Robert Charrette - Arthur 03 - A Knight Among Knaves (12 page)

It was a whole new life, and a good one. John saw little of Bennett, which was fine. He saw more of Faye—which was finer—and even more of his tutors which—with the new doors they constantly opened for him—was perhaps finer still.

He understood now that he had been born to magic; Bennett hadn't lied about that. And Bennett, the liar, hadn't lied about arranging for John to learn. John wasn't sure what to make of that, but he was sure that he was going to take advantage of it. He intended to learn all that was offered.

At last he was coming into his own!

There was, however, still a matter that disturbed him, a matter that Shahotain had finally agreed to address. They met in the place that John thought of as Shahotain's study, though there was nothing about the place that suggested any study John had known in the sunlit world. There were no books, no desk, no comfortable chairs, just four paneled walls, a planter filled with a riot of vegetation, a pair of intricately carved chests that served as seats when necessary, and a tiled floor of even more intricate and delicate decoration. The place seemed more suited to meditation than to study.

"This is untimely," Shahotain said, not for the first time, when John entered his study.

"You already said you would do it," John pointed out. "Besides, Bennett said the spell would be removed if I came to this place with him. I'm here, and it's been long enough. You're not wimping, are you?"

"I merely suggest that you reconsider."

John didn't want to reconsider. He wanted to be done with wearing a lie. Having his own face would be his first step in making his
life
his own. He was more than ready for
that.
"Let's do it."

Impassively, Shahotain nodded. With that, John felt the power begin to rise. He felt the energies that Shahotain manipulated and knew that an unraveling was being done, but he had little comprehension of the forces involved. Still, he knew the magic touched on him. How could he not comprehend the manipulation of energies so closely tied to himself? But he didn't—at least not fully—somehow the details escaped him. He felt a little like the time he'd watched a me-chanic work on one of the elevators in the rezcom where he'd grown up. He saw everything that the mechanic had done, but he hadn't understood the why of any of it. The ritual ended abruptly and Shahotain said, "You may look now."

John took the offered reflecting glass with trepidation. Shahotain had certainly done something. What, exactly, John wasn't sure, but he had felt no harm in his tutor's working. So why was he reluctant to look?

Foolishness.

He looked and saw the elegant arching of his cheeks, the subtle slant of his eyes, and the delicate pointed ears. There was no magic in the glass. What he was seeing was a simple reflection of his face. His true elven face.

"You did it," he said, touching his features to convince himself of their reality.

Shahotain shrugged. "A trivial exercise. You will soon be capable of similar work if your progress continues as it has begun."

"Is that the next lesson?"

"There is no lesson for you now. Go. I have other matters to attend to."

John went, having already learned that Shahotain's forbearance was far from limitless. A bogie met him outside the door with a summons to a training session with Loreneth the Lightspinner. The Lightspinner was educating him in glamours.

John shared such sessions with nearly a dozen young elves. He might have thought of them as his classmates, if they had been more friendly. For all that he was one of them, until now he had not looked like one of them, and appearances seemed to matter greatly in Faery. The other students remained aloof, apparently reluctant to spend any more time in his company than necessary, so John seldom thought of them. He was used to being a loner. Of course he wasn't really on his own. He had Faye to keep him company when he wasn't busy having the secrets of elven magic drilled into him. Let the others have whatever revels they went off to, he had Faye.

What would Faye think of his new face?

He would have to wait to find out, since at the moment he needed to respond to the Lightspinner's summons; she was no more forgiving than Shahotain. John let the bogie lead him. Having such servants around was extremely useful; the elven keep was extensive and, apparently, mutable, but the bogies always seemed to know their way around. John supposed that otherworld navigation was another Faery magic he'd be taught at some point.

John's arrival caused a minor sensation among the students. He might have been showing up for the first time. There was no time to deal with the interest on the part of the others, since the Lightspinner allowed none. She set them to work shaping phantoms of sight and of sound. Sometimes she let them choose the glamour they shaped and other times she set them to shaping a specific illusion. To John's surprise he earned a word of praise for his skill in emulating the nearly silent sound of an elven steed galloping.

After the Lightspinner concluded her lesson and departed, Duwynt approached John. Duwynt was the elf who had come at Faye's call to help against Quetzal, arriving in time to see John and Dr. Spae emerge from what had turned out to be a dragon's lair. Duwynt had used the incident to nickname John; it was the friendliest gesture John had encountered among his fellow students.

Duwynt bowed before he spoke. "Well, Dragon Baiter, it seems that you really are coming into your own. There had been some doubt."

"Doubt?" John echoed, unsure of how to respond.

Duwynt only smiled enigmatically and asked his own question. "Coming with us? Fraoch has composed a new chanson that she says is her best yet."

The other elves were watching John expectantly. Fraoch, fairest of the females and of a beauty to make Faye look plain, smiled dazzlingly at him. Previously she had not both-ered to look in his direction. Clearly he had crossed a threshold.

John found the sudden camaraderie uncomfortable. Their precipitate acceptance of him seemed based solely on his appearance. What was different other than that?
He
hadn't changed, just his looks. Why had their attitude changed?

He wasn't sure that he really wanted to know the answer. H
e
was sure that he wasn't ready to join them. "Shahotain set me a lesson to practice," he lied.

"Another time," Duwynt said without hint of regret or promise. He rejoined the others. Laughing and joking they left the classroom. John followed them out into the hall. The oth
ers
turned a corner, and, as soon as the last was out of sight, I heir voices vanished as though a door had been closed behind them. As it might have done. John didn't bother to go look.

He longed for the comfort of Faye's arms. She would make him feel better. But wait—Faye was born of Faery, as much as Duwynt and Fraoch and the others. Would her attitude change too? He didn't want to think it would, but he found himself in no hurry to find out. The keep seemed awfully confining of a sudden, and he wanted to see the sky above him with no walls around to cut off the view.

One of his privileges was the use of an elven steed, although he had been warned not to stray far from the keep. So far he had been too busy to go anywhere. Now he decided to take advantage of that entitlement and ride out into the countryside. He had no destination in mind, he just wanted to get away.

His steed was ready for him, saddled as if his whim had been anticipated. He shoved away thoughts of the implications. Such uncanny anticipation of his desires was another reason that he needed to get away. He mounted and rode through the courtyard and among the assorted Faery folk going about their business there. No one stopped him. No one even noticed him. Once through the gate, he was free of the keep. He urged his mount to a gallop.

Now that he was moving, he was tempted to keep going and to ride back to the sunlit world, but he knew that such a course wasn't open to him just now. What would he do there? He no longer looked human, and his appearance would raise questions wherever he went. Would Sue recognize him? What about Marianne Reddy—would she know the son she had raised? He could not go back until he learned the secrets of disguising magic so that he could appear in the sunlit world as he had before.

Appearance.

So much depended on it.

He had always hated the corporate prop and the way that the corporate spin doctors were always twisting the truth around, seeking to put a good face on whatever the suits did. They were always worried about appearance. Always lying. He'd grown up believing that lies were wrong. Now he'd been shown that his life was a lie, and the only people who could show him the truth were liars and the servants of the greatest liar he had yet met, Bennett. Life wasn't fair.

Fair?
Bear might have said.
Life has never been
fair.
Fair is for a man to be.

Bear hadn't exactly been fair, but that didn't make the sentiment any less valid. A man had to strive, and a man didn't always succeed. But then, John wasn't exactly a man, and he had the face to prove it.

His mount's course took him near the grove of trees that sheltered the magic pool. By intent? Was the steed responding to some unconscious urging from John? What did it matter? They were here. John reined in his mount. By the edge of the trees, he dismounted and entered the copse afoot.

The place was as quiet and tranquil as ever. Peaceful. He liked that, wanting to soak up the feeling until it filled him and forced out all his worries. He walked to the bank and looked into the pool. The reflection showed him an elf, by look and by dress. By appearance.

Was it really him?

He spent a good deal of time pondering that question without reaching a satisfactory answer. Slowly he realized that he was again experiencing the sensation of being watched. Try-ing to disguise his search by stretching, he looked around him. This time he saw something. A man, standing almost concealed in the shadow under the trees, was watching him.

John hadn't come here to be gawked at.

"I know you're there," he said, staring right at the man. "come out where I can see you better."

The figure started at John's challenge and shifted as if to flee. For a minute or so they stood in silence; the watcher's decision to flee suspended and John's challenge unanswered, John began to wonder if he'd been right to acknowledge the man's presence. Maybe he had broken some rule of Faery etiquette. Just when he was sure that the next move was up to him, the watcher took a step toward him.

The stranger emerged from the shadows. John got a good look at him for the first time and was shocked at the watcher's appearance. What he had thought a man was no man at all, but something of a mix between a man and a goat. From the waist up, the creature looked mostly human, with a man's hairy torso and arms and a drawn-out but manlike face sporting a long, scraggly beard; but from the waist down, the creature was a beast. Its legs were back-cocked and cloven-hoofed, making its walk a mincing prance. John was reminded of something he had seen in a vid on Greek mythology.

"Are you a satyr?" he asked.

The long face got longer as the creature's eyes narrowed and its mouth pursed. Its voice warbled. "There's no need to insult me. Though I suppose I shouldn't have expected else from one of your kind, should I?"

The strange creature started to back away, returning to the shadows. John didn't want it to leave, at least not before he satisfied his curiosity.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Please don't go."

The creature stopped its retreat and looked at him with large, mournful eyes. It seemed unsure, ready to flee.

"I didn't mean to insult you." John tried an apologetic smile. "It's just that, well, you look like what I always thought a satyr might look like. If you're not one, what are you?"

"I've always liked to think of myself as a
who,
not a
what,"
the creature said with a sniff.

"I'm not very familiar with the varieties of Faery folk. We've established that you're not a satyr, but what sort of being
are
you?"

"You've never seen an urisk before?"

"No."

"There is no surprise in the hearing of that. We are a solitary folk, not much given to involving ourselves in the affairs of the great ones. A mistake I make, most probably, even talking to you. But I've started, haven't I?"

"So it seems." John was intrigued by the urisk's mixture of boldness and diffidence.

The urisk nodded solemnly as if reaching a decision. "Call me Yuri, if it suits you."

"You're the one who should decide if it's suitable. I'm Jack."

"Jack? A great one named Jack? A laugh that is." Yuri brayed to prove it.

"What's so funny?"

Yuri's expression said that John was an idiot. "Jacks are human."

"I've always thought of myself as human."

Yuri blinked owlishly. "I suppose you have. Changelings do. For a while. In time you will get over it. They all do."

John wasn't sure he wanted to "get over" being human, especially knowing so little about the alternative. "What would you know about it?"

"Seen them before, haven't I? They come here, they do. To look into the pool. Like you did."