R. Anderson - Wayfarer

Linden’s head reeled, and she clutched at the bars of her cage. She had trusted Rob, believed in him-and he had done this? Had he sent them to look for the Stone of Naming on the Empress’s behalf, so that she could extinguish all hope of resistance to her power? If so, it was a good thing that Linden had not admitted to finding the Children, let alone getting the Stone from them. As far as the Empress and even Rob knew, their mission had failed….

You mean it hasn’t? said a cynical voice in her head that sounded painfully like Timothy, and Linden buried her face in her hands. It was true: All her efforts to save the Oakenfolk had been futile. Rob had proved a traitor, and Garan a coward. Even the Stone in her pocket was useless, for the secret rebellion against the Empress was no secret at all, and soon it would be stamped out.

Oh, Great Gardener, she wept brokenly. Help me, please-I’m so afraid, and I don’t know what to do.

But even as she prayed, Rob strummed his guitar, while the Empress tapped her fingers and smiled. And in all the whispering echoes of that once holy place, Linden could hear no answer.

Veronica crouched in front of Timothy, one slim hand bringing up his chin. She inspected his nose where the door had struck it and said, “How fragile you humans are. Is that blood?”

“Linden,” said Timothy thickly, pulling away. “Where is she?”

“With the Empress, of course,” Veronica told him. “And Rob is with them, too-you remember Rob, I am sure?”

He shrugged, not wanting her to guess how much he knew, or cared. But his spirit leaped at the news. The Empress had only to turn her back for an instant, and Linden could slip Rob the Stone….

“It is a shame you didn’t let me take your music at the beginning,” Veronica went on, stroking his hair back from his face. “It would have made everything so much easier.”

Timothy clenched his hands. He could feel the calluses on his fingertips, earned from countless hours of practice; he wanted suddenly, and very badly, to play again.

“I could bring you a guitar,” she murmured, as though she had read his mind. “Remember the way you played for me, the first night we met?”

He remembered it vividly, for all that he’d spent the last couple of days trying not to. In spite of everything he knew about Veronica, he couldn’t forget how it had felt to play with her by his side. Before she’d pushed him, he’d been a pretty good guitarist for his age, but that night he’d been a prodigy, a genius.

“The Empress doesn’t want your music,” she went on in the same soft, enticing tone. “Why should she, with the finest musician in all Faery as her favorite? But I-”

Timothy frowned. “You mean Rob?”

Veronica’s lips pursed irritably. “Of course I do. Who else? But he can play as well as he likes, whenever he pleases; somehow the Empress gave him that power. Whereas you and I…” Her fingers traced the shape of his ear. “We need to work together.”

Rob, the Empress’s favorite? With a permanent gift of music no other faery possessed? Dread curdled in Timothy’s stomach, but Veronica was still speaking:

“What if we were to make a bargain, you and I? You see, I can’t take your music just now: It’s buried inside you, too deep for me to reach. I need to see the way your fingers move upon the strings, hear you play the melodies that belong to you alone, before I can touch your gift and make it shine. So…”

Her fingers drifted down the bridge of Timothy’s bruised nose. “I will bring you a guitar,” she continued, “and you will play it for me. It will be a performance such as you dreamt of last night, one that could not be surpassed if you lived a thousand years. And then, when I take your music, you will be grateful.”

“Sounds terrific,” said Timothy sardonically. “And once you’ve taken it, how long will it last you? A few days? A week?”

She shrugged, unfazed. “Better than never being able to play at all.”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Timothy told her. “Because you know what? That’s what I think, too. Almost anything would be better than not being able to play. So if that’s your idea of a bargain -”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes widened in an unconvincing attempt at innocence. “That was only your part of it. I haven’t even told you mine. First, I take your music…”

She stopped and glanced back at the door, her expression furtive. “And then?” Timothy prompted.

Veronica leaned toward him until her lips almost brushed his ear. She whispered: “And then I’ll let you go.”

“I have been thinking, Linden of the Oak,” said the Empress, rising from her throne and walking back toward the cage. “Misguided though your attitude to humans may be, you have shown such loyalty toward your fellow faeries as I have seldom seen. You have endured much hardship on your people’s account, with little prospect of reward, and I find that admirable. So…I will make you an offer.”

“Offer?” Linden scrubbed at her burning eyes. “What kind of offer?”

“It is this: If you consent to my terms, I will allow your people to continue living in the Oak as long as it pleases them to do so. I will even send some of my own servants to increase your numbers and make you strong. Your lost magic will be restored, and you will have everything you desire…on three conditions.”

She trailed her fingers around the edge of Linden’s cage, spinning it gently as she talked. “One: The Oakenfolk will all swear fealty to me by each giving me one drop of her blood. Two: You will no longer associate with humans. You will not linger in their company, nor aid them, nor befriend them; none of you will ever again look upon a human with love, nor take a human child and raise it as your own, but will remain true to your own kind. And three: Every faery infant born within the Oak must be brought to me within her first few years of life, that I may assure myself of your children’s loyalty just as I am assured of yours.” She stopped the cage and looked at Linden questioningly. “Is that not generous?”

Linden felt as though her chest was being squeezed between two giant fingers. Her breath came quick and shallow, and a rushing noise filled her ears. Everything the Oakenfolk needed…She had never dreamed the Empress would make such an offer. Of course the terms were not ideal, but if every other hope was gone…She put her head in her hands, overwhelmed. Could she really afford to say no?

“Perhaps you doubt my goodwill,” the Empress said. “But consider: Have I ever done you any real harm? I commanded the Blackwings to capture you, not to kill you, and even the fire I kindled beneath your cage was only illusion-meant to frighten you into telling me the truth, no more. The human boy I have locked away for safekeeping, but…”

“Timothy!” Linden burst out. “Please don’t hurt him. This was all my doing, he doesn’t deserve-”

“Of course not,” said the Empress in a soothing tone. “I assure you, he is unharmed; no one has so much as spoken a harsh word to him. All I wish is to remove his memories of the past few days, so that he cannot betray the secrets of our people. Then I will set him free…just as soon as you accept my terms.”

Linden let out her breath. That didn’t sound too bad. Perhaps Timothy would be happier not remembering Sanctuary, or Veronica, or the dangers and hardships that had followed. And it would be a small price to pay if she could go back to Queen Valerian bringing good news of the Oakenfolk’s deliverance. Surely even Knife would understand….

Knife.

The image of her foster mother flashed through Linden’s mind, and at once she realized how foolish her temptation to give in to the Empress had been. Knife had dared to love a human, and give up her faery heritage for his sake: Her very existence was a denial of the Empress’s creed, and all the Oakenfolk knew it. The only way the Empress could respond to such a threat would be to tear Knife and Paul apart, or else kill them both….