“Come,” the girl said urgently. “Hide in here.” She held open the flap of a tent and motioned them inside. Something about her inspired trust. Delia made a decision. She didn’t want to be caught. It was hard to think. Something was keeping her from concentrating.
“In here, guys,” the girl cried and led the boys into the tent. Delia ducked in after her.
Kim pelted around a corner to find the way empty. She had been gaining on the little group of interlopers. All she wanted to do was get them away from the Faerground and off the island before they were discovered. Now they were nowhere to be seen.
Puzzled, she stood in the alleyway between the tents, wondering how she could have missed them. Without any other options, she decided to retrace her steps. Slowly, listening hard, she jogged back toward the Faerground, passing the closed flap of the tent where the group was huddled, waiting for her to leave.
When they were confident Kim was gone, the group of Humans let out a collective sigh of relief. In the gloom of the tent’s interior they allowed themselves to relax.
“That was close,” Delia said.
“She almost caught us,” Harold added.
Dmitri frowned. “Would that have been so bad?” They all looked at him, confused. In response, he shrugged and continued. “I mean, why did we get so panicked? We just ran. Doesn’t that strike you as an odd thing to do? There was no reason to assume that Kim meant to hurt us.”
Harold thought about that. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I just felt this total panic. I had to run.”
Delia realized they were right. “I don’t know.”
“Something made us do it,” Chester said heavily. “Or someone. Where is she?”
“Who?” Delia asked, confused.
“The girl,” Chester said. “The one who told us to hide here.”
“Uh… ” Delia couldn’t concentrate.
“Here I am!” came a playful voice from the gloom. A girl danced out into the light of the single lamp that hung from a tent pole. In the golden light, all pretense of Humanity was gone. As she came out of the shadows, she cast aside the hoodie. Beneath it she wore a ragged black dress, and her hair stood out in a wild tangle around her pale, childlike face. Her eyes had a mad gleam. She grinned, displaying glittering pointed teeth. “Who wants to play with me?”
Instinctively, the group backed toward the tent flap. They turned to flee but found the opening filled with the bulk of a tall, silver-haired man with cold grey eyes.
Chester stepped in front of the others and raised his hands in a defensive stance.
“Let us go,” he demanded.
The silver-haired man tilted his head to one side and stared at the boy as if considering the challenge, then said a single word.
“No.”
^ 60 Most Humans see what they want to see, what is easiest to believe. We explain away the amazing by convincing ourselves that magical, bizarre, or impossible events have mundane causes. UFOs are weather disturbances. Ghosts are hallucinations brought on by indigestion. Faeries use our willingness to disbelieve our eyes to help their glamours work. Brendan, an untried Faerie with little control of his powers, seems to have left an unconscious suggestion in Chester’s mind that allowed Chester to see the Faerie world. Now Chester has transferred his power of Sight to his friends, not because he has any Faerie abilities himself, but because he has made them want to see. No amount of will can turn me into a cat, however. Believe me. I’ve tried. A lot.
^ 61 Indeed, it is not good, as we will soon discover.
PROVING
Delia! Always manages to be annoying. Now she’s annoying in two different worlds! I’ll kill her if somebody hasn’t already. So it was Harold and Dmitri who’d been spying on me, but Chester? How did he get involved? And how could my sister possibly stand dealing with my friends? She wouldn’t normally be caught dead with such nerds.
With effort, Brendan pushed the questions from his mind as he made his way through the crowd of silent Faeries. He had to have a clear head if he was going to succeed. The crowd watched him pass with watchful, appraising eyes. Here and there he saw someone he recognized.
Leonard stood with his massive arm around Saskia’s waist. He flashed his gold teeth in a smile and Saskia winked.
Og patted Brendan on the back, almost knocking him off his feet. “Good on ya, lad.”
BLT flitted out of the crowd. She didn’t speak. She merely tugged on his earlobe with both hands and zipped away.
Brendan was almost at the rock when Finbar reached out and took his arm. The old man pulled him close in a rough embrace. Brendan was surprised at this show of emotion. The Exile barely spoke to anyone. A hug was quite out of character.
“Good luck, lad,” the old Exile whispered in his ear. Finbar let him go and melted back into the crowd before Brendan could react.
Brendan’s eyes turned to Pukh. The Lord of Tir na nOg stood beside the rock, smiling enigmatically. Brendan didn’t return the smile, keeping his face as straight and determined as he could. This only seemed to tickle Pukh more, broadening his grin. Brendan started forward again, covering the last few metres to the rock and stepping up beside Ariel. Ariel nodded, acknowledging his arrival.
“Brendan Morn.” Ariel spoke loud enough for all in the Faerground to hear. “You have been called forth to be Proven.” He turned to Pukh, Kitsune, and Deirdre. “Who will judge Brendan Morn?”
Pukh stepped forward and smiled his irritating cocky smile. “I will. Lord Pukh of Tir na nOg.”
Deirdre stepped up beside Pukh and said, “I will judge him. Deirdre D’Anaan: Weaver and head of the Clan of D’Anaan.”
Kitsune Kai waved a hand dismissively, blowing a pink bubble and popping it loudly as she studied her nails. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Very well,” Ariel said gravely. “Let the Proving begin.”
Ariel stepped down from the rock, leaving Brendan feeling horribly exposed and alone. He looked out at the sea of faces and felt faint. They all had the same eager look in their eyes. Brendan imagined that this was what convicted criminals felt like when they stepped out onto the gallows. His eye was drawn to a flicker of movement at the edge of the crowd. He saw Kim returning. She met his gaze and shook her head, shrugging. Kim hadn’t managed to catch Delia and the others. Brendan supposed that was a good sign. Perhaps they were gone, out of reach of any reprisal. He had to hope that was true.
His aunt Deirdre handed her harp to one of the attendants and mounted the stone, graceful and sure despite the long gown she wore. Brendan mentally crossed his fingers that she might go easy on him. Then he remembered how she’d terrorized his dreams when he first found out about his true heritage. Brendan glumly braced himself for the worst.
Before she turned to face the throng awaiting her Challenge, her eyes met Brendan’s. His aunt always made him a little uncomfortable. She was a powerful personality, and he sensed that she had to work to keep hidden a strong current of emotion that flowed close to the surface. It made her hard to be around. Brendan had often interpreted this as disapproval or anger. Today, in her eyes, he saw that emotion clearly as deep, irrevocable sadness and loss. He longed to reach out to her, here in front of everyone.
She turned away and addressed the crowd in her clear, powerful voice.
“This Proving was never necessary in my mind. I know this is my sister’s son. He has her eyes, her smile, and most importantly, her kind spirit. Bir-Gidha lives in him. He is my only link to her. I merely wish to show you how I know.”
With that, she began to sing.^ 62
Her song was light and plaintive, a lonely little melody that twisted around Brendan’s heart and tugged at it, trying to unravel it.
He couldn’t understand the words, if they were words at all. They were sounds, merely, nonsense but fraught with meaning. He found himself joining in.