Theo looked down at the thing in his hand, a wafer-thin rectangle that seemed to have been sliced off a gemstone like a piece of pastrami, then looked up at the woman. She smiled encouragingly. "He is a bit stupid as you can see," she told the officers, "and he's a trial to me sometimes, but he would never harm anyone."
Theo held out the special ticket in a shaking hand. The constables looked at it with something like awe, but the hollow-man ignored it, staring at Theo and the young woman with a hatred that even his hat and shrouding garments did not conceal.
After he had held the ticket for a moment in his radiant glove, one of the constables passed the crystalline wafer back to Theo. The expression on the fairy-policeman's high-boned face, bored a few minutes earlier, was now electrified. "All in order."
"Now come back to the compartment, Quaeus," the young woman said. "When we get home, I'm afraid you will have to be punished for causing such trouble."
"Sorry to have bothered you, milady," said the other policeman.
"Yes, sorry to have bothered you, Lady Thornapple," said the one who had examined the ticket, who still looked as though he had briefly been allowed to tread on the steps of heaven.
The young woman laughed. "Lady Thornapple is my mother. You need only call me 'Mistress Thornapple.' "
"Yes, La… Yes, Mistress Thornapple."
The hollow-man let out a hiss that turned into a sputtering whisper. He shook his head in fury, writhing eel-like, as though he had no bones in his neck. "Are you fools going to let him walk away? Are you going to be taken in by this crude trick?"
"Shut up, you," one of the constables said. "First off, I told you, nobody's found a body in Penumbra Station. We checked."
"Then it's been hidden by this man or his associates," the hollow-man declared. "I witnessed the murder!"
The constable looked at him with obvious distaste. "Fine. Then how do you like this? This woman's father is First Councillor of the realm — what are you but a jumped-up private op? Now, do you want to finish this search, or are you going to waste more of our time here?"
The hollow-man seemed about to let out a shriek or leap at the constable's throat. Instead he turned toward Theo's rescuer and made a rubbery bow, but there was a nasty glint from the eyes beneath the hat brim. "I do not know what game you are playing, milady, but for now you have the advantage."
The woman in black's only reply was to laugh as she tugged Theo away up the aisle.
"I think we'll go to the club car," she said cheerfully as they passed through the loud connector between coaches. "That horrid person seemed extremely angry. He'd be a fool to try anything after all that, with so many witnesses, but we won't tempt him by isolating ourselves."
"What in the name of the Trees is going on out there?" shouted Applecore, struggling to fight her way loose from inside Theo's shirt.
"Ah, it's your little friend," said the young woman. "Well, I suppose she can come too. What do you drink, dear?"
Applecore fell back into the shirt as they bumped through the sliding door into the club car; her reply was lost against his midsection.
"I'm so pleased." The young woman collapsed into a booth. "This looked like being such a dull trip." Theo sat down carefully, not only to protect Applecore, who was still squirming around inside his clothing, but because he felt that if he moved too quickly his head might come off and roll under the table.
"Uh… thank you," he said. "For everything."
"Not at all," she replied. "What would you like to drink? You really must have at least one drink before we begin our torrid affair."
A head the size of a grape poked out of Theo's collar. It scowled. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but what the hell are you playing at?"
"Why — is he yours?"
"Not as such, no — but I'm the one looking after him. Did I hear that you're a Thornapple?"
The young woman rolled her eyes. "By birth, not by choice. The Trees know I'd just as soon have been born into an ordinary family like the Stocks or the Loosestrifes."
"An ordinary family with pots of money, then," said Applecore quietly, but the woman did not seem to hear. Theo could only stare in dazed astonishment at the exotic black-haired creature who had saved him. Just five minutes earlier he had been certain he was going to die; now his personal Tinker Bell was apparently arguing with this glamorous Goth princess about whether the newcomer would get to make love to him or not.
"So who are you?" he asked suddenly. "How did you get them to leave us alone, exactly? And who's… Kways?"
"Quaeus. He's one of our servants. He often travels with me — that's why I carry an open ticket for him — but he's back helping the family get ready for the funeral."
"Funeral?"
She went on as though he hadn't spoken. "They sent my old governess and a bodyguard to come back with me instead, but I wasn't going to put up with that so I left before they arrived."
Confused, Theo looked to Applecore, who had clambered out and was sitting on a saltshaker, her feet danging above the tabletop, but the sprite only shook her head. Theo decided she didn't look very happy about what was going on, which was odd considering the alternatives.
"You don't know about the funeral?" the young woman said. "It's been on all the mirror streams. I'll tell you, but be a hero first and get me a drink… oh, I don't know your name!"
"Theo." As soon as he said it, he looked guiltily at Applecore, who was indeed scowling. Ah, well, too late to come up with a pseudonym now.
"What an odd name! Sounds like it could be something out of Ash or Alder — or one of the Willow farming families." She smiled dazzlingly. "My name is Poppaea, but everyone calls me Poppy. Now do be an absolute Rose and get me a drink, will you?"
"Ummm, what should I get?" And how should I pay, he also wanted to ask.
"Don't be silly — the barman knows what I want. Just tell him to put it on my tab."
That problem solved, Theo wandered off across the dark compartment. He was grateful to see that most of the tables were unoccupied, perhaps only a dozen drinkers in the entire long coach, mostly solitary or in quiet-talking pairs. The whole club car had a hush about it that he had experienced only on his trips bearing floral tributes to high-powered executive offices — the stillness of lives heavily insulated by money. Almost everyone in the car was on the handsomely human end of the Fairy spectrum. They must have another bar for riffraff like me and the guys with wings and hooves, Theo thought.
If the bartender had wings, he kept them well-hidden. He had the long, saturnine look of an actor who might have been asked to play Iago a few times. "For Mistress Thornapple, yes?" He already had a cocktail shaker in his hands. "Anything for you, sir?"
"Yeah." Theo realized he had no idea what constituted a social drink in Fairyland. Did they have vodka? Or would it be something more like eye of newt, toe of frog? "I'll have the same as she's having."
He brought the two frosted glasses and the two shakers back on a tray. As he slid into the booth, Applecore gave him a hard look from atop the salt-shaker. "Did you get anything for me?" she asked. "Or was the simple pleasure of having been inside your shirt supposed to last me all day?"
Oh, my God, what's this about? Theo wasn't always the quickest guy around the block, but there was something going on here that sounded a lot like jealousy. This from a tiny person who had already said she thought he was shallow and selfish? He took the shot glass — the smallest he had been able to find — out of his pocket and put it down beside her. "I thought you and I could share."