A Sliver of Shadow (25 page)

The rickety stalls took a darker air, the cheerful little bug town slowly disappearing. Furtive looks and murmurings dominated the row. The colors bled dark and rich with a hint of seduction, but I could nearly taste the scent of decay beneath it all, like an overripe fruit. Probing too deeply here would surely reveal an underbelly of massively seedy proportions.

“So, Jimmy, why so eager to help me out? Not that I’m not appreciative,” I said hastily, trying to cover up my own discomfort. If I was talking I’d look like I fit in, right? “I’ll admit I wasn’t really expecting more than a lift.”

“Ah, well, ye have a touch of destiny about ye, lass.” He tapped his nose gently. “I can smells it, ye ken? But to be honest, I was hoping ye might use your connections.”

I stared at him blankly. “My what?”

“The Sidhe,” he said impatiently. “There’s a lot of bad blood between them and the lesser Fae these days … and with the CrossRoads shut down, there’s many of us with family stuck on the other side. The pointy-eared gits won’t tell us anything. Not to mention the lack of income. If ye truly are a changeling of the Sidhe …”

“I don’t understand. There certainly seems to be a brisk business going on here, if the crowd is anything to measure by.”

His snout wrinkled at my words. “Aye, but when the Queen banished us all from Faerie proper, it put a damper upon our way of life, if ye take my meaning. Not all of us enjoys sleeping on the road.” He gestured at the hive. “Those wee silkworms, for example. Used to spin the very silk the Queen herself wore … but now?”

I frowned at him. Had Talivar known about this? Surely if the Queen were that mad someone would have stepped in and prevented her from doing so? My silence must have stretched on too long because he shook his head a moment later. “I’m sorry, lass. I forgot you’re new to it all … but just, if ye could …”

“I’ll speak to Talivar.” I said the words without thinking, my mind still wandering over the possibility that the prince could have known and not done something about it. Or even Moira, for that matter. “When I see him again,” I added lamely.

Surprise flickered over Jimmy’s face. “Ye know the Crippled Prince? Truly?”

I swore inwardly at my stupidity. Nothing like giving away your hand before you’ve seen the ante. “Um. Yes. I guess so.” I neglected to mention that he was sort of my not-by-blood-half-brother. And maybe my almost boyfriend. “Is that an issue?”

“I would use caution about where ye tossed that wee bit of information about, lass.”

“I’m his TouchStone, actually. I was … trapped here.” Technically not a lie, since without knowing where the other Doors where, I had no real way of getting back.

“Aye, well, then that changes things,” he murmured, glancing down at my knee before taking my wrist in a meaty hand. The heavy knuckles were gnarled and broad, as though he spent a lot of time …
rooting
. “Come on.”

Bemusedly I limped behind him, letting him lead me through the crowd. “Changes things how?” I said aloud, my other hand sliding to where the dagger rested in my pocket. Not that I had any intention of actually attacking anyone, but I wasn’t planning on letting him possibly lead me to the slaughter either.

Run-down stalls of rotting wood and old cloth lined our
path. Someone had thrown down a series of thick planks on top of the filth in the gutter, a fact I was terribly grateful for. Bad knee or not, I’d take a little pain over slipping in shit any day of the week.

A goblin woman in front of us carried a slim basket full of blackened fruit, jewel-red juices leaking from the sides like blood. Jimmy nudged me when he saw me staring and I adopted a bored mien as he led me deeper down the row, taking us through a maze of twists and turns until I couldn’t tell which way we’d come.

My heart started beating a little faster as visions of being shanked for my shoes crept into my mind. “Where are you taking me?” I dug my heels into the slime-covered walkway. Jimmy didn’t answer, raising a finger to his snout.

“This way.” He released my hand, gesturing at one of the faded tents. A small bamboo fountain trickled aimlessly in front of the opening, its green sprouts looking terribly out of place. “Someone here who can help you find your way … and maybe do somewhat about your leg.”

A frown tugged at my lips. “I don’t understand.”

“The Crippled Prince has many allies here,” he admitted after a moment. “And I owe him money from the last time we played cards.”

I nodded gravely. The repayment of debts was taken very seriously among the Fae, and I knew I’d have to be careful of my words. Pulling the tent flap open, Jimmy slipped into the darkness and tugged me behind him.

The strong scent of ginger struck me hard, burning in my nostrils as I blinked through a wash of tears. Beside me Jimmy wheezed. Small wonder, given how much he’d gone on about how strong his sense of smell was. Why he wasn’t crouched on the ground crying was beyond me.

My eyes adjusted to the shadows, finding solace in a few burning candles perched on a low table, the wax tapers dripping
onto the tent floor. A hiss of fabric called my attention to the woman kneeling behind the table. She stared at me with a porcelain smooth face, her eyes crinkled with soft laughter. Fine red hairs upon her fox ears captured the flickering light, outlining them in a halo of gold. A kimono of brilliant buttercup silk was wrapped around her shoulders, a white obi belted at her waist. Kitsune, I observed from the hint of a white-tipped tail trailing behind her.

Jimmy coughed hard, his piggy eyes streaming. “I’ve brought ye a guest, mistress. She’s one of Talivar’s. I’ve got to go.” He gave me an apologetic shrug. “Allergies.”

The fox-woman smiled, lips closed. “I’ll see to it, Jimmy.” The words rang out in a crisp tone, clearly not meant to be defied.

Jimmy coughed again. “Luck,” he whispered and slipped out the front of the tent before I had a chance to ask him anything else. I felt a momentary sense of panic, wondering if I’d be able to find my way back to the wagon.

“Sit,” the fox-woman commanded, one delicate hand sweeping out toward a square pillow opposite from her.

I weighed my options for a moment and then carefully sank into the pillow. We sat there in silence, the minutes ticking by. Outside, the sounds of the busy street faded until it seemed as though the world had shrunk to only this little space. The candle flame guttered and I noticed a steaming cup of tea directly in front of the woman.

“I would offer you some, but you would not drink it.” She picked up the cup with both hands and sipped it slowly.

I raised a brow. She was right on that account, anyway. “No.”

“Why have you come?”

“I should think that was rather obvious,” I said dryly. “Seeing as you know Jimmy brought me.”

Her eyes flickered with impatience. “Why are you here?”

“What is your name?” I countered. Quid pro quo and all that.

“Kitsune is what you named me in your mind. That will do for now.”

“That is what you are, not who.” She remained quiet, sipping her tea as though I hadn’t spoken. I ground my teeth together. “I’m stuck,” I said finally. “I don’t know how to get home and I don’t know how to get to Faerie. I’ve got … a message for the Queen.”

She let out an eerie bark of laughter like a fox yipping and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. “The Queen, is it? I do not think you will find what you are looking for there.”

“Maybe not,” I said, unwilling to mention much more. It wasn’t her business anyway. Something warm brushed my face and I glanced down to see that a small cup sat before me now as well.

“Drink,” Kitsune insisted. “It’s a healing tonic. Very strong medicine.”

“And what? I become your slave for the next two hundred years? I don’t think so.” I pushed the cup away gently. “All I want is to find the Crippled Prince.”

She stared hard into her cup. “Are you sure that is all you seek?”

“Of course not,” I said wryly. I didn’t like the way she was twisting the request. “Besides, what difference does it make? The prince, a way out of here, and a chance to find the woman who betrayed us. That’s all I seek right now.” My thoughts tumbled over an image of Ion for a moment.

Kitsune reached down at her side and pulled out a small spool of red thread. “Destiny weaves as it will and the path to your goals may not be as direct as you’d like.”

I huffed a sigh and pushed to my feet. “Esoteric words of
wisdom don’t impress me. And I’ve had enough of destiny to last the next few lifetimes, so you’ll forgive me if I decide I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“You cannot outrun what is faster than you.” She thrust the spool into my hands. “When you leave here, simply roll the thread upon the ground and it will take you to your heart’s desire.” At my snort of disbelief, her ears flattened. “No one will bother you if you follow the thread. Interfering in another’s destiny is … unwise.” The last part was said with an exceptionally feral grin, her teeth clipping hard upon each word. I caught the faint outline of a fox muzzle overlapping her mouth, nearly superimposed upon her face, but it was gone before I could truly see it.

“And why would you do this? Help me, that is? Color me skeptical for not believing you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

“There are some here who would see the Crippled Prince upon the throne. Whether that is good or bad, I cannot say but I do recognize the Key when I see it, and I would not have it fall into the hands of someone who might force the issue.” Her golden gaze dropped to my neck and my face flushed. “It’s not nearly as well guarded as it ought to be,” she said, her eyes suddenly sly. “It could be that you’re not its true mistress.”

“Nothing I wanted to be,” I agreed. “And I thought Talivar couldn’t rule?”

Kitsune folded her hands neatly upon her lap, seeming to diminish before my words. “It all depends on which kingdom you speak of. As you will, then. May you find what you seek.”

I clutched at the spool and gave an awkward bow, unsure what else to say. When I looked up, a large vixen sat where she’d been, the grin still pasted eerily across her lips. She let out a soft yip.

“That’s what she said,” I muttered, emerging into the relative hustle of the Lower Crescent. The lingering scent of ginger chased me up the row like a mocking roll of laughter. I shivered, clutching my backpack a little tighter. At least it masked the fetid odor of dung.

I glanced down at my hand with the thread. Now or never I supposed. I stopped, waiting as a daddy longlegs shuffled by, ridden by a pair of pill bugs. Feeling like a complete ass, I took the end of the thread and tossed the spool onto the ground.

Where it did nothing.

“Fabulous.” Soft snickers came from the nearby stalls. Fuck it anyway. I’d find my own way to my destiny … whatever that was. Unless the spool was insinuating that it lay here, but judging by the way some people seemed to be packing up I had to wonder. “Just get me out of here,” I said finally, blinking in surprise when the spool jerked upright and began to roll forward.

Still holding the end of the thread, I limped behind it bemusedly as it picked up speed and disappeared into the busy crowd, slicing through the earth like a crimson sash. I hoped no one would step on it. Before long I was back where I started, but the spool didn’t stop there, slithering down row after row until I began to suspect it was toying with me.

I let out a snarl, frustration tensing my jaw. For a brief moment I wished I was still TouchStoned to Brystion. The incubus had always had a major talent for finding me before. I could have sat in that ’shroom cart all day and waited for him to sweep me into some sort of gallant rescue.

“Waste of time wishing for nothing,” I said to myself. I leaned heavily on my good leg, resting beside the last of the stalls. The thread was leading me toward a steep hill. A string of horses was tied to a series of poles below, surrounded by a primitive paddock. I was no judge of horseflesh,
but even I could recognize the sleek musculature shivering between the glossy coats as the sign of what could only be magnificent animals. I gave their backsides a wide berth, even while admiring the curved haunches and the smartly polished hooves.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said when the last of the spool ran out right before I reached the horses. Surely I wasn’t supposed to just steal one and Lady Godiva my way out of here?

“Brilliant creatures, aren’t they?”

I stiffened, glancing up in surprise to see Tresa standing beside me. She’d found some new clothes, or at least a new cloak, the sable wool wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She still looked the worse for wear, I noted with a tinge of satisfaction as I took in the tangled mess of her hair and the swelling bruise on her chin. Her cheeks pinched inward when she saw me looking. “I owe you for that,” she murmured, rubbing it with a self-conscious glare.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snapped. “You’re the reason we’re all in this damn mess.”

She let out a humorless chuckle. “Am I? It was not my idea to shut the CrossRoads down, nor mine to banish the Lesser Fae from Faerie. Ask your precious prince to tell you about the true extent of his mother’s madness. If not for
her,
none of us would be in this mess.”

“I doubt you’ve made things any better.” Reservation gnawed at my belly. She still seemed far too rational to be some mere revolutionary.

“There’s a war coming,” the Fae woman continued, “and there’s not a one of you who will be left standing by the time it’s through.”

“And I’m sure once Maurice gives you whatever he promised you this place will become a land of sunshine and happiness, right? Lollipop guilds and all? You’re the one
who’s mad if you think that asshole will give you anything other than a quick death.”

She looked away. “He has my son.”

Sympathy struck me at her words, but something still wasn’t adding up here. I understood the mama-bear concept fine—after all, if someone were to take Benjamin, there probably wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to get him back—and that was before I knew I was actually related. But still. “So you decided to betray your people? Besides, last I heard Maurice was still in prison. How could he have taken your son?”