then?”
There was no mockery in her tone, no condescension; she really seemed to believe he might have an answer, and after a moment’s thought Timothy found that he did.
“Then I’ll sneak back into town,” he said, “and look them up in the library.”
Linden looked at Timothy with surprise: She hadn’t expected him to volunteer his services-especially at such risk to himself. Had he decided to join her on her quest to find more faeries after all?
Thorn made a skeptical noise. “How’s that going to help? You can’t think some human writer is going to know more about our own people than we do?”
Timothy opened his mouth, but Campion spoke first. “Why not?” she said to Thorn. “You’ve never read the human legends about faeries, but I have, and you’d be surprised how often they were right about things we Oakenfolk had muddled up or forgotten. And,” she added with a touch of smugness, “there were male faeries in some of those stories, too.”
“All right, fair enough,” Thorn replied. “But Rob didn’t know how to find these Children either, and he’s been living in the middle of a big human city for years. So if he couldn’t find out anything-”
“Unless,” said Timothy, “he made the same mistake you’re making.”
“Oh, really. And what’s that?”
“Underestimating humans.” Timothy leaned forward across the table, his gray-green eyes intent. “If the Empress and her faeries believe they’re so superior to my people, of course they wouldn’t expect us to have any information that they don’t. And there’s another thing I noticed, though I didn’t think much about it at the time: Rob’s place didn’t have a television or a radio or even a telephone, let alone a computer. He’s probably consulted every faery book he could find, but I’ll bet you anything he’s never searched the internet.”
Thorn looked blank, and Linden was wondering how to explain, when Campion broke in excitedly: “That’s a special sort of library in a box, isn’t it, where you can get information from all over the world. Don’t Knife and Paul have it?”
Timothy looked discomfited, and Linden could guess why: He’d been counting on the faeries’ not knowing that particular detail. How could he explain to them that he’d rather walk all the way to the village and risk being caught by the Empress than go back to the House even for a few minutes?
“Yes, but Timothy can’t return to their place right now,” Linden said. “It would be too easy for the Empress and her people to find him there.”
Wink nodded, but Thorn looked unimpressed. “And you think he’ll be any safer here?” she retorted. “If the Empress’s lot can find Timothy in the House, there’s no reason they can’t find him in the Oak just as easily. Especially with our wards in such a sorry mess.”
Linden gave Timothy an apologetic look. “They’re right, you know.”
“I’m not going back to Oakhaven,” he muttered. “If your people don’t want me here, then I’ll leave-but I’ll just end up buying a ticket to Dover instead.”
Linden could think of nothing to say to that, and there was an awkward silence. At last Valerian rose and addressed Timothy in her calm, measured voice:
“Today you have given us both insight and hope, and for that we are in your debt. You have proven yourself a true friend of the Oak, and if we can do you any service, we will be glad to know of it. Nevertheless, we cannot allow you to remain here.”
Linden began to protest, but Valerian held up a hand.
“You meant well, I know. But think, child. You are exhausted, and the effort of casting so many spells has drained you even further. The moment you fall asleep, the glamour that has made Timothy our size will stop working. And what will become of us all then?”
The blood drained from Linden’s face, and her stomach flopped like a landed minnow. How could she have been so stupid? She’d been prepared to ignore the pain of her headache and keep casting whatever spells that might be necessary to keep Timothy safe, but she couldn’t stay awake forever…
“Indeed,” said Valerian gently. “So please, would you escort our guest to the door?”
“I’ve a better idea,” said Thorn, shoving her own chair back from the table as Linden struggled to rise. “The way she looks, she’ll probably faint halfway down the Spiral Stair, and then just think what a fine mess of owl pellets we’ll be in.” She stalked around the table and kicked the leg of Timothy’s chair. “Get up, human. You’re coming with me.”
Timothy shot Linden a desperate glance. “I can’t go back to Paul and Peri’s.”
“Then don’t,” said Thorn with a shrug. “East or west or down a fox hole, it’s all the same to me. Just as long as it’s out.” She turned to Linden. “I’ll whistle when he’s safely on his way, and you can take the glamour off him. All right?”
“All right,” said Linden dubiously. How Thorn intended to get Timothy out of the Oak without anyone seeing, she couldn’t imagine. But if Queen Valerian thought it would be all right-and by her silence it seemed she did-then who was Linden to argue?
Reluctantly Timothy got up from his chair. He followed Thorn toward the door, then stopped and turned back. “Er…there’s just one thing.”
All the faeries looked at him.
“What you said before, about being in my debt… Would you mind not telling Peri…I mean, Knife…that I’ve been here?”
The Oakenfolk exchanged surprised glances, and Wink positively glared at him. “What sort of bargain is that?” she demanded, but Thorn interrupted her.
“It’s not like he’s asking for the moon on a platter, is he? Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not a fair bargain. Go on, promise.”
Wink folded her arms and said petulantly, “Oh, all right.”
“Campion?”
“You have my word,” said the other faery, and Valerian gave Thorn an unfathomable look before adding, “And mine. Although it seems a poor way to repay Knife for all her service to us.”
“There,” said Thorn to Timothy. “Satisfied?”
Timothy nodded. He gave Linden a tight farewell smile, and followed Thorn out.
Linden’s shoulders slumped, and she stared down at her crumb-littered plate. She had so hoped that Timothy would stay, that he might even come with her to find the Children of Rhys. But now he was going away, and who knew when-or whether-she’d ever see him again?
“I don’t have magic, remember,” Thorn muttered to Timothy as he shuffled along at her side, barely able to see past the hood of the cloak she’d thrown over him. “So if we bump into anybody else on the way, you let me do the talking, and if I tell you to run, you run.”
“Run where?” objected Timothy. “We’re nine floors up. And I don’t have wings, remember?”
“Cheeky one, aren’t you?” said Thorn. “Just pick the nearest landing, up or down. If you can find a door that isn’t locked, go through it and don’t come out until I tell you. There’s so few of us left now, odds are there won’t be anyone on the other side.” She made a derisive noise. “A human in the Oak. Don’t know what Linden was thinking.”
“Speaking of Linden-” Timothy began, but Thorn hissed him silent. He grimaced and fell into step behind her as they trudged toward the Oak’s ground floor.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Thorn marched straight for the exit, but Timothy lingered, gazing up into the great tree’s vast, hollow heart. This would probably be the last chance he had to look at this incredible place, and he didn’t want to forget any of it.
“Come on,” Thorn whispered at him, tugging open the same door that Timothy and Linden had used to get in. Reluctantly he obeyed-only to have her grab him by the scruff of the neck and practically toss him outside.
“Up the ladder! Go!” she ordered, and Timothy scrambled upward, tripping on the topmost rung and tumbling onto the wet grass.
Thorn climbed up after him, then put two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “Well,” she said with satisfaction, “that’s taken care of you-and none too soon, either.” She spread her wings and flashed away across the lawn.
