“I appreciate your faith.” Somehow, it wasn’t surprising to hear April’s voice coming from behind us.
“What did I say about sneaking up on people?” asked Li Qin.
“That I should do it only when it was funny.” There was a faint inrush of air as April vanished, reappearing in the hall about six feet ahead of our little group. She turned to me. “I have started a fresh pot of coffee. I remember that this is essential to your normal operations.”
“I love you right now,” I said gravely.
April smiled.
Five minutes later, the four of us were settled in the cafeteria, Quentin with a can of Dr Pepper and a platter of sandwiches from the vending machine, me with an entire pot of coffee that I didn’t have to share. Li Qin was making tea on the other side of the room when April looked at me, cocking her head to the side again, and asked, “So what is going on?”
One of the nice things about dealing with April is her lack of subtlety. There was no need to beat around the bush with her. “We have a missing half-Tuatha changeling. The last sign we had of where she might be going put her somewhere in this area. You’re the only teleporter I know who lives out here, and I was hoping you might help us.”
“Ah.” April frowned. “Why is it vital she be found? Perhaps she has simply taken a vacation.”
“That seems unlikely, since she’s ripping holes in the fabric of Faerie. She’s gating all the way into the sealed lands, and that’s not good.”
There was a clanging sound from the other side of the cafeteria. We turned to see Li Qin staring at us, the teapot lying at her feet in a spreading pool of liquid. Quentin and I stared at her. She stared back. Finally, slowly, she said, “You have to find her. You have to find her
“Yeah, we know,” I said. “That’s why we’re here. She—”
“You don’t understand,” Li Qin interrupted. “The shallowing has been unstable all day. I thought it was being cranky. I didn’t know someone was actively undermining reality. If you don’t find her, if you don’t
“Oh,” said Quentin faintly. “That’s new.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s very new.”
Crap.
THIRTEEN
LI QIN TOOK A BREATH, composing herself. “This isn’t new,” she said. “This is old. This goes all the way back to when Faerie was first setting roots into the mortal world.”
I frowned a little. “Sorry, but I have no idea what that means. I skipped my remedial Fairyland history classes.”
“I see why Jan liked you.” Li Qin picked up her teapot. She set it on the counter and reached for a towel. “The Summerlands are the only realm of Faerie directly connected to the mortal world. That’s why all knowes are anchored there. It’s like building houses by digging holes in the skin of an orange—they touch on both the orange and the air, but are really suspended between them, fully part of neither. Do you understand?”
“No,” I said.
Quentin shook his head. “My theory lessons haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“All right, then, to put it more simply: knowes and shallowings exist because the Summerlands are connected to the mortal world. Normally, teleporters move through the space between the anchors, and that makes the ties between worlds stronger by making the open spaces part of the binding. Like a spider weaving a web around a few solid sticks. A teleporter who’s ripping through, on the other hand…” Li Qin knelt, beginning to wipe up her spill. “She’s forcing her way through the places where the worlds are directly connected, and that can damage the connections. A knowe can exist severed from one world, provided it has a sufficiently large foundation in the other. A knowe severed from both worlds will crumble, and anyone inside will be lost forever.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s basically the cherry on top of this week’s sundae of suck. Got any more good news for us?”
“Duchess Riordan has recently withdrawn the majority of her forces from our border,” said April.
I paused, trying to catch up with her change of subjects. “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked finally.
“It changes the status quo. Changes, while interesting, often have negative consequences.” April vanished again, reappearing next to Li Qin. She grabbed a towel of her own and dropped to her knees. “Riordan has never, in my records, committed to a troop movement of this size without royal orders or intent to commit invasion.”
“…Huh.” I refilled my coffee cup, using the action to buy me a few seconds to think.
Tamed Lightning is a relatively new County; April is only its second regent. It was formed by taking unclaimed land from between two Duchies, Shadowed Hills and Dreamer’s Glass. Sylvester, who ruled Shadowed Hills, didn’t mind. Treasa Riordan, the Duchess of Dreamer’s Glass, minded a lot. She didn’t approve of anything that encroached on her borders, or made her plans for long-term expansion more difficult. She was paranoid, greedy, and aggressive toward her neighbors—in short, a classic Daoine Sidhe regent. There’s a reason they hold so many fiefdoms. They’re good at it, sure. But they’re also willing to step in and take what they want, when they want it, without caring who gets hurt in the process.
To illustrate my point: January O’Leary died partly because she was blind to what was going on in her own fiefdom and partly because she knew that if she took herself out of harm’s way, Riordan would steal her lands. Walk away for a minute, walk away forever. April was right. There was no way Riordan would be moving her people without a good reason.
“April,” I said, slowly. “Do you think you could take a charm to Dreamer’s Glass for me? I don’t need you to find Chelsea, but I need to know if it changes colors.”
“I am sorry, but I cannot.” She straightened and tossed her tea-soaked towel onto the counter, where it landed with a splat. “Riordan has warded the boundaries of her land against me. I can enter only when I am physically transported, and once inside, I cannot return to my primary server through normal means. I dislike travel on her land for that precise reason.”
“That, and the part where she’d hold you hostage if she thought she could get away with it.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We need to get into that Duchy.”
“Perhaps I can help with that,” said Li Qin. “I am still afforded certain privileges there, much as it pains Riordan to extend them to me.”
“Why?” asked Quentin. “I mean why privileges, not why is Riordan a pissy bitch. I mean, we knew that part. She’s a pissy bitch because she’s a pissy bitch.”
“The first rule of Tautology Club is the first rule of Tautology Club,” I muttered.
Li Qin smiled sadly. “I am the widow of the former regent of Tamed Lightning. By tradition, all neighboring fiefdoms owe me seven years of hospitality, should I choose to claim it. That includes Dreamer’s Glass.”
Quentin frowned. “But I thought January was the only—ow!” He turned to frown at me. “Why did you kick me?”
“Because otherwise you would have eaten your own foot,” I said. I turned back to Li Qin. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You said that already,” she said, not unkindly. “Still, I would be glad to accompany you to Riordan’s Court, if you think it would assist.”
“I do.” I topped off my coffee before I stood. “April, can you do me a favor and watch for signs of someone you don’t know teleporting into Tamed Lightning? Her magic smells like sycamore smoke and calla lilies. It’s pretty distinct.”
“I can,” she said. “What shall I do if I am able to locate her?”
“Try to intercept her, if you can. See if you can convince her to stop running.” I wasn’t sure Chelsea was capable of stopping. Still. If April could manage it—if she could match her jump for jump, at least within the range of the ALH servers that allowed the cyber-Dryad to take solid form—it would be a huge step toward ending all of
