Caroline Spector - Worlds Without End

"You've created quite a stir," she said. "Calling up the Hunt's horses. A most impressive feat. And, from what I understand, only you and Harlequin were present."

"That is correct," I said. "There are those of us… who are of an age… who have found such things to be… within our grasp." I looked around for Caimbeui, surprised to see him hanging back. It was so unlike him.

She stared ahead, leading me toward the back of the hall. I caught the scent of her perfume. A com- plex scent: grasses, sandalwood, and a few other notes of which I couldn't be certain. Elusive.

"And why did you call the Chasse Artu?" she asked.

"I have been away a long time," I said. "I needed to find the Court."

"Yes," she replied. "I thought as much. No other way would have found us so quickly. We have been careful for a while now. But you come to us with the toss of a spell so powerful it would take half my court to cast it. I see some of what I've heard is true."

We had come to the back half of the hall. A great feast was laid out. Row after row of tables were cov- ered with white linen, fine gold eating utensils, and bone china. Garlands of flowers were swagged onto the tablecloths. Most of the tables were filled with members of the Sleagh Meath and Awakened elves.

Invisible hands served and took away platters of food and jugs of wine.

Lady Brane led me to a raised table in the center of all the others. She took a seat and motioned me to take mine next to her. As I sat down, I noticed Caimbeui finding a place down at Alachia's end of the table and I wondered how best to approach the reason for my visit. I didn't know precisely what lies Alachia had spread about me. My cup was filled with wine, and food appeared on my plate. I didn't eat. Couldn't.

Lady Brane, however, was having no such prob- lems. She drank heavily from her cup and tucked away the feast like she'd been starving for a year. All this was done with a grace and delicacy that made it look like the most delightful thing I'd ever witnessed.

"You aren't eating," she said with a little frown. "Is the food not to your liking?"

I pushed a pea with my fork and shook my head. "No, thank you. I'm not hungry. Lady Brane," I said. "I am not a threat to the Seelie Court, nor to you."

She turned and looked at me, her expression un- readable.

"And what makes you think I find you threaten- ing?" she asked.

"I just assumed that you had been told… things," I said. Good, Aina, I thought, stick your foot in it right off.

She picked up a pear and bit into it. I could smell the sweet aroma of it. It took her a few moments to finish off the pear. Daintily, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before speaking again.

"Yes," she said. "I have heard stories. From sev- eral sources. You have not endeared yourself to many of the Elders. But there are other, more pow- erful, voices who seem to value you. So, I decided I should see for myself what sort of creature you are."

"What sort of creature?" I said. "That hardly sounds impartial. Unlike Alachia, the politics of men have little interest for me. But your court deals with matters that do concern me. Magic and mysticism have long been intertwined for our people."

She shrugged. "Perhaps some of what I've heard does concern me," she said. "I am proud of being an elf and I am proud of our Tir. It has come to my at- tention that you have chosen others over your own kind in past disputes."

Alachia's fine Italian hand at work, no doubt.

"Yes," I said. "There was a time when I had to make that painful choice. But there were reasons for my choice and I was not the only one who made that decision. I, too, am proud of my people. But we are not perfect, nor are we always right. I am not blindly devoted to every act. And those matters have no bearing on the dangers before us now."

Lady Brane took a sip from her glass, then swirled the contents around as she stared into them.

"Yes," she said at last. "These dangers. How is it you know of them and the rest of us do not? Are you so special? So powerful?"

Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, / am special. I haven't forgotten why I am here. I haven't forgotten the past. If that makes me special, then so be it. As for power, how could I have survived for almost eight thousand years without it? But of course I said none of this. She would discover in her own time what a curse immortality was.

"Perhaps it would be easier if we were to discuss this in a less public place," I said. "There are some things that should only be spoken of in private."

"You're right," she said. "I was hoping only to come to a quick resolution of this matter."

"That is my most fervent wish," I said.

"Very well," she said. "Come with me. You, Har- lequin, Alachia, and I will discuss this matter."

I rose, and without even a backward glance at Caimbeui, I followed her from the hall. It had been a long time since I'd had to call upon the good graces of my fellow elves. I suspected the reception to what I was about to say would be chilly indeed.

She opens her eyes. Darkness suffocates her, pushing against her like an old lover. Putting her hands up, she feels the smoothness of satin. She pushes, but there is resistance. A hardness under the soft fabric.

A spell. There is light.

This is no kaer. This is a coffin.

And she's been buried alive in it.

Lady Brane motioned for me to sit. The room was an odd mixture of magic, antiques, and hardware. Though I dislike the technology that Caimbeui so adores, even I was impressed with the array of hyper-edged toys. Any shadowrunner would have been drooling at the chance to get his hands on Lady Deigh's high-tech toys.

I didn't sit. Instead I wandered about the room, looking at the collection of elven artifacts. Encased in a glass box was a long silver sword whose hasp was plated in gold and set with cabochon emeralds and rubies. So, this was where the Sword of Nuadha had finally come to rest. I thought it had been lost long ago.

Next to it was a plain cup roughly carved from hom. It should have seemed prosaic, sitting there next to the glory of the sword, but it was the other way round. The Sword of Nuadha seemed coarse and obvious.

I'd just stepped over to a lovely painting of Caimbeui in some costume I didn't recognize when he and Alachia came into the room. Lady Brane smiled at her and she smiled back. My heart sank when I saw this. Already I was at a disadvantage. I could only hope that Caimbeui would provide a strong argument for my position.

"Now that we're all here," began Lady Brane. "Shouldn't we start?"

"You are the only Elders?" I asked, more than a little shocked.

"No, of course not," said Lady Brane. "But the others have agreed to let me handle this situation as I see fit. They have deferred to Lady Alachia and me."

I glanced over at Caimbeui, who kept his face blank. And I wondered if he knew this would be the situation going in.

"Very well," I said. "It's really quite simple. The Horrors have returned."

Alachia let out a silvery laugh that I just knew would enchant any man who heard it and which set my teeth on edge.

"You are still so melodramatic, Aina," she said. "Good heavens. It is far too early for them to have returned."

When I answered and my voice was calm, it surprised me. For as long as I could remember, Alachia had the power to anger me with her flip comments.

"I realize that you are far older than I," I said. "But my experience with what you so blithely refer to as the Enemy is hardly inconsiderable. Even you would have to admit that."

She gave a small nod of her head, the best ac- knowledgment I could hope for.

"Caimbeui came to me the other day and told me of his recent experience with them."

Alachia and Lady Brane looked at him expect- antly, and he preened a bit under the attention. What an ego. But he did manage to tell them about Thayla and the bridge from the astral planes and how he had stopped them.