Anne Kelleher - Silver's Bane

“Timias has his reasons, child, don’t ever doubt that Timias does anything without a reason.” An ugly look flashed across Vinaver’s face. “This should not be.”

Delphinea collapsed to her knees, so that she was level with Vinaver’s face. “It seems that there are many things that should not be, my lady. Perhaps you’d better tell me what’s going on. Where’s the Caul, and where’s Finuviel, and who’s responsible for that horror in the Forest?”

But Vinaver only closed her eyes and sighed. “So many questions all at once.” She tried to shake her head a little but winced.

“I have more.”

“Tell her the truth, Vinaver.” Dougal spoke from the door. Petri sniffed at his leg like a hound at a scent, and Dougal swatted him away. “Tell her the whole truth.”

“We took the Caul,” Vinaver answered wearily, her eyes closed, her cheek flat against her pillow. “Finuviel and I, and we gave it to a mortal.”

“But why?” Delphinea rocked back on her heels in horror.

“It’s as you guessed, child. The Silver Caul is poisoning Faerie. I couldn’t tell you the truth in the palace. How was I to know you’d not go running to Timias the moment I’d left your room? We took the Caul, Finuviel and I, and he gave it to a mortal to hold in surety of the bargain.”

“What bargain?” Delphinea drew back, staring down at Vinaver in horror.

“We needed a silver dagger. Where else to get it but from the mortals?”

“You mean to kill the Queen?”

“No.” Vinaver shut her eyes once more. “I could never kill my sister.” She opened her eyes. “But, she’s not really—she’s not really my sister.” Delphinea cocked her head and sank down once more onto a low stool that Leonine had drawn up to the bed, as Vinaver continued. “Alemandine isn’t really anything at all—she’s neither sidhe nor mortal. She’s a—a residue of all the energy that was left over when the Caul was created. The male and female energy mingling in my mother’s womb was enough to create her out of ungrounded magic, magic from her union with Timias and the mortal. They didn’t consider what would happen—they didn’t understand the energies they were working with. No one ever really does, you know. If I learned nothing else from the Hag, I learned that.” She broke off and with a shaking hand pushed back a loose lock of Delphinea’s hair. “There was nothing to say that Alemandine should not be Queen. After all, she was born first. And whatever else Alemandine is, she is a part of me. So no, the intention was never to kill the Queen. Timias is the one meant to die. Timias must die, Timias will die when the Caul is destroyed. For as long as the Caul endures, so will Timias. He will never choose to go into the West. He’ll never have to.”

Delphinea glanced over her shoulder. Dougal stood in the doorway still, his arms crossed over his chest. “Philomemnon said Alemandine would die when the Caul was destroyed. Is that true?”

“I doubt she has much longer to live as it is, though yes, that is a consequence. But what would you have us do? There is no way to save both the Queen and Faerie—and to save the Queen is to ensure that we all die. What choice was there really?”

“So you made a bargain with a mortal—for the dagger. And what was your part?”

“In exchange for the dagger we promised the host—”

“The host in the Forest.”

“We knew the mortal world was in chaos. A mad king sits on the throne, the people chafe beneath the rule of his foreign Queen. The events of the Shadowlands echo Faerie and those in Faerie, Shadow. It was in our best interests to resolve the strife there—”

“Why, that’s exactly what Timias said to the Council,” Delphinea blurted. “That day in the Council—the day he came back—”

“Whatever I say of him, he’s not a fool. He understands better than anyone how tightly the worlds are bound.” Vinaver plucked restlessly at the linen pillow. “But now—” She raised her head and looked directly at Petri. “Now—”

But before she could finish, the door opened and Ethoniel hesitated on the threshold, with a flushed face, breathing hard. From somewhere far below, Delphinea heard distant shouts. They all turned and looked at him, and Vinaver moved her head weakly on the pillow, beckoning Ethoniel with a feeble wave. “What news, Captain?”

At once, Ethoniel crossed the room and went down on one knee beside the bed. “I bring both good and bad news, my lady,” he hesitated. “We found no sign of Prince Finuviel, no sign at all. We found nothing of his—neither armor, nor standard, nor horse—and all of us combed the sad remains as carefully as we could. But there is a company of knights, at least ten thirteens or more, marching on the Forest House. They are coming to arrest both you and the Lady Delphinea—” here, he turned to look at Delphinea over his shoulder “—yes, my lady, you, too, on charges of high treason and the theft of the Silver Caul. They are more than a hundred against my one squad, my lady. What would you have me do?”

Even Delphinea understood his dilemma. He likely was outranked by whoever led the guards. To defy to open the gates was treason. To disobey Finuviel’s orders to defend his mother offended honor.

For a long moment no one spoke. Then Petri hissed from the door and he scrabbled forward, his eyes cast low, his tail tucked under in perfect obeisance. In a series of quick gestures, accompanied by a few stifled hisses, he motioned, I can help you find him, great lady.

Vinaver’s eyes narrowed and she looked down at the cringing gremlin, and then up at Delphinea. “The removal of the Caul from the moonstone must’ve made it possible for him to leave.”

Petri’s eyes were huge, and he looked up at Delphinea with flared nostrils. I can help you find him, lady. I know the way through Shadow. I can find him. And the Caul.

“Petri says he can help me find Finuviel.” Delphinea clasped his hand in both of hers. The thought that she should be the one to look for Finuviel jolted her into the realization of exactly how dire the situation was.

At once Dougal shifted on his feet, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I don’t like that idea. There’s a saying, never a trust a trixie.”

“What about the knights, my lady? They’ve orders to burn the Forest House if we don’t open the gates.” Ethoniel broke in, desperation clear.

Vinaver moved her head restlessly on the pillow. “We have to find Finuviel. We’re running out of time. The Caul must be unMade before Mid-Winter.”

“I suppose I’m the one that’s seen him last,” said Dougal. “With Cadwyr. That night at my forge.”

Beside Delphinea, Petri tugged on her hand. I can help you, lady. Please, lady, I can help you find the Caul. I can find the mortal Duke. I can find the Caul. I brought you here. He stepped in front of Vinaver and groveled before her. Please, great lady. You know how we, too, are bound to the Caul. It calls to me from Shadow, even now.

“Let me go find him,” Dougal said suddenly.

Vinaver replied with an arch look, “That’s not exactly our bargain, is it, Master Smith?”

“Do you want your son and the Caul found or not? I’m the last who saw him, I know who he was with. Who else do you have who knows Brynhyvar the way I do?”

I know it better than any mortal—I know the Underneath and the In-between. I can take her through the Mother-Wood. Petri quivered, his hands knotted tightly together. “Forgive me, gentle folk, if my unkind voice offends,” he said in his high-pitched strangled shriek. “But I remember—I can lead—let me—let me—”

“Be quiet,” interrupted Vinaver. “Be still, khouri-kan.”

“Delphinea can’t go,” broke in Ethoniel. “They’re here to take her as well.”