R. Anderson - Rebel

“So all the other faeries hate us because they think we’re too friendly with humans?” said Wink in bewildered tones, and Thorn remarked acidly, “Now there’s an irony.”

“This Empress…” Campion toyed with her pencil, frowning. “She must be clever as well as powerful, to have so many faeries under her control. I wonder how she managed it? Especially if she’s been avoiding humans all this time, and they’re where our cleverest ideas come from.”

“Well, she hasn’t been avoiding them, obviously,” said Thorn. “Seems to me that she and her people find humans useful enough, or they wouldn’t be living right in the midst of them.”

Linden nodded. “But human beings are just cattle, as far as the Empress and her people are concerned. They’ve become so selfish and proud, they won’t even consider that it’s wrong to deceive humans and take their creativity by force.”

“Yes, but doesn’t it sound as though this Rob you met knew better?” Wink said. “If he went to the trouble of saving you and Timothy…”

“I thought so, too, at first,” Linden replied sadly, “but it turned out he was just hoping I was one of these Children of Rhys he’d been looking for. I don’t think we can count on him to help us again.”

The Council faeries all looked sober at this, and the room fell silent. Timothy waited for someone to come up with another idea or at least a question, but no one did. At last, frustrated, he spoke.

“Don’t tell me you’re all giving up already? All right, so you can’t count on the Empress and her people. But they can’t be the only faeries in the world. What about trying to find the Children of Rhys yourselves?”

“Timothy, I already told you-” began Linden, but Valerian held up her hand.

“No, let him speak; I can see by his face he has more to say, and I would not dismiss his words without hearing them.” She turned to Timothy. “Please, go on.”

“You’re assuming that if Rob couldn’t find the Children, you can’t either,” Timothy said. “But I’m not sure that’s true. You’ve been cut off from the other faeries for hundreds of years, so obviously they know a lot of things about the world that you don’t. But your people seem to know some things that the Empress and her faeries have forgotten, too. Don’t you have any legends or history books or something that might tell you about the Children of Rhys?”

Campion pushed back her chair and rose. “There’s nothing about them in the archives downstairs, I know that much. But perhaps there’s something here…” She began inspecting the bookshelves that lined the room, her head cocked to one side.

“Well thought,” said Valerian, inclining her head to Timothy. “If I had any doubt of Linden’s wisdom in bringing you to us, I have none now. Yet if we can find nothing in the Oak’s records to tell us of the Children, what then?”

There was no mockery in her tone, no condescension; she really seemed to believe he might have an answer, and after a moment’s thought Timothy found that he did.

“Then I’ll sneak back into town,” he said, “and look them up in the library.”

Linden looked at Timothy with surprise: She hadn’t expected him to volunteer his services-especially at such risk to himself. Had he decided to join her on her quest to find more faeries after all?

Thorn made a skeptical noise. “How’s that going to help? You can’t think some human writer is going to know more about our own people than we do?”

Timothy opened his mouth, but Campion spoke first. “Why not?” she said to Thorn. “You’ve never read the human legends about faeries, but I have, and you’d be surprised how often they were right about things we Oakenfolk had muddled up or forgotten. And,” she added with a touch of smugness, “there were male faeries in some of those stories, too.”

“All right, fair enough,” Thorn replied. “But Rob didn’t know how to find these Children either, and he’s been living in the middle of a big human city for years. So if he couldn’t find out anything-”

“Unless,” said Timothy, “he made the same mistake you’re making.”

“Oh, really. And what’s that?”

“Underestimating humans.” Timothy leaned forward across the table, his gray-green eyes intent. “If the Empress and her faeries believe they’re so superior to my people, of course they wouldn’t expect us to have any information that they don’t. And there’s another thing I noticed, though I didn’t think much about it at the time: Rob’s place didn’t have a television or a radio or even a telephone, let alone a computer. He’s probably consulted every faery book he could find, but I’ll bet you anything he’s never searched the internet.”

Thorn looked blank, and Linden was wondering how to explain, when Campion broke in excitedly: “That’s a special sort of library in a box, isn’t it, where you can get information from all over the world. Don’t Knife and Paul have it?”

Timothy looked discomfited, and Linden could guess why: He’d been counting on the faeries’ not knowing that particular detail. How could he explain to them that he’d rather walk all the way to the village and risk being caught by the Empress than go back to the House even for a few minutes?

“Yes, but Timothy can’t return to their place right now,” Linden said. “It would be too easy for the Empress and her people to find him there.”

Wink nodded, but Thorn looked unimpressed. “And you think he’ll be any safer here?” she retorted. “If the Empress’s lot can find Timothy in the House, there’s no reason they can’t find him in the Oak just as easily. Especially with our wards in such a sorry mess.”

Linden gave Timothy an apologetic look. “They’re right, you know.”

“I’m not going back to Oakhaven,” he muttered. “If your people don’t want me here, then I’ll leave-but I’ll just end up buying a ticket to Dover instead.”

Linden could think of nothing to say to that, and there was an awkward silence. At last Valerian rose and addressed Timothy in her calm, measured voice:

“Today you have given us both insight and hope, and for that we are in your debt. You have proven yourself a true friend of the Oak, and if we can do you any service, we will be glad to know of it. Nevertheless, we cannot allow you to remain here.”

Linden began to protest, but Valerian held up a hand.

“You meant well, I know. But think, child. You are exhausted, and the effort of casting so many spells has drained you even further. The moment you fall asleep, the glamour that has made Timothy our size will stop working. And what will become of us all then?”

The blood drained from Linden’s face, and her stomach flopped like a landed minnow. How could she have been so stupid? She’d been prepared to ignore the pain of her headache and keep casting whatever spells that might be necessary to keep Timothy safe, but she couldn’t stay awake forever…

“Indeed,” said Valerian gently. “So please, would you escort our guest to the door?”

“I’ve a better idea,” said Thorn, shoving her own chair back from the table as Linden struggled to rise. “The way she looks, she’ll probably faint halfway down the Spiral Stair, and then just think what a fine mess of owl pellets we’ll be in.” She stalked around the table and kicked the leg of Timothy’s chair. “Get up, human. You’re coming with me.”

Timothy shot Linden a desperate glance. “I can’t go back to Paul and Peri’s.”

“Then don’t,” said Thorn with a shrug. “East or west or down a fox hole, it’s all the same to me. Just as long as it’s out.” She turned to Linden. “I’ll whistle when he’s safely on his way, and you can take the glamour off him. All right?”