I knew there were now old-growth forests where only a few years before there had been fallow land. Extinct species populated these forests-how they'd managed that I suspected I knew, but I hoped I was just being paranoid.
"Not long," Caimbeui said. "Aithne has spies ev- erywhere. Fortunately, he's away from Portland right now. And we know Alachia was in Tir na n6g. Though I suspect after our visit she might be here al- ready. But I've never been very good at predicting what she will do next.
"There's a celebration planned for this even- ing. Something to do with The Rite of Progres- sion."
I got up from the couch and came over to where Caimbeui stood by the open doors. It was already getting dark. The gray misting sky oppressive and bleak.
"You don't like it here," I said.
"No."
"Neither do I. It reminds me too much of the days when Alachia was Queen. What she turned so many of us into. It frightens me because I think it could all happen again. Especially when I see that the Enemy is coming again."
Caimbeui stepped behind me, then wrapped his arms about my waist. It was very comforting to stand there in the slowly falling chill night with him warm and solid against my back. He rested his chin on my head.
"But things are different now," he said. "The world is different. We can keep the past from hap- pening again."
"I hope you're right." "I am," he said. "I am."
And we stayed there for a while, in the darkness, resting against each other for support.
"Did you think I had forgotten you?" Ysrthgrathe asks.
She freezes, finding herself not in the safety of Caimbeul's arms, but embraced by her enemy. His arms are thickly muscled and hold her so tight that even though she struggles, it's as if she has never moved.
Then his mouth is at her ear, breath hot against the tender flesh. "I have been waiting for you so pa- tiently, my sweet. This delay is but a heartbeat for me. The blink of an eye. And there is nothing you can do that will stop me this time. Not running to your precious Aithne. Not dragging that clown be- hind you. None of them will save you from me this time."
Somehow, she manages to slip free of his grasp, but then he laughs and she knows he's let her go.
"This isn't the past, Ysrthgrathe," she says. "I'm not that foolish girl anymore. You can't frighten me like you did then."
"Liar," he says.
21
Caimbeui had insisted we bring formal attire. I had wondered at this, but as we entered the grounds of Royal Hill where Lugh Surehand occupied the Royal Palace, I was glad of his foresight. An elf attired in livery opened the door to our limo.
I'd also wondered at Caimbeul's choice of vehicle until I saw the battery of armaments, assault weapon controls, and other trinkets loaded onto the seem- ingly innocuous luxury car. The driver was a nasty- looking troll who seemed to know Caimbeul. Or at least they exchanged those knowing sort of nods that men think are very casual but anyone with half a brain can see right through.
I wasn't sure whose Rite this celebration was for, but Surehand had gone all out. There were white tents scattered across the manicured lawns. Path- ways between the tents were lit by magical means- nothing so mundane as electric lights for Lugh Surehand's guests. Garlands of flowers were draped over anything that stood still. Staff dressed in| Surehand's colors circulated among the guests carry- ing tray after tray of wine and Epicurean delights. Even the weather had been manipulated. It was cool but not chilly, and the rain that had plagued us all day was finally gone.
I noticed that all the servants seemed to be orks and dwarfs and almost all the guests elves. I knew that when the Tir was established they'd made a big show of inviting non-elven metahumans, but I sus- pected that it was more the desire for cheap labor than altruism.
Hanging back at the edge of the party, I stayed in the shadows, pulling Caimbeul with me.
"What are they?" I hissed, pointing at several elves dressed in solid-black partial body armor that resembled the plate mail worn by knights in the thir- teenth century. Some sported SMGs, others more lethal-looking weapons. Around them I could dis- cern magical auras.
"They're Paladins," he replied. "Part of Surehand's personal guard. He takes younger sons from the noble families and makes them swear fealty to him. Ehran started the whole thing, I think.
"It keeps them out of trouble. Otherwise they'd be brawling among themselves, or plotting to do in their older siblings. Let's face it, this hierarchical society they've reinstated has some serious drawbacks."
I nodded. "Only so many can be on top, and since who ends up there is already decided, it leaves everyone else with any ambition pretty much hosed. It's actually a pretty clever solution. Channel all that brawn and energy into supporting the status quo.
"But why would Surehand need them here? I know he has some sort of magical wards to protect this place. And I'm sure there's a mundane security system in place. Is there really that much chance for assassination?"
Caimbeul shrugged. "Probably not, but would you wantJour bully boys to think they're being shirked socially? Much better to keep them handy."
"And you wonder why I've never been much for society," I said. "This all seems like such a waste of time to me. I don't have the stomach for it."
Caimbeul reached out and placed his hand lightly on the small of my back. I was wearing a gown cut very low in the back. The contact of his hand against my naked flesh made me shiver.
"I think we'd best make ourselves known," Caim- beui said. "I wouldn't want to get caught lurking here in the shadows."
We moved forward then, stepping into the golden wash provided by the floating wisps of light. Caimbeui guided us from one group to the next with the practiced grace and smoothness I'd forgotten he possessed. After- all, he'd spent time both in Alachia's court as well as the courts of the Northern Kingdoms, while I had made myself an outcast from society many times over.
With each group, we moved closer and closer to Lugh Surehand. It was a ballet of conversation, compliments, and jockeying for position. I was so caught up in admiring Caimbeui's easy skills as a courtier that I forgot for a moment to pay attention to who was moving toward us.
"Aina," came a deep voice to my left. "It has been far too long. How are you, my dear?"
I found myself being kissed on both cheeks by a tallish man dressed in an exquisitely cut suit of black worsted wool. His long, steel-colored hair hung unbound down to the middle of his back, and he had almond-shaped, preternaturally golden eyes.
"Oh come now, Aina. Don't you recognize me?"
I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected inti- macy. Then I looked more closely at him. "Lofwyr," I said. "I didn't expect to see you in such a place. Nor in this guise."
The dragon laughed. "When in Rome and all that," he said. "But what about you? Sheep's cloth- ing? Or is it a new designer? As I recall, you were more fond of Chanel than anything else. But this doesn't look like anything I've seen lately."
I smoothed a hand over the gray velvet of my dress, a nervous gesture that I caught and made my- self stop.
"I had no idea you were so interested in fashion," I said. "A new hobby, or are you just bored?"