“Not exactly. But I like the way you’re thinking,” said Wes.
“If I may?” asked one of the guard Fae. “We’ve engaged on a number of occasions with Meribah and those who follow her. Nothing terribly deadly, but she does like to poke and provoke, to see how far she can push before you do one of three things.” The guard held up her forefinger. “First, she’ll watch how you defend yourself. I speak here of the tools and weapons you use, as well as your technique, your preferred style of defense. The next time you meet she will know how to get through that defense. Meribah will always look for your weaknesses.”
I could attest to that. After Thatcher’s birth, Meribah had begun a slow campaign to wear down my self-confidence with subtle jabs at everything from my mothering to the circumference of my waistline. Now that I knew she had been pursuing a match between Doug and the LaFleur sisters while I was in my post-natal funk, more of her behaviors were making sense.
Twisted sense. But at heart that was Meribah.
“Second,” said the same guard, “she’ll observe what it takes to get you to fight back. And she will incorporate that information into her tactics in the middle of the negotiations or the attack. Third, she will be waiting to see how you maneuver offensively. Do you lead with your right or left side, or do you charge straight up the middle? Do you engage in verbal sparring? She’ll be looking for your physical tells.”
Another of the Fae broke in. “She’s quite skilled and should never be underestimated.”
I was getting firsthand lessons in that.
“Do you know how many allies she has?” I asked. “I have no idea how many Fae or other Magicals might accompany her here.”
“Not as many as she would like. Her sons. Her sister, Adelaide. We know from the two spies we have planted amongst her household staff that those who work at the estate are not skilled fighters. They’re quite capable of defending the property, but I cannot see them coming here with her,” said another of the guards. “Though we should expect others.”
The lead guard’s nod was slow and thoughtful. “Yes. But Primèvere and Vadim are skillful. Meribah will ask only Adelaide and two others to accompany her, reasoning that Némophilie and Silène will need added protection. Any more and it will read as a potential provocation. There are twelve of us. Four—two per daughter—will remain in a protected area, close to the portal. They will be prepared to defend the sisters and transport them out if needed. The other eight can be divided amongst the rest of you and will assist as asked.”
“Can you glamour yourselves into looking not-Fae?” I asked. “And how do we deal with Meribah’s blades? And that spinning thing she does?” I described how Tanner helped me interrupt Meribah’s momentum when she was doing her best to imitate a helicopter with a thousand rotors.
“We came armed with swordbreakers.” Three of the Fae held out long daggers with notched edges. “The blade is trapped here,” the speaker continued, pointing to one of the notches, “and once we have it trapped, we give a hard twist. We break their blades, and if we cannot do so thusly, we dull and gouge the edges. Which is why we work in groups of two, three, or four.” The same guard then spoke to the hidden folk. “Where would the owners of the farm keep their tools?”
“Shed. Maybe the barn?”
“Show us.”
While Wes, Hyslop, and Peasgood led a group of eight Fae to the outbuildings, the other four, plus Belle and the sisters, looked to me.
“I’m an Earth Witch,” I said. “I’ve only recently had my initiation and Blood Ceremony. I’m able to call on invasive species of vines and direct them to bind. But I’m not sure what else I can do.”
“You can name, Calliope, and with that naming ability, you can freeze an opponent,” said Rose. She and L’Runa had arrived without anyone of us noticing. “Though not for long.”
“How did you get in here all quiet-like?” asked Belle, pushing herself off the couch. She tiptoed around the map and embraced her two friends.
“We employed no magical means. You, however, are deeply engaged in whatever it is you are planning.” L’Runa bent, gathered her skirt to her legs, and traced the pathway Wes had drawn, from the farmhouse to the area with the burial mounds. “Rose, look at this. Did you know we had an underland on this island?”
“I did not.”
“It is rare that something with the potential to devour magic would escape your notice.”
“I’ve been busy,” Rose said. She looked at me. “Calliope, a word?”
I followed Rose and L’Runa up the staircase to the second floor. Rose led us around the landing to a spacious work room filled with Abigail’s sewing projects. She cleared a stack of quilt pieces from the work table and gestured to L’Runa. “Let’s have a look at the soil samples Calliope collected.”
I went to stop her, thinking Rose’s timing was way off and the soil samples merely a distraction from where my attention needed to be. By the time a coherent objection was working its way from my brain to my mouth, L’Runa had unrolled a rectangular piece of absorbent paper. On it she had drawn a grid, and in each square was a clear brush mark. On top of the brush marks were dustings of soil, and most of the samples had spots of color. Watery reds, browns, blues, greens, and more.
“I first use a substance to hold the sample to the testing paper,” said L’Runa. “Once the sample has adhered, I brush a liquid over each sample that encourages the magic-based elements to separate. By elements, I mean grains of sand, bits of organic material, whatever the eye can and cannot detect.”
Her methods mirrored the ones I employed when testing soil for non-approved additives, minus the test tubes. Yesterday, L’Runa had hinted field work would
