So much for any chance of keeping things secret, Mistaya thought in dismay.
A crowd quickly began to form about them, a mix of fairy-born united by curiosity and excitement. They spoke in a dozen different languages, only a few of which Mistaya even recognized. The children pushed close and reached out to touch her clothing in quick, furtive gestures, laughing and darting away after doing so. She smiled bravely, trying to ignore her growing sense of claustrophobia.
Then the crowd parted and a clutch of robed figures pushed forward, men and women of various ages. Her grandfather stood foremost, his tall, lean figure dominating the assemblage, his chiselled features impassive as he saw who was causing all the excitement. No smile appeared to soften his stern look, and no greeting came. The gills on either side of his neck fluttered softly and the slits of his eyes tightened marginally, but nothing else gave any indication of his thinking.
“Come with me, Mistaya,” he said, taking her arm. He glanced at Poggwydd and Shoopdiesel. “The Gnomes will remain here.”
He walked her back through the crowd, away from everyone but the handful of guards who were always close at hand. They passed down several walkways lined with flowers and through a park to a fountain set in the center of a pool. Benches surrounded the pool, and he led her to one and seated her firmly.
There was anger in his eyes now. “Tell me what are you doing with those creatures!” he snapped. “Tell me why you brought them here!”
So this is how it’s going to be, she thought. She tightened her resolve. “They insisted on coming, and I did not see the harm. How are you, Grandfather?”
“Irritated with you,” he replied, the weight of his gaze bearing down on her. “I hear nothing from you for more than a year, and then you violate our code by bringing into the home city of the fairy-born a pair of creatures who are never allowed in places much less selective about whom they admit. What were you thinking, child?”
She held his gaze. “I was thinking you might be more tolerant than this. I was thinking that at the very least you might hear me out.”
“Perhaps you thought wrong—just as I did in believing you would not forget your grandfather and your fairy-born roots.” He paused, and some of his anger faded. “Very well, tell me about this business.”
“First of all,” she said, “it was insulting not to be greeted in a more friendly and personal fashion by my own grandfather. I traveled some distance to see you, and I would have thought you could show some small measure of happiness at seeing me, no matter the time that has elapsed between visits. I would have thought an appropriate display of affection might be called for!”
She paused, but he said nothing. She shook her head. “I have been away at school in my father’s world, should it have slipped your mind. Visits back here from another world are not so easily arranged. Yes, I should have come before this, but it wasn’t as if I had all that many chances to do so.”
He nodded. “I accept that. But there are other avenues of communication, I am told.”
She returned the nod. “And I accept that. But things have a way of getting away from you.”
“So you’ve come to see me now, something you might have had the courtesy to advise me of. But you sent me no notice of your visit.” He gave her a long, hard once-over. “Why would that be?”
“An impulsive act, perhaps? Maybe I suddenly regretted my neglect of you and decided to make up for it?” She made a face at him. “Don’t be so stern. It isn’t as if I haven’t thought about you.”
“Nor I of you, Mistaya.”
“I decided it was time to make amends. I thought my coming would be a nice surprise.”
“A surprise, in any event. Am I to gather that your choice of traveling companions is a part of that surprise?”
“No,” she admitted. “I was … I was sort of forced to let them accompany me. They worried for me and insisted on seeing me safely here. I asked them not to do so, but they would not hear of it, so I agreed to let them come.” She shrugged. “I didn’t see the harm. They can be sent away now, if you wish.”
Her grandfather studied her once more, his eyes searching her own. “I see,” he said finally. He kept looking at her, the long fringes of black hair on the backs of his arms rippling in the cool breeze. She didn’t like how his eyes made her feel, but she forced herself to wait on him.
He sighed. “You know, Mistaya,” he said finally, “the fairy-born cannot be easily deceived, even by their own kind. Not very often, anyway. Not even by someone as talented as you. We have an instinct for when we are not being told the truth. You have that same instinct, do you not? It is a safeguard against those who might hurt us—intentionally or not.” He paused. “Those instincts are telling me something about you, right now.”
“Perhaps they are mistaken,” she tried.
He shook his head, his chiseled features as hard and fixed as stone. “I don’t think so. Something is going on here that you haven’t told me. You might want to consider doing so now. Without revising as you go.”
She saw that he had seen through her deception, and that lying or telling half-truths was only going to get her deeper in trouble. “All right, I’ll tell you the truth. But please listen and don’t get angry. I need you to be fair and impartial about what I’m going to say.”
Her grandfather nodded. “I will hear you out.”
So she told him everything, right from the beginning, right from the part where she had been suspended from Carrington up to her father’s insistence on sending her to Libiris to oversee a renovation of the library. It took her awhile, and she faltered more than once, aware of how bad it all made her look, even if it wasn’t her fault and entirely unfair. She even admitted that she had used Poggwydd to help her make her escape, and that having done so she found herself obliged to bring him along so as not to alert her parents before she had reached Elderew and the fairy-born.
When she had finished, he shook his head in disbelief.
“Please don’t do that!” she snapped at him. “I came to you for help because you are my grandfather and the only one I could think of who would be willing to consider my situation in a balanced way. And you’re not afraid of my father!”
He arched one eyebrow. “You don’t think so?”
She gritted her teeth. “I am asking for sanctuary,” she declared, liking the lofty, important sound of it. “I’m asking for time to find a way to make my parents see the wrongness of what they are proposing. I don’t expect you to do anything but let me stay with you until they’ve had a chance to think things through. I will be no trouble to you. I will do whatever you require of me to earn my room and board.”
“Your room and board?” he repeated. “And you say you will be no trouble to me?”
“I do say!” she snapped anew. “And stop repeating everything, Grandfather! It makes you sound condescending!”
He shook his head some more. “So your visit to surprise me has more to do with your falling-out with your parents than a desire to see me?”
He said it mildly, but she could feel the edge to his voice. “Yes, I suppose it does. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have missed you very much. I know I should have come sooner to see you, and I might have done so if I hadn’t been sent off to Carrington. I might actually visit more often now, if I am not exiled to Libiris. But you have to help me! You understand what this means better than anyone else! The fairy-born would never submit to such treatment—being locked away in some old building with nothing to do but organize books and papers and talk to walls! Their plan is nothing more than a reaction to my dismissal from school!”
“Your intention, then, is to reside with me until something happens to change your parents’ minds about Libiris and your future, is that right?”