The Prince of Two Tribes (7 page)

“And then what?” she demanded. She was leaning forward, her tea forgotten.

“Well … ” Brendan shrugged. “I kind of … yelled at it with my mind. I woke it up and asked it to help me. That’s when that crazy tree grabbed Greenleaf. You know the rest.”
²⁴

Kim’s head snapped toward Greenleaf. “I thought he made the roots grow around you. That is possible with the Green Art.”

“No,” Greenleaf said. “He didn’t cause any new growth. I believe he spoke to the tree itself.”

“But … ” Kim was flabbergasted. “That’s impossible!”

“I saw him do it,” Greenleaf insisted. “Furthermore, I don’t believe he merely spoke to the tree. I believe he Compelled the tree to protect him.”

Kim stared, her mouth open in surprise.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Brendan interjected. “What’s the big deal? So I talked to a tree. So what? I talk to birds and bugs and stuff. What’s the difference?”

Kim leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “There’s a big difference. A huge difference.” She sighed, frowned, and looked around the room. At last, she grinned and reached up to unhook a hanging ivy plant from its place above the table. Setting it on the tabletop, she lovingly ran her fingers through the trailing leaves. “The Green Art. An adept can use it to influence plants. That means I can change growing things. I can make them grow.” She laid a hand on the handle of her field hockey stick while closing her eyes. As Brendan watched, the ivy began to sprout and grow. Tendrils of vine wrapped themselves around her fingers. It was like watching the time-lapse films of growing plants they showed on the science channel. New stems unfurled from the pot. The stems sprouted new leaves, and within a few seconds, Kim’s hand was completely covered by a drapery of new growth. “I can make them die back.” The leaves began to curl and shrink. The stems shortened and disappeared. The plant withdrew into itself until only a single branch sprouted from the top of the pot, drooping forlornly into space with a scraggle of yellowed leaves. “That’s about as far as it goes. I can make plants grow, cultivate them, and even heal them. That’s what the Green Art is in a nutshell.”

“So?” Brendan was still confused. “What’s the point? That’s what I did, isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” Kim said emphatically. “
You talked to the tree!
You just don’t understand the significance of what you’ve done.”

Brendan didn’t know how to react. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing at the time—he’d just done it. Ever since he’d first learned of his true identity, he’d been experiencing similar things. He heard the voice of the wind, and sometimes plants and trees, and there had been the weird incident with the Snoring Rock, too.
²⁵
He was about to open his mouth to tell them about how the rock had spoken to him, but something made him keep quiet. They were already freaking out about the tree: he didn’t need any more grief at the moment.

“So, I don’t understand,” Brendan grumbled. “What’s new? I’m in a state of almost permanent confusion.”

“You don’t get what we’re saying,” Kim insisted heatedly.

Greenleaf laid a calming hand on Kim’s arm. “How could he? He hardly knows what he’s doing. He hasn’t had the benefit of growing up with his powers the way we all have.” Greenleaf turned his attention to Brendan. “Brendan, a gift like yours is vanishingly rare. I’m not sure if anyone has ever had the ability to speak directly to trees. Not since the old times. Perhaps Pûkh … or the Old Man.”

Brendan sat up. “Who? And Who?”

Greenleaf frowned, a cloud crossing his features. “Pûkh is one of the Ancient Faeries, born before the Pact was struck, and a leader of the Dark Ones who fought to enslave the Humans. He was given the choice of imprisonment or surrender. He chose surrender and founded a realm he called Tír na nÓg, the Everlasting Lands. He lives there with other Fair Folk who dislike living among Humans.”

“And the Old Man?” Brendan prompted. His mind went back to the old Faerie he’d seen just a moment ago.

“Let’s not dwell on the past. Suffice it to say that according to legend, the True Ancients had the gift. They were in tune with the universe in a way we aren’t today. Much has been lost. You appear to have a sensitivity. Nowadays, the trees have retreated so far into themselves that they have become impossible to rouse. Today, you seem to have reached in and woken that tree up.”

Brendan groaned. “Oh great! Now I’ve done something else that makes me weird. Y’know, I thought I was a misfit in the Human world. Here’s another excuse for me to stick out like a sore thumb in the Faerie world, too. Will I ever get a break?”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, can you?” Kim said, shaking her head.

Greenleaf chuckled. “Believe me, every Faerie would give anything to have your problems. Seriously, you have discovered an amazing new gift. You mustn’t feel that it’s a bad thing. Unfortunately, we will have to work much harder if we hope to have you ready in time.”

Brendan stopped in the middle of spooning whipped cream out of his mug. “In time for what?”

Kim and Greenleaf exchanged a glance. Kim shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough. We wanted you to concentrate on your training and not worry about anything else, but you might as well know: a Gathering of the Clans has been called.”

“A gathering?” Brendan frowned. “What does that mean?”

“The People of the Moon are divided into Clans, descended from the first great tribes of the Fair Folk. Every few decades, a Gathering is called. Faeries come from all over the world to tell stories, share news, and compete in Contests of the Arts.”

“Like the Highland Games?” Brendan asked. “You throw logs and dance over swords and stuff?” Brendan had gone to the Highland Games in Fergus, Ontario, when he was a child. He remembered a lot of men in skirts, some of them throwing logs.

“A bit like that,” Kim agreed, then shook her head. “And nothing like that. Some of the most brilliant Artificers come. The Artisans’ Fair is pretty incredible. But there’s one major thing you need to worry about … ”

“I knew this couldn’t be all good,” Brendan said glumly.

“There’s been a lot of debate about you in the Faerie world,” Kim explained. “You’ve been quite a hot topic.”

“Oh.” Brendan brightened. “That doesn’t sound so bad. It’s nice to be popular.”

“I didn’t say popular. I said that Faeries were talking about you a lot. There’s some debate among our people about whether your initiation was valid.”

“But Ariel accepted it!” Brendan cried. “Isn’t he the big cheese around here?”

“Around here, yes,” Greenleaf replied. “But there are many more cheeses of the same size or larger around the world, and some of them insist that he was negligent. He didn’t witness the initiation. You came back to us fully fledged, and we had to accept your story.”

Brendan didn’t respond. He’d never told anyone what had happened, how his Faerie father, Briach Morn, had come from the Other Side and performed the initiation. He’d kept that to himself. Now he was going to suffer for that choice.

“So what does this mean for me?” he asked.

“The Council has decided you must be tested,” Greenleaf said. “You will go through a Proving, a series of Challenges to determine if you are truly one of us.”

“And what if I fail these Challenges?”

“I wouldn’t advise you to fail. You’d end up as an Exile, doomed to live on the fringes of our society. Like Finbar.”

Finbar was now living at the Swan of Liir on the Ward’s Island, doing odd jobs until Ariel decided whether he should be reinstated as a Faerie. Finbar had lost his Faerie status when he’d revealed his true nature to a Human, a woman he’d later married. He’d lived in Exile for almost two centuries, until the opportunity came through Brendan to appeal for a return to the Faerie world. Now he waited in an agonizing limbo.
²⁶

“That
sounds bad,” Brendan groaned. “That sounds really awful.”

Greenleaf finished his café au lait and placed the bowl lightly on the tabletop. “Come, come! You have no need to worry, Brendan. I’m sure you will pass the tests with flying colours, once we get past the mental block you seem to be building for yourself. I must admit, I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and I’ve had my fair share of pupils.”

Brendan slumped forward, his elbows on the table and his chin on his fists. “I can’t help it. Whenever I try to use my gifts, it’s like I can’t concentrate hard enough. Somehow, they don’t seem real to me. If I hadn’t done that thing with the tree today, I’d think I didn’t have any abilities at all.”

“I’m sure we can overcome this obstacle.” Greenleaf smiled. “You are a most extraordinary and sensitive person. That is both your strength and your weakness. You think too much about what you are doing and how it will affect others. At this point in your training, you should worry only about yourself.”

“Things would be a lot easier if you weren’t around those Humans you call your family,” Kim pointed out.

“Well, I’m staying with them and that’s just the way it is,” Brendan snapped. “They are my family. I don’t care if they’re Human or Faerie or monkey. They’re mine, so get used to that.”

Brendan’s Human family was always a bone of contention. His father and mother had adopted him as a baby, thinking he was no different from any other infant. They’d raised him and loved him as their own. Though he’d come to learn they weren’t his real parents and he wasn’t Human at all, they still held the place in his heart that true parents should. Many Fair Folk insisted that he cast them aside, but he refused. Although trying to live in two worlds was difficult and perhaps ultimately impossible, he loved his family and couldn’t leave them behind—even his sister, Delia, who made his life a constant trial.

“Peace, please.” Greenleaf raised his delicate hands in a placating gesture. “Ki-Mata, we must respect Brendan’s wishes and his choices. If Ariel allows it … well, let’s just say he’s wiser than either of us can ever hope to be.”

Kim leaned back until her chair bumped against the wall. Crossing her arms, she chose not to reply. Brendan glared at her. She glared back.

“I know what Ki-Mata said is distasteful to you, but she does have a point, Brendan,” Greenleaf continued. “You face challenges that most Faeries have never had to deal with. Most Faerie children grow up knowing of their powers and exercising them daily. Their powers are second nature to them by the time their initiation ceremony comes around. Yours, however, were suppressed by powerful magic. Your father made sure you would seem in every way to be Human, and so you are unfamiliar with the very essence of yourself. That’s a large mountain to climb.”

“Can’t I just wait until the
next
Clan Gathering?” Brendan asked hopefully. “By then, I’m sure I’ll have everything under control. I’ll totally kick ass in the tests.”

“Sadly, that’s not an option. The Council would not bend on their ruling. The Proving will take place at the coming Gathering. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

“We hope,” Kim said softly.

Brendan felt his stomach sink. “Thanks for that. You really know how to make me feel good.”

Kim winced. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about … ”

Suddenly, the tabletop jumped as something struck it from below. The cups rattled with another impact.

“What the … ” Brendan began.

A streak of light shot out from under the table. BLT corkscrewed into the air like a miniature stunt plane, smashing into a hanging plant and setting it swinging wildly.

“BLT, stop that!” Brendan cried. “Have you been eating sugar?”

“Found a couple of chocolate chips under the TAAAA-BLE!” BLT shrieked happily as she dive-bombed table after table.

“That’s all I need,” Brendan groaned.

²³
 One good thing about being a Faerie was that Brendan could alter his Human guise. It was better than Clearasil!

²⁴
 Please, unless you are a Faerie, do not yell at trees. One: people will think you are odd. Two: they are very hard of hearing. You’ll end up with a sore throat. Three: if you do manage to get their attention, they’ll talk endlessly about itchy bark and acorn fungus. Bo-ring.

²⁵
 In Book One, Brendan had a strange experience with a large black rock that graced the front lawn of Lord Lansdowne School. He swore he could hear the rock snoring, hence his name for it, the Snoring Rock. I hope you are reading these footnotes as there may be a quiz later.

²⁶
 A state of being neglected or simply left awaiting some kind of decision. Not a dance involving a bamboo stick and a bongo drum (although limbo dancing
can
be agonizing).

HOME LIFE

By the time Brendan took the streetcar along College and arrived back home, it was already past three. He’d had to wait while BLT came down off her sugar high and passed out. She’d slept in his jacket pocket all the way home. He trudged up the steps and reached for the door handle.

“So, this is where you live?”

“Whhaa?” Brendan leapt like a scalded cat.

Charles was sitting in a wicker chair on the front porch. Brendan’s father hadn’t gotten around to taking the chairs down to the basement for the winter. She was curled up, her legs tucked under her, watching him. Her big violet eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

“It’s a cute little house,” Charlie said. “I like it.”

“What are you doing here?” Brendan demanded. “This is my family’s house. It’s off limits.”

“I just wanted to talk to you again. See if you’d changed your mind about being such a stick in the mud.”

“Well, I haven’t. So buzz off.”

“You are a very rude boy.”

For some reason, being called a boy was extremely irritating. He glared at her, summoning his will, and said, slowly and clearly, “Leave me alone.”

She stiffened. Moving jerkily like a broken puppet or a faulty robot, she stood, tottered across the porch, and stumped down the steps.

Brendan sighed with relief. He’d done it! He’d Compelled her!

No sooner had he thought that than she laughed and did a little jig at the bottom of the steps. “Nice try! You’ve got some power, I’ll admit that.” She smiled and curtseyed prettily, holding out the edges of an invisible dress. “I’ll go, then. But I’m not giving up. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” With a little wave and a wink, she headed off up Montrose Avenue.