One Salt Sea
Page 28
I caught Tybalt looking out the windows in confusion, like he didn’t remember where we were or what we were doing there. “This is a seriously good misdirection spell,” I said. “It’s a good thing she told it I was coming, huh?”
Tybalt glanced at me, seeming briefly confused that I was there. The moment passed. “You’re an ally,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s wise to remember that.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, pulling up to the curb. Tybalt was out of the car before I turned the engine off. He stopped about five feet away, half-bleached by the fog, and stayed there, shuddering slightly and taking large, shaky breaths. I took my time getting out of the car, giving him a chance to calm down.
He jumped when I closed my door, casting another bewildered glance my way. Acting purely on instinct, I crossed to him and took hold of his elbow. His expression cleared, replaced by embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot . . . briefly, I’m afraid that I forgot you were here.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “I’m forgettable. You okay?”
“No.” He stepped a little closer as he scanned the fog surrounding us. “Perhaps you’d best keep your grip. This enchantment seems somewhat over fond of claiming me.”
“Not a problem.” I started into the fog. “This way.”
“As you like.” Tybalt let me pull him along. His footsteps made no noise on the broken, gravel-studded sidewalks, while I sounded like an entire invading army all by myself. “What, if anything, do you know about the Lordens?”
“Patrick seems nice. Dianda was a little cranky, but I’d be cranky, too, if someone stole my kids and tried to put an arrow through my husband.” I shrugged, kicking a chunk of glass out of the way. “Why? Do you have some great revelations to share?”
“Not great, but they might be of use.” His gaze went distant as he tried to put his next words in order. “The Duchess—Dianda—has reigned in Saltmist since before I moved to the Mists. She used to be seen in the Courts quite often, when Gilad was King. She’s a traditionalist, of a kind, but unlike some, she’s never preached separation of land and sea. That’s part of why she married Patrick.”
“Only part?”
Tybalt gave me a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “They fell in love,” he said. “It does happen.”
I was grateful for the fog surrounding us. I could at least pretend he couldn’t see me blushing. “Right. So what does that mean?”
“It means she didn’t take it well when people started shunning him, or when he started having ‘accidents. King Gilad was an attendant at their wedding—he didn’t just approve, he gave his blessing—but things changed when the new Queen took the throne. It wasn’t acceptable to be a land noble married to a sea Duchess anymore. That’s when Patrick renounced his titles.” Tybalt started walking faster. I tightened my hand on his elbow.
“Do you think you can find the Luidaeg’s on your own?” I asked.
He eyed me. “No,” he admitted.
“Then slow down.”
Grudgingly, Tybalt slowed his pace.
“That’s better. Now, back to the Lordens. You’re saying they had some resentment before some idiot decided to snatch their kids.”
“They’ve had a long time to feel hurt and persecuted, and the Duchess has never forgiven easily.” He cast a sidelong look at me. “That’s something her Court and mine have always had in common.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I didn’t have to; we’d reached the Luidaeg’s door. It was open, flooding the surrounding fog with warm lamplight, and the Luidaeg herself was sitting on the threshold, eating Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food out of the carton. She stuck the spoon into the ice cream and stood when she saw us, flicking one electric-taped pigtail carelessly back over her shoulder.
“I thought that was you,” she said. “And you brought a friend. It’s good to see you playing nicely with the other children, even if this isn’t the best time to develop a social life.”
Tybalt folded a hand over mine as he offered her a cordial bow. “Milady of the Moors. It has been too long.”
“No, it hasn’t,” the Luidaeg replied, mildly enough. The last time they’d seen each other, he’d been helping to steal me back from Blind Michael. Not exactly the sort of thing that inspires a lasting friendship. “Has the Court of Dreaming Cats declared alliance?”
“Yes,” he said. He didn’t let go of my hand.
The Luidaeg lifted an eyebrow, looking amused. “Is that so? Well, you’re here now. I guess you might as well come in.” She turned, heading into the hall. Tybalt and I exchanged a look before shrugging, almost in unison, and stepping inside.
The door slammed shut behind us.
The smell of brine and ashes was stronger inside the apartment, and golden lamplight seemed to radiate from the walls, probably anchoring the misdirection spell blanketing the neighborhood. The light made the mess in the hall seem less severe, blunting the edges into an abstraction, like the treasure in a dragon’s lair. The muck-colored carpet still crackled underfoot. I found that reassuring.
The Luidaeg was settled on the couch in a disarmingly casual pose when we reached the living room. “Well?” she asked, around a mouthful of ice cream. “Why are you already back? Did you save the world or something?”
“I’m still working on it.” I sat down on an old wooden chest. It creaked under my weight. “Tybalt’s here because the Cait Sidhe are going to help defend Goldengreen, if things come to that.”
“Brave little kitty.” She watched Tybalt pick his way across the floor, her gaze as flat and cold as a shark’s. “You going to run out the moment things get difficult, cat?”
“That isn’t my intention,” he replied, haughtiness warring with caution in his tone. Only the narrowing of his pupils betrayed how much her question annoyed him. “Cats may be fickle, but my word has value.”
“Good.” The Luidaeg took another bite of ice cream, turning back to me. “You’d have called if that was all you had. What is it, and what do you want?”
“I got some information from a Glastig I know. He says the Lorden boys were stolen by a woman with red hair and yellow eyes. Know anyone who fits the description?” She was silent. I nodded. “Thought so. I’m going to Shadowed Hills next, to tell the Torquills in person and search Rayseline’s quarters. There’s a chance, even if it’s a slim one, that she’ll have left something there that could give me a clue to why she’s doing this—and whether she’s doing it alone.”
Tybalt glanced at me, seeming briefly confused that I was there. The moment passed. “You’re an ally,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s wise to remember that.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, pulling up to the curb. Tybalt was out of the car before I turned the engine off. He stopped about five feet away, half-bleached by the fog, and stayed there, shuddering slightly and taking large, shaky breaths. I took my time getting out of the car, giving him a chance to calm down.
He jumped when I closed my door, casting another bewildered glance my way. Acting purely on instinct, I crossed to him and took hold of his elbow. His expression cleared, replaced by embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot . . . briefly, I’m afraid that I forgot you were here.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “I’m forgettable. You okay?”
“No.” He stepped a little closer as he scanned the fog surrounding us. “Perhaps you’d best keep your grip. This enchantment seems somewhat over fond of claiming me.”
“Not a problem.” I started into the fog. “This way.”
“As you like.” Tybalt let me pull him along. His footsteps made no noise on the broken, gravel-studded sidewalks, while I sounded like an entire invading army all by myself. “What, if anything, do you know about the Lordens?”
“Patrick seems nice. Dianda was a little cranky, but I’d be cranky, too, if someone stole my kids and tried to put an arrow through my husband.” I shrugged, kicking a chunk of glass out of the way. “Why? Do you have some great revelations to share?”
“Not great, but they might be of use.” His gaze went distant as he tried to put his next words in order. “The Duchess—Dianda—has reigned in Saltmist since before I moved to the Mists. She used to be seen in the Courts quite often, when Gilad was King. She’s a traditionalist, of a kind, but unlike some, she’s never preached separation of land and sea. That’s part of why she married Patrick.”
“Only part?”
Tybalt gave me a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “They fell in love,” he said. “It does happen.”
I was grateful for the fog surrounding us. I could at least pretend he couldn’t see me blushing. “Right. So what does that mean?”
“It means she didn’t take it well when people started shunning him, or when he started having ‘accidents. King Gilad was an attendant at their wedding—he didn’t just approve, he gave his blessing—but things changed when the new Queen took the throne. It wasn’t acceptable to be a land noble married to a sea Duchess anymore. That’s when Patrick renounced his titles.” Tybalt started walking faster. I tightened my hand on his elbow.
“Do you think you can find the Luidaeg’s on your own?” I asked.
He eyed me. “No,” he admitted.
“Then slow down.”
Grudgingly, Tybalt slowed his pace.
“That’s better. Now, back to the Lordens. You’re saying they had some resentment before some idiot decided to snatch their kids.”
“They’ve had a long time to feel hurt and persecuted, and the Duchess has never forgiven easily.” He cast a sidelong look at me. “That’s something her Court and mine have always had in common.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I didn’t have to; we’d reached the Luidaeg’s door. It was open, flooding the surrounding fog with warm lamplight, and the Luidaeg herself was sitting on the threshold, eating Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food out of the carton. She stuck the spoon into the ice cream and stood when she saw us, flicking one electric-taped pigtail carelessly back over her shoulder.
“I thought that was you,” she said. “And you brought a friend. It’s good to see you playing nicely with the other children, even if this isn’t the best time to develop a social life.”
Tybalt folded a hand over mine as he offered her a cordial bow. “Milady of the Moors. It has been too long.”
“No, it hasn’t,” the Luidaeg replied, mildly enough. The last time they’d seen each other, he’d been helping to steal me back from Blind Michael. Not exactly the sort of thing that inspires a lasting friendship. “Has the Court of Dreaming Cats declared alliance?”
“Yes,” he said. He didn’t let go of my hand.
The Luidaeg lifted an eyebrow, looking amused. “Is that so? Well, you’re here now. I guess you might as well come in.” She turned, heading into the hall. Tybalt and I exchanged a look before shrugging, almost in unison, and stepping inside.
The door slammed shut behind us.
The smell of brine and ashes was stronger inside the apartment, and golden lamplight seemed to radiate from the walls, probably anchoring the misdirection spell blanketing the neighborhood. The light made the mess in the hall seem less severe, blunting the edges into an abstraction, like the treasure in a dragon’s lair. The muck-colored carpet still crackled underfoot. I found that reassuring.
The Luidaeg was settled on the couch in a disarmingly casual pose when we reached the living room. “Well?” she asked, around a mouthful of ice cream. “Why are you already back? Did you save the world or something?”
“I’m still working on it.” I sat down on an old wooden chest. It creaked under my weight. “Tybalt’s here because the Cait Sidhe are going to help defend Goldengreen, if things come to that.”
“Brave little kitty.” She watched Tybalt pick his way across the floor, her gaze as flat and cold as a shark’s. “You going to run out the moment things get difficult, cat?”
“That isn’t my intention,” he replied, haughtiness warring with caution in his tone. Only the narrowing of his pupils betrayed how much her question annoyed him. “Cats may be fickle, but my word has value.”
“Good.” The Luidaeg took another bite of ice cream, turning back to me. “You’d have called if that was all you had. What is it, and what do you want?”
“I got some information from a Glastig I know. He says the Lorden boys were stolen by a woman with red hair and yellow eyes. Know anyone who fits the description?” She was silent. I nodded. “Thought so. I’m going to Shadowed Hills next, to tell the Torquills in person and search Rayseline’s quarters. There’s a chance, even if it’s a slim one, that she’ll have left something there that could give me a clue to why she’s doing this—and whether she’s doing it alone.”
