Aprilynne Pike - Illusions

“Salt,” Shar replied, his voice hollow. He didn’t take his eyes off the pouch in his hand. Tamani laughed, but Shar did not.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Look there.”

Tamani looked at the ground where Shar was pointing. The white line of salt Shar had made around himself overlapped a thick arc of dark blue powder that appeared to encircle the entire clearing.

“That’s Mixer’s work,” Shar said, frowning.

“It looks that way, but this is Winter-class enchantment. They’ve hidden half an acre just by drawing a circle around it!”

“Benders don’t use powders,” Shar replied. Tamani suppressed a grimace; referring to Winter faeries as Benders was vulgar even by sentry standards. “The powder makes it a Mixing for sure.”

“Or maybe we’re dealing with a new kind of troll. Laurel hit those trolls with caesafum and they didn’t even blink. Tracking serums don’t work, either. And it seems like Barnes was immune to everything but lead. Specifically, lead shot into his brain.”

Shar ruminated on that. “Maybe. But there have been some very, very strong Mixers in our history.”

“Not outside Avalon. Except the one exile, and she burned, what, forty, fifty years ago?”

“Indeed. I saw it happen with my own eyes. But perhaps an apprentice?” Shar hesitated. “There is the young faerie.”

“I don’t think it’s possible. Even on the off-chance that the Wildflower is a Fall, she’s too young. An Academy-trained Mixer would be a hundred before they could do something like this, never mind a wild one.”

“Anything is possible.”

“So I see,” Tamani said, gesturing at the powder. “Both this blue powder and whatever you did,” he added. “Why salt?”

“Testing a theory,” Shar said. “So far, I’m encouraged by the results.”

Sensing that Shar was not going to say more on the subject, Tamani knelt and examined the blue powder. “Can I have that pouch?”

Wordlessly, Shar dropped the small burlap sack into Tamani’s outstretched hand. Tamani scooped some of the powder onto the blade of his knife and poured it into the pouch. Then, as an afterthought, he used his knife to draw a line in the dirt, breaking the blue circle.

“What are you doing?” asked Shar.

“I’m guessing a broken circle won’t work,” Tamani said. “If the trolls inside didn’t see us, they may not know the circle is broken — but they might find your salt. If we scatter the salt, and cover this break, maybe they won’t notice their lair is exposed.”

“I want this place watched day and night from now on.”

“I’ll need to call reinforcements,” Tamani said, the weight of his weariness bearing down on him as the excitement of discovery waned. He ducked behind a thick tree to turn on his iPhone, wishing the screen didn’t light up quite so brightly. Hoping Aaron remembered how to use the GPS, Tamani sent his location to the other sentry’s phone.

By the time Tamani returned, Shar had eradicated his salt circle and scattered leaves over the break Tamani had made with his knife. There was still no light or sound coming from the cabin, which seemed odd; it wasn’t like trolls to sleep at night.

“Maybe we should just storm the place and get it over with,” said Tamani.

“You’re in no condition for a fight,” said Shar. “Besides, I’d like to keep them under observation for a bit, get a feel for their numbers. For all we know, there are thirty trolls in there, just waiting for us to knock.”

It wasn’t much longer before Tamani heard the telltale whisper of leaves all around him, heralding the arrival of at least ten sentries.

“Can you take it from here?” he asked Shar.

“If you like. Where are you off to?”

Tamani held up Shar’s burlap pouch, then tucked it into his pack. “I have to get this back to Laurel. She may be able to figure out what it is.”

“I hope so,” Shar said, staring at the moonlit cabin.

With that, Tamani turned and ran, his bare feet whispering through the blanket of autumn leaves. He felt like he could have made the run with his eyes closed — as though all paths led to Laurel.

Tamani shook his head, realizing it was starting to swim — blackness encroaching on the edges of his vision. He blinked hard and forced himself to run faster, trying to push away the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe Shar was right — maybe he was spreading himself too thin. After this , he told himself. After I deliver this, I can sleep.

He braced himself against Laurel’s back door and knocked, feeling his eyes close even as she came into sight. She opened the door in wordless surprise and he only managed one step into the kitchen before the ground rushed up to meet him.

LAUREL HAD SET HER ALARM FOR HALF AN HOUR before sunrise so she could go downstairs and check on Tamani, but she was already awake when it sounded. Her whole night had felt more like a restless dream than actual sleep. Once she’d convinced herself he was okay, Laurel draped a blanket over Tamani and went to bed. She considered trying to move him — the kitchen floor didn’t look very comfortable — but in the end, decided to leave him in peace. He’d probably slept on worse out at the land.

Glancing at the mirror and finger-combing her hair a little, Laurel crept downstairs as silently as she could. He was still there — he hadn’t so much as stirred. The morning light was gray and soft, and Laurel tiptoed over to sit where she could see Tamani’s face. It was strange to see him sleeping — completely relaxed, his expression unguarded. In some ways, it was weird to think of him sleeping at all. He was a constant in her life — someone who was always there when she needed him, day or night. She had never seen him when he wasn’t alert and ready.

She watched him as the kitchen brightened to purple, then pink. Finally, a square of yellow sunlight started crawling across the kitchen floor. Tamani’s eyelashes fluttered, catching the light and casting narrow shadows over his bronze cheeks. Then his eyes snapped open and focused on Laurel. Instantly, he rolled away from her, coming up on his feet, hands held defensively in front of him.

“Tam!” Laurel said.

He looked at her, seeing her clearly for the first time, then straightened, dropping his hands. “Sorry,” he said, his voice rough and scratchy. He looked around the kitchen in confusion. “What happened?”

“You burst in here last night around ten. And then you collapsed. I checked with Aaron out back. All he would say was that I was safe and he didn’t know why you were here. Is everything okay?”

Tamani sat carefully on a barstool and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, more or less. I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

“A little ?” Laurel said, scolding him with a smile.

“Maybe more than a little,” Tamani admitted, grinning wryly. “I should have just bunked out and waited till morning. Hey, can I steal something to eat, please?”

“Sure,” Laurel said, going to the refrigerator. “What do you want? Peaches? Strawberries? I have some mango.”

“Do you have vegetables? I would kill for some broccoli right now. No,” he amended. “I really shouldn’t have broccoli. I eat too much green stuff as it is — don’t want my hair to change.”

Laurel scrutinized the fridge. “Jicama?” she asked. “It’s white.”

“Actually that sounds really good, thank you.”

Laurel pulled out a dish of jicama her mother had chopped up last night and set the whole thing in front of Tamani. It was way more than she could have eaten, but after last night, Tamani might need it all. Laurel watched him down several slices. “So what happened?” she asked, snagging a piece of the white veggie for herself.