Seanan McGuire - An Artificial Night

It worked just as well on Blind Michael’s guards.There was an embarrassed pause, and the voice said, “No, Lady. But we grow near time to Ride, and I thought …”

“Who said you should think?” she asked. “You’re obviously ill-suited to the task. What breed of fool challenges a lady in her lord’s halls? And I am still his lady until the Ride is done.”

What was she talking about? I remembered Blind Michael’s hands on my hair and cheeks and was suddenly terribly afraid that I already knew.

“My lady, I—”

He’d have been better off keeping silent—it was too late to stop her. I’d heard Evening do the same thing more than once; it impressed me coming from her, and she usually had reason. Acacia was doing it cold, with nothing to fuel her but fear. That took skill. “I’ve half a mind to tell my husband you doubt my right to walk his halls! I’m sure he’ll be charmed to know his guards would even do so much for his safety as guard his lady from his bed! ”

“Please!” The guard was frantic, and even I felt a little sorry for him: I could guess what it would mean to be reported to Blind Michael for something like that. “A thousand apologies!”

There was a pause. When Acacia spoke again her tone was gentler. “Very well. See to it no one else disturbs me; I haven’t a mind to dance these steps more than once a night.”

“Yes, Lady!” I heard the guard scramble away, footsteps fading. Acacia kept me pressed against the wall for several minutes, waiting. No alarms sounded.

When she finally stepped away from the wall, she gave me a look that was full of sorrow. “So you know.”

“Why—”

“Because.” Her sorrow faded, twisting into bitterness. “You’d be a better toy. Come quickly.” She grabbed my hand and started walking again, faster now. The guard was as good as his word, and no one else tried to stop us. The end of the hall was in sight when Acacia broke into a run, dragging me with her. We were almost there. We were almost out.

Fingers snagged in my hair, yanking me to a painful stop. I fell backward, hitting the floor hard, and found myself looking up into the smirking face of the Piskie from the Children’s Hall. She was sitting astride her Centaur mount, one hand wound in his mane; her other hand was still raised, strands of my hair caught between her webbed fingers.

“He said you might try to get away. He said we should watch you special,” she said, and looked to Acacia, eyes cold. “You can’t hurt us. He knows where we are.”

“No,” said Acacia wearily, hands dropping to her sides. “I can’t hurt you.”

“Stupid old hag,” said the Piskie. The Centaur grabbed my hair this time, hauling me to my feet. I winced but didn’t scream. I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction.“These are His halls, not yours. You have no power here.”

“No, I don’t. I gave it up,” said Acacia, and looked at me, expression pleading.

What was I supposed to do? I was already damned. So was she, but I didn’t need to make her suffer. She’d do that on her own. I went limp, not fighting against my captors or pleading for help as Acacia turned and walked away.

“You’re just in time,” said the Piskie. “Now we go.”

“Go?” I asked, bleakly.

The Centaur nodded, giving me a brisk shake for punctuation. “Now we Ride.”

They dragged me through the hall and out the door, into the clearing where I’d made my bargain. About half of Blind Michael’s twisted children were there, milling back and forth under the steady gaze of the Riders. There were other, unchanged children as well, lashed together like cattle. Most of them were crying. The Piskie shoved me into the crowd, and I stumbled, barely managing not to fall. No one seemed to have noticed our arrival; it could have passed for a festival atmosphere if not for the screams.

Riders guarded the edge of the clearing, except for the point where it bordered on a long stone wall. There was a break in the wall, less than twenty feet away; the Piskie and her Centaur mount were cantering toward the front of the clearing, and the other children were ignoring me, caught up in their own private anticipations or terrors.

I started inching backward toward the opening. It was almost time for the Ride to begin. I didn’t know what happened when Blind Michael took his Riders out into the night, and I didn’t want to; Acacia was right. I promised Blind Michael I’d stay in his lands, but I didn’t say anything about sitting idly by while he bound me to his eternal service or took me as his lady. I knew enough to know that if I Rode, I’d belong to him forever, and maybe it was splitting hairs, but the idea of spending all of time with the man just didn’t appeal. All my kids were safe at home, except for Katie, and if Blind Michael still had her, it was too late. There was no one left for me to save but myself. It was better to run away, even if I died in the attempt. At least I’d have tried. At least I’d die a hero.

I kept my hands down, trying to look nonchalant. A few of Blind Michael’s kids would be glad to hurt me, like the Piskie and her Centaur friend, but others might be glad to see someone escape. The wall was only a few feet away. If I could get out of the village, I might be able to reach Acacia’s woods before the Riders knew I was gone. Once I was in the woods, they couldn’t take me. Acacia ruled there. There was still a chance.

Like an idiot, I let myself believe it. Only for an instant … but that was long enough to give me hope. I reached the wall, slid myself into the hole, and got ready to run.

And Blind Michael loomed out of the darkness. For a moment I saw him for what he was: one of the Firstborn, a foundation of Faerie, but still a man. Not a god. Then his illusions slammed into me, and he became the mountains and the sky and the world. I could think about escaping, but much as I wanted to, I couldn’t move. “Now we Ride,” he said.

Oh, root and branch. Oberon help us all.

THREE PALE LADIES WITH EYES AS BLANK AS STONE stepped forward at Blind Michael’s command, dressing me in tatters of green and gold silk and tying tiny chiming bells in my hair.

Their sisters descended on the other children, decking them in rags of gray and white. I gritted my teeth, trying to summon up the strength to move. And I couldn’t find it.

When they were satisfied with their work they lifted me up onto the back of a white mare. Green and gold ribbons were braided through her mane and tail, matching my gown, and she pawed the ground as I settled on her back, trying to step out from underneath me. She looked as terrified as I felt, and I couldn’t blame her. I’m not that familiar with horses, but even I could recognize the horse Katie had become. Her eyes were still too human.

I’m sorry, I thought, wishing I could say the words out loud. I didn’t mean to leave you, but they got me, too. Small comforts are sometimes all we have. She and I would suffer together. Forever.

The older children chosen to accompany us slipped out of the shadows in groups of one and two, dressed in shredded finery that accented the strange twists and curves of their bodies. They crossed the field, finding their horses and mounting in silence. Most of them had obviously done it before. How did they get so strange? What was going to happen to me?

The Centaur trotted over to stand by my horse, the web-fingered Piskie riding sidesaddle on his back. They were still nude, but now had ropes of red and gold silk knotted in their hair.

“Today we Ride,” said the Piskie, pleasantly. “Some of us will be Riders; some will not. Some will only change a little and return to the hall. This will be my fifth Ride.” I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. She seemed to take my silence for fear, because she smiled. “You’ll Ride only once, but He promises us it will hurt.”