R. Anderson - Rebel

“Could I send a few pages to the printer?” he asked. “We’re in a hurry.”

“Please make yourself comfortable,” said Valerian as she ushered Linden and Rob into the Healer’s quarters. She gestured to the sofa, but Rob remained standing, looking around the room with an expression Linden had never seen on his face before: There was wonder in it, and even a hint of envy.

Of course, thought Linden. Compared to the squalid, barely furnished apartment Rob had shown them last night or the shabby disorder of the hostel, Valerian’s rooms must have seemed like paradise. The chairs were not only sturdily built but attractive; Thorn had learned a great deal from studying Paul’s books on design. Wink had taken scraps of fabric from the House and sewn draperies and cushions in serene patterns of blue. Twig-framed pictures of medicinal plants hung on the wall, drawn by Knife with a very fine pen, and by the door a glass jar held dried herbs that Valerian had arranged herself.

“I apologize that I cannot receive you in the Queen’s chambers,” said Valerian, evidently misunderstanding Rob’s reaction. “But her quarters seem to be under dispute at the moment.”

“Yet you have magic,” Rob said as he sat down, “and this Bluebell does not. Why not bend her and her supporters to your will-or at least punish them as their disloyalty deserves? Do you want your subjects to perceive you as weak?”

“I want my people to accept me willingly as their Queen,” replied Valerian, “not bow to my rule out of fear. I may not be able to persuade them all to follow me. But if most of them do, that will suffice.”

“Easily said when your enemies have little power,” countered Rob. “But if your plan to restore the Oakenfolk’s magic succeeds, then they will soon have as much magic as you do. What if they attempt to overthrow you and take the throne by force? Will you not regret your mercy then?”

“Perhaps,” said Valerian, unruffled by Rob’s challenging tone. “But I would rather risk losing my throne than claim it as a tyrant.” She rose from the sofa and opened the window, inviting fresh air into the dusty-smelling room. “You must be parched after your journey; may I bring you a drink of water or some berry wine?”

Rob looked startled. He glanced at Linden, and she could read the question in his eyes: Is this a mockery? Or is your Queen truly offering to serve me?

“You should try the wine,” Linden reassured him. “Queen Valerian makes it herself, and it’s very good.”

“Then I will do so,” said Rob. He took the cup that Valerian handed him and sipped it, then set it aside and said, “But I am not here as an idle visitor. A few moments ago I met the human boy on the road, and what I told him then, I tell you now: You are all in grave danger.”

Valerian caught her breath. “The Empress?”

“Indeed. As I feared, Veronica has gone to her and told all she knows, and now the Empress has sworn to capture Linden and Timothy and make an example of them. She has sent two of her deadliest hunters-the Blackwing brothers, who take the form of ravens-to track them down, and if you do not act quickly, they will find the rest of you as well.”

Valerian’s brow furrowed with anxiety. “Can we not hide the children? Or send them elsewhere to safety?”

Rob shook his head. “There is no safe place for them anywhere. Every faery under the Empress’s rule-and there are hundreds of us scattered throughout this land-knows what Timothy and Linden look like, and we have all been told to report the instant either one of them is seen.”

“How?” Valerian demanded. “How could one faery become powerful enough to control so many?”

“The Empress began her rule long before I was born,” said Rob, “but I know this much. She asked her first followers to share with her a single drop of their blood in token of their loyalty. Then, using an ancient magic, she used that blood to bind them to her service. She sent her servants to recruit other faeries by the same means, and those in turn enlisted more, until all but a few of our people belonged to her-and those who resisted did so at the cost of their lives. So how can any of us stand against her now, when she has tasted our blood and knows all our true names?”

Linden was horrified. To know a faery’s true name was to have absolute power over her, which was why most faeries lived their whole lives and died without ever sharing that secret. To think of the Empress ferreting out those precious names with dark magic, and using them to control faeries like Rob against their will-it made Linden feel sick.

“I have served the Empress all my life,” Rob continued, “but not by choice, and I know others who would also be glad to escape her rule. Still, as long as she holds our names, we dare not rebel openly against her. Yet among the Children of Rhys, it is said, there is a white stone that gives a new name to any faery who holds it. If someone could find that stone and bring it to us, we would be free.”

His musician’s hands spread in a pleading gesture. “For years I have sought the Children of Rhys, but all my attempts to find them have failed. Even if I knew where to look for them, I could not leave the city for more than a few hours without arousing suspicion. But Linden is outside the Empress’s power-”

“And so you would send her out into the world to hunt for the Children of Rhys on your behalf?” said Valerian incredulously. “A girl of fifteen with nothing but glamour to protect her, and these Blackwing brothers pursuing her all the while?” She rose from her chair. “No. This is madness. There must be another way.”

“There is no refuge for Linden here,” insisted Rob. “With the little magic you have, you cannot hold the Oak against the Blackwings, not even for a moment. You must send Linden away if the rest of your people are to survive-and is it not better to send her out with a purpose than with no direction at all?”

“But if Linden leaves us, the Oak will still be at risk,” objected Valerian. “We need her to sustain the glamour that hides our doors and windows from human eyes-her spells may be weak and unpracticed, but they are all the protection we have.”

“I can help you with that,” said Rob. “I have no skill with illusion, but if you close your shutters I can command this tree to grow a fresh layer of bark across them, until only a slit remains. You will have air and a little light, and no human will guess your Oak is inhabited-at least, not so long as you draw your curtains and guard your lamps carefully after nightfall.”

Linden held her breath, watching Valerian. The new Queen’s head was bowed, her eyes shut. At last she said, “Even the Sight cannot counsel me otherwise. I accept your offer. Linden will go.”

Fearful excitement fluttered through Linden. She had another chance to help the Oakenfolk-and now, it seemed, Rob and his people as well.

“Yet one thing still troubles me,” Valerian went on. “If the Blackwings are so swift, so powerful, and so ruthless-how can Linden and Timothy hope to escape them even for a little while, let alone stay ahead of them long enough to find the Children of Rhys?”

“I know!” said Linden. “We can take the train!” After all, it had worked for her and Timothy before, and even the strongest ravens could only fly so fast or so far…

Valerian looked at Rob.

“It is possible,” said Rob. “My people dislike train stations, for the scent of so many humans together is unpleasant to us, and we have our own methods of journeying from one place to another. Most faeries loyal to the Empress would scorn to travel in such a way-and that pride may prove to be their weakness.”

The Queen sighed. “I can only pray that you are right,” she said. “But so be it. Linden, go quickly now and say your farewells, and pack what you need for the journey. As soon as Timothy and Knife return, you must go.” She took Linden by the shoulders and stooped to kiss her brow, adding softly, “And may the Great Gardener watch over you.”