Street Fair (3 page)

Once the dishes were cleaned, Megan headed back towards her room, but then detoured. Knowing that her mother would be occupied for some time, Megan quietly headed for her mother's room, and the box of keepsakes hidden there. It was precisely as Megan had left it last time, which was exactly how she'd found it originally. As far as she'd been able to tell from the dust on it, it had gone untouched on the high closet shelf for over a decade, along with the old bass. That, much as she longed to, she couldn't touch, for fear her mother might notice it was disturbed, but the box, Megan was pretty sure, was practically forgotten. She shifted the carefully folded tour T-shirts aside, and started going through the CDs. Fourth one down, after looking through the songs, she found what she was looking for—one of the compilation albums included two songs recorded live at the Fremont Solstice Fair.

She was just starting to put things back the way she found them, aside from the borrowed CD, when a voice startled her enough to drop the CDs she was holding.

"Tsk, amateur. Not even wearing gloves."

"Ashling! Shhh!"

"You shhh,” said the tiny amber figure on the carpet, torn butterfly wings dangling from her shoulders. “Your mom can't even hear me. I'm like the wind. And possibly some other ‘80s power ballads."

“Did you walk all the way down the hallway?”

“More discreet than riding,” the pixie said.

“Waiting would have been even more discreet.”

“You'd be more discreet with my showing you how to sneak stuff.”

Megan quickly shuffled the CDs back into place and put the shirts back, then returned the box, trying to get out of the room in case her exclamation drew any attention from the kitchen, while Ashling continued mixing tips on breaking and entering with old song lyrics. Megan did hold on to the single CD, and she headed straight for her room with it after making sure the hall was clear.

Ashling's crow companion, the Count, was waiting patiently for them on the bust of Athena Megan had been given, crafted in Faerie for just this purpose. Lani had helpfully made a shelf for her next to the bedroom door. Her mother had questioned it, but mostly let it go the way she did many minor issues that Megan could reasonably describe as 'an art thing.'

"What are you doing here? Did my dad send you?"

“Yeah. Did you hear about the Market?”

“Yeah,” Megan said, fidgeting with the CD. “Lani told me.”

“But did she tell you about the animate piggy banks?”

“No. She mentioned moving paintings, though. That might be nice.” Megan stopped suddenly as she was putting the CD in the player. “Wait, why would I want an animate piggy bank?”

“Who doesn't like getting bacon for their loose change? And the paintings? Those're nothing. Wait'll you see the lamp exchange.”

Megan struggled slightly to regain a grasp of the conversation. “So Dad...?”

“Oh, yeah, he wants to ask you something. In person. So let's go tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Megan said as she put the headphones on, listening to the voice that was so much younger, but recognizably her mother's.

'Why is it Monday? / And how am I hungover from your laugh? / Why is it Monday? / And where did we get a balloon giraffe?'

The crowd went wild as her parents rocked out, when no one understood that something was burning away.

Chapter 4: Still New

An Teach Deiridh, The Last Home, lay in bright and golden sunshine, because it had been back under the reign of the Seelie court for nearly two months, but Riocard, the Unseelie King, still strutted across the front lawn like he owned the place to greet his daughter.

Once they actually reached each other, however, both their smiles got a little more strained with brief, awkward hesitation before finally they hugged.

“I
will
get the hang of that eventually,” Riocard muttered as they parted.

“S'okay,” Megan said. “We're new at this.”

“Yeah,” Ashling piped up above them. “Hugs. Court. Not enough practice.” From atop the Count's back, she shrugged her tattered Painted-Lady wings. “Speaking of practice, not much new to report on her studies, Sir, but they should be getting better now that there isn't school to get in the way.”

“Of course. Thank you for your efforts, Ashling, and for bringing her over for this visit.” The king also nodded to the crow. “Counts-to-18, you're looking well. There must be something to be said for Seattle's rat problem.”

“Caw.”

Riocard shifted a foot to look at his brown leather boots, then shook his head, coal-black hair falling behind his shoulders. “Thank you, but these are actually quite old.” The king looked back to Megan. “How...” and the awkwardness was apparently not yet over. “How is your mother?” There was nothing worried or brittle in the sidhe king's ice-blue eyes, just genuine curiosity—and perhaps an acknowledgment that a sad thing existed.

“She's Mom.”

“Ah. As she's been for some time, as I understand it. Let's get inside. How are
you
feeling about your magical progress?”

“Getting somewhere, I think. The winds and stuff are easiest, still. I keep practicing healing and inspiration, since Ashling says those are things most bards can do, but... uhm, it's hard to tell if I'm getting better or not. I don't really want to injure myself, and Ashling is enthusiastic at random times as it is. And..." Megan paused.

"And?"

"And it was getting easier in big leaps and things back in October and November, then it got a little bit trickier. And then Spring hit, and half of it was like starting over."

Riocard glanced at Ashling. "Seasonal affinity?"

The pixie nodded. "She takes before her old man."

Megan blinked. "Okay, so I sort of get it. Dad's all about Winter: snow, ice, and...uhm, Winter things. But shouldn't that be 'takes after'?"

"I said what I meant," Ashling said.

"What she means," Riocard stepped in, "is that you're an Autumn."

"Caw."

"Yes, Counts-to-Eighteen, she has numerous characteristics marking her as a Spring, and I'm sure she'd love to take you shopping as her fashion consultant for back-to-school. At the moment, however, we're discussing magic, not sweaters. And I believe there's some restriction or other about taking crows into shopping malls."

"Caw."

"Agreed." Then Riocard turned his attention back to Megan. "As my affinity is Winter, it sounds like yours may be Autumn."

"I am pretty good with the dancing leaves,” Megan said.

"Trust me, just the beginning. I'm sure Ashling will be happy to continue helping you, and we'll consider that a focus area for now."

Ashling nodded enthusiastically. "I'm good at focus."

Megan thought about responding, then gave up and looked back to her father. "How about you? With a little extra time on your hands, have you been looking over that list of people you were talking about?”

“No. I've never been the sort of man who was good at looking over lists. The rigors of choosing a new Seneschal are exactly the sort of thing I used to have a Seneschal for.” He frowned, and for a moment the only sounds were their footsteps on the smooth stone of the front halls of An Teach Deiridh and the flap of the Count's wings.

Then, Megan sniffed. “Oh my gosh, that smells delicious. Can I get some of those cinnamon rolls, Dad?”

“Certainly,” he said. “Stop right into the kitchen and ask. I'll wait in my room.”

Megan raised an eyebrow. “You'll wait?”

“I invite many kinds of trouble, dearest,” the king said. “The result of looming over brownies in their own kitchens does not happen to be among them.”

“Okay.” Megan headed into the indicated kitchen—and almost smack into a small tow-headed figure in baggy clothes. “Oh! Hi, Kerr!”

The brownie looked flustered. “Hi, Highness.” And there was that sort-of-bow, sort-of-curtsey again. Megan had known the brownie for nearly eight months now, and she was still slightly confused.

“So, uhm, I wanted to tell you that the cinnamon rolls smell delicious, and I was wondering if any were available.”

“Oh. Thank you. Yes, you can have one, of course.” Kerr scurried over to cut one from the cooling pan. “Is Lani with you?” Kerr asked.

“Thanks. No, she's back in Seattle with Mack.” Seeing that the ruddy little face looked slightly less cheerful at that, Megan added. “I'll tell her...” But talking about Kerr always felt complicated when Megan didn't even... “Look, Kerr, I'm sorry to ask abruptly, but are you a boy or a girl?”

Kerr shuffled slightly while handing Megan a small plate with the cinnamon roll on it. “Not really,” Kerr said.

“Oh.” Oh. Megan smiled. “Okay, thanks. I'll tell Lani you said hi. Hope we see you at the market sometime.”

Kerr smiled, then gave another little bow-curtsey. “That would be great.”

Ashling returned from whatever food had attracted the Count's attention, and they made their way into the 'Unseelie wing' of the castle. Megan had grown somewhat accustomed to everything from the thornvines to the sometimes macabre artwork. None of it spoiled her appetite.

When they reached the entwined-wood meeting table in the western tower, her father was waiting, as were two leopards curled up around the roots beneath it. Cassia, horned and hooved and bedecked in bronze that nearly matched her skin, leaned against a wall, apparently watching her cats lounge until Riocard got back.

“Hey, Megan. Ashling. Count,” the satyress said.

“Hey, Cassia. Maxwell. Jude,” Megan replied, crouching to scritch the latter just under the edge of his aviator helmet—while holding her plate high over her head with the other hand. “You're actually in Faerie for a change.”

Cassia grinned. “Your dad made it worth my while to hang out. We managed to have a good time in Faerie without even stabbing anything. You didn't bring Lani or Sir Blushes-a-lot?”

“They're babysitting.” Megan sat down next to her father and started properly on her cinnamon roll. “And probably making contingency plans for tomorrow while they're at it.”

“Makes sense. I'm definitely looking forward to playing both fairs. Maybe I'll do some shopping while I'm at it.”

“That reminds me, Megan,” her father said. “I should get you one of my bookmarks, let you do a little easy shopping.”

“You realize how weird that sounds, right?” Megan asked.

His eyebrow raised. “Well, someone's been taking her medication.” But he smiled as he grabbed a heavy leather-bound volume on the end of the table, opened it, and removed an old baseball card.

Megan managed to keep herself from reaching with sticky fingers. "So, you're saying that they'll take baseball cards as payment at this Goblin Market?"

Riocard shook his head and smiled. "No. I'm saying they'll take that baseball card as payment at the Goblin Market. You ought to be able to get just about anything you want for it."

"Uhm, I'm not sure I want to know, but exactly why is this one so special?"

Riocard chuckled. "The easy answer is this: it's one of my bookmarks. I'll want it back."

"How are they supposed to know that?" Megan asked as she licked a little bit of icing off her fingers.

"Trust me, they'll know. The merchants at the Market have a way of knowing the value of things."

“Okay,” Megan said. “I'll trust you on that. So, what did you want to ask me?”

“As Cassia said, she'll be playing both festivals. I'll only have time for one concert, on the Honored Guests' dais. I was hoping you'd join me.”

“Sure. Why wouldn't—oh. Is the Queen going to be one of the other Honored Guests? And her... guy?”

“We'll be joining Orlaith, yes,” Riocard said. “Her General Inwar hopes to make it as well, though he may be detained by his other responsibilities.”

“Isn't he her bodyguard or something?”

“He's certainly something, but he's served the role of bodyguard among his other security functions, yes. He has ever since he affiliated with An Teach Deiridh.”

“Affiliated? What, like the menehune? So he really isn't sidhe? Is that why he's so ...chilly?”

“As Ljosalfar go, Inwar has generally struck me as quite warm and compromising.”

“Leos-alf-har?” Megan attempted.

“Light-elves.” For once, Ashling's linguistic interjection was helpful.

“But indeed,” Riocard continued, “General Inwar is from Scandinavia. And, to wind about the digression, he may or may not be at the concert in the Goblin Market, but his Queen certainly will. So, Megan, will you join us on the dais?”

Megan sighed. “Well, okay. No hard feelings, after all.” That got a very approving smile from her father. Megan had picked up pretty quickly that he wasn't going to let a little thing like being set up to be betrayed and imprisoned, almost leading to a seasonal magical disaster, spoil a perfectly cordial professional relationship with the Seelie Queen.

“Okay,” Megan repeated. “Wouldn't miss it.”