn't already happened."