Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) (22 page)

“Lord Stormcrow, that would be an excellent plan! It would give me time to meet my mother’s family, whom I know by name only.” I saw the naked need in her eyes.

I shook my head. I doubted she would get any answers about her mother that would satisfy her, but she surely had earned the right to them if she could get them. I looked at Jervalas Stormcrow who had followed this exchange with studied ignorance.

“I don’t want to offend you, Jervalas, but would you be willing to be swear by the Compact?” It was always risking asking something like this. The Fae are ticklish about honor and asking him to swear by the Compact could be interpreted as saying that I thought he might be a liar.

He smiled. “You’re a cautious one, I’ll grant you that. Well, I reckon I can swear that it just goes to my private quarters at the Court. They’ve been closed since I got sent out to the boonies. No reason anybody should be waiting for me. How formal do you need it be?”

“Never mind. If you are willing to swear, then there is no need for an oath. I’ll take your word as spoken.”

“Well, In that case, I reckon you better be off. Soonest done is soonest mended as my mam used to say!” Jervalas walked across the room and uncovered a six foot tall mirror with ornate scrollwork and little goblins laughing and cavorting in gilded wood. He must have noticed the expression on my face. “Horrible, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Well, it’s ugly but useful. Its lack of beauty is probably what got it sent here. In that, it and I have somethin’ in common!” He laughed. His expression turned more serious as he started a low mumble that I recognized as a short ritual designed to activate the mirror. The mirror was tuned to him and he was the only one who could operate it without having to realign it to a new owner. We would literally be putting our lives in his hands.

As he finished the surface of the mirror lost its reflective nature and clouded over. The mist in the glass cleared and a dark, still room appear on the other side of the now clear glass. 

Jervalas Stormcrow made a lavish sweep of his arm and a mocking half bow. “Right this way sir and madame!”

I stepped into the mirror and felt the familiar feeling of being squeezed through the glass and I stepped into the darkness and the unknown territory of the Court.

I arrived and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light that was filtering into the room from the heavy drapes that covered the windows. Before I could see much of anything Dalia came through. Her eyes adjusted more quickly than mine, another benefit I supposed, of being a full blood as opposed to a half blood.

Despite the fact that it was dark and a little musty, I could feel that almost indefinable quality that I always associated with the Court of Dawn. I always put it down to the magical feeling the in air making one feel better and more energetic. Some boffin that I met at the Silvertree told me that the realm of the Court of Dawn was “suffused with a high energy state” and “excited quantum and ether particles”. Whatever. All I knew was that I always felt a little on edge, like something was about to happen all the time. Some people like it I suppose. I always found it hard to relax and it made me wish I had my gun, even if it was mostly ineffective here.

As advertised, the place was a little dusty and it was obvious that whoever lived here was a little off. There was clutter, but it was organized efficiently, perhaps by relative bizarreness. A saw bits and pieces of things that looked like they came from the mortal realm. It was a collection that ranged from a 1946 Viewmaster to what looked like a lump of iron in the shape of a pug dog. It was an odd thing for a Fae to possess, about as weird as a mortal keeping a jar of concentrated sulfuric acid on the shelf above the door.

I crossed the room and opened the drape just enough to allow a crack of light to creep about the room and plopped myself on the dusty lounge which responded with an exhalation of dust. Evidently, Jervalas Stormcrow really didn’t use the place much.

Dalia was anxious, as she gracefully seated herself on a divan and looked regal despite her tattered clothing and bandages. Her entire posture screamed “What now?”

I thought about that unasked question for a moment and considered it. I would need clothes that didn’t stand out quite so much. Dalia could get by with a glamour. In general it was considered to polite for a fae lord or lady to make the glamour match what they were actually dressed in, but it wasn’t uncommon for someone to be different under the spell.

It would be more of a problem for me. Like I said before, glamours don’t always work on me or for me. I suppose a highly trained and powerful will worker could probably settle one on me with a lot of ritual work, but who knows how long it would it stick? Besides, I would need to do some legwork to get in touch with the kind of Fae that could not only do the work but would be willing to do it for pay. There isn’t a huge market or calling for that matter, for black market glamours at the Court of Dawn.

I went upstairs to his private chambers and let my sight unfocus a little and saw that there was nothing but a little alarm ward. I carefully wedged it aside and stepped under the ward and into the dark room. Apparently, internal security here was pretty light. I bet the outside was far more warded. Luckily, we were already in.

I opened the wardrobe and found an assortment of clothes that seemed to go with the décor. There were bits and pieces of clothing that were probably in fashion at the court a few years ago as well as World War II Army air corps flight jacket. I fingered the jacket and thought about my own experiences in the Europe.

With regret I let the jacket go and dug deeper in the oak wardrobe and pulled out various non-descript outfits that I thought I could wear. Non-descript for a Fae generally mean that it doesn’t have gold thread woven through it or isn’t gilded with emeralds.

Like most Fae he was a little taller than me, but I could work around that by tucking the pants cuffs into a pair of boots that I pulled out of the wardrobe. The shirt and jacket were more of a problem. The jacket I could carry and the shirt I could gather at the wrist. I changed into the clothes and glanced down. It wasn’t a perfect fit but it might do.

A quick search of the room revealed a jewelry box that contained a small selection of perfunctory adornments, really just the bare essentials for a member of the court. Jervalas Stormcrow was a Fae after my own heart. There was a hidden drawer in the jewelry case that contained something more interesting.

“Son of a bitch.” I murmured. Inside was a good size collection of service awards. I saw a couple of Service to the Crown stars in various metals and a couple of Majesty’s Thanks as well. The most notable was that he also had a few awards from the mortal realm as well including two bronze stars and a silver one and Distinguished Service Cross.  Paradoxically, there was an Iron Cross as well as a Croix de Guerre. The real surprise was a Hero of the Soviet Union medal. I wasn’t sure if I hoped that this was just a collection of souvenirs or if he had actually earned all this metal.

              Dalia came up behind me looked at me with a critical eye. “This will not do at all Jake. These clothes are no longer in style and will surely garner unwanted attention, if not for the style than the ill fit.” She went to the wardrobe and searched through it. Dissatisfied with her efforts Dalia went to a second wardrobe and begin digging through assorted pieces of cloth. A happy murmur told me that she had found whatever she was looking for as a blue cape designed to be worn the shoulder came arcing through the air at me.

              “Capes”, she began, “Are back in fashion. It will also help hide the ill fit of your clothes.” She continued to dig through the large wardrobe and pulled out a rapier in a fancy sheath. It was polished, black wooden sheath with a piano finish and gems inlaid in filigree silver near the hilt and tip.

“Can you use a sword?” She asked me like it was a perfectly ordinary question, as if it was quite likely that I would say yes, I can use one of those great big letter openers.

“No. They aren’t used much in my world except for ceremony so all I know is that the sharp end goes into the other guy, if you’re lucky. Guns let you kill people from further away so you don’t have to get all that sticky blood on your clothes.”

She nodded and drew the blade from the scabbard with a ring. She tested the edge “That is well. This is a blade for decorative and ceremonial purposes. The edge is dull, although it does have a point that with enough brute force you could manage to put it through someone.” She looked at my uncomprehending glance and continued.

“It is expected, as the son of noble, that you would have your own blade or the honor blade of your house to carry for the Naming day ceremony. No one in your position would be about with out a sword, a working one for those proficient in its use or a ceremonial one to avoid challenges.  At least, “ she paused, “ it is that way at the Court of Twilight. It may be different here.” Here eyes searched my face for confirmation.

“Yeah, you right. Now that I recall, I remember most Fey with these overlong pigstickers running around the court. I never bothered about it during my thankfully all too brief visits here. You’re probably right.” She deftly sheathed the blade and tossed through the air.  I strapped the belt around my waist and noticed that the sword seemed to be hanging in way that would make it hard for me to run if I had to. Dalia “humphed” and came to my side and rearranged the blade so that it hang at my side and attached a much smaller belt around my thing securing the blade so that it stayed in place when I moved. I was little embarrassed by the whole thing, but this was more her world than mine for all the fact that she was raised in the Court of Twilight.

“The nice thing about this blade is that it is a ceremonial one, you will not be called upon to use it. That is well, I think.” She smiled and I noticed that this little play amused her. She didn’t smile often, but when she did, it could make a cloudy day seem like clear day with an ozone warning.

“Funny. Very Funny. I promise that the cops back home would arrest me in a second if I routinely walked around with a sword strapped to my side.” I had to admit that I did feel a little silly, almost through that the sword did look pretty good strapped to my hip. Glancing in the mirror I could see that while a careful examination would probably notice the bad fit, at first glance, it looked pretty good. Given my druthers, I would have shown up in a pinstripe with a snap brim fedora, mainly because I didn’t care who I offended or how badly. But now I didn’t want any one noticing me until I was ready. Once that happened, I would be glad enough for the attention. I let my vision slacken for a moment and I saw that Dalia looked presentable and ready to go. She was wearing a plain smock under her glamour. It was serviceable and looked fairly comfortable. As my vision refocused I saw that she appeared pristine and beautiful in a satiny dress that displayed her body and yet hid all the important parts in a seductive way. There was a faint nimbus of yellow light that surrounded her hair and made it glisten like it had dew on it or diamonds. I pointed at the faint light, the question evident in my gaze.

“It’s the style. Not a halo but a crown of light. With my coloring, yellow is just right. At my age, it shouldn’t be showy, just highlight my looks and underscore my potential future prominence. At least…it would if I still had any future.”

“Hey. We’ll fix this mess, somehow. Besides I owe a few of these bastards a bloody snoot and I plan to make sure they get it. Once that’s cleared up, you should be able to go home.” I hoped I hadn’t lied to her. I knew less about the Court of Twilight than I did the Court of Dawn and I just wasn’t sure how much trouble she was in. Being forsworn was bad enough although it could be covered up with enough influence. But who knew how much trouble Jeryn Callisandra had caused since she left?

The door downstairs let us pass and I was glad to discover that it was mainly designed to keep people out rather than in. I felt a slight tingle as I passed through it, probably an alarm ward was letting the owner know that we were passing through. It was a one-way, automatically resetting ward so we wouldn’t be going back.

Once I got into avenue I tried to place exactly where I was. It had been a long time since I had needed to know which estates were where and who lived next to who and how far the estate was from the actual Court lands and all that kind of thing. I had only the vaguest notion of where my father lived and that was only good if I came in the gates I always used, not some random noble’s house. I should probably have asked directions, but I didn’t want to attract attention. Now I have heard plenty of women say that a man won’t stop and ask for directions. That just isn’t the case here. I was plenty ready to admit I didn’t know where I was, just not to anybody living here.

Looking up the avenue, I could see the street curving towards the monstrous mountain that was city and palace all in one. The Court of Dawn is divided into ten concentric rings that gradually climb up the base of the Court mountain. Each circle has its own ritual and meeting areas and apartments for when the full Court is in session or for when they have business to conduct. There are also private solons that cater to the noble and ignoble. At the top of the heap is Lord Belsoumnde’s Palace. Actually, it’s really called the House of Dawn, but it always gets named for the current Lord of the Court of Dawn, for at least as long as he lives. You might think that could take a long time considering how long Fae live, potentially for centuries, for a name change, but it’s a pretty dangerous gig. The longest reign on record is 1003 years. Next longest is 506 years. The shortest was 6 months. It had taken very long for Lord Achelmiad to have an “accident”, a fatal one, which precluded him from continuing his reign.

Radiating out from the Tenth circle were twelve roads that led to the great landed estates of the higher ranked Lords and Ladies of the Court of Dawn, like my father, Lord Stavros Melliscant, master of Lord’ Kareen’s Blight an estate named for distant ancestor’s unfortunate experiment with a magical insect, that while quite beautiful, turned out to eat like a pack of shrews. On these roads were the town houses of those who didn’t live at court. Usually these townhouses had minor lords and lordlings in waiting, second or third sons, disgraced nobles and of course, the servant classes. Of course some fine artisans lived here and there were even exiles from other places here as well. Out one of these long roads was my father’s manor. Luckily, I didn’t think we would have to trek all the way to the Blight. By custom, he would have to attend my naming day ceremony tomorrow and that probably meant that he was in attendance at either his townhouse on the 7
th
road, or the Road of Distant Opulence as it was known, or perhaps he was already in residence at his suite in the 4
th
circle. He was still considered a power at court despite being demoted from the 3
rd
to 4
th
circle, over what I had recently discovered was likely the scandal involving Dalia’s mother, my cousin.

That meant finding him would either be pretty hard or impossibly difficult. If he was in his rooms in the 4
th
circle there was almost no way of getting to him without a bunch of goons with little sense of humor knowing all about it. Getting arrested right now seemed like a bad idea to me. That meant that I had to hope that he was in the townhouse. The only problem was that I didn’t know where it was or how to get there. My best bet was to ask someone and that also seemed like a bad plan.

As we walked toward the Court Mountain, I considered my options. Dalia would have to do it. She was full blood and actually was raised at Court, just not this one. She should be able to get directions and was less likely to be noticed by any of the authorities that might be looking for a certain half blood son of a certain noble.