13 Curses (24 page)

Red followed him gratefully, urging her horse on a little faster to be free of the trees. They were almost on the border when Stitch’s horse suddenly reared up in terror. She saw him sliding from the saddle and gasped, but then he managed to grasp hold and right himself, bringing the frightened animal back under his control.

She stiffened as she saw what had made the horse rear up. Two figures stood silhouetted in the opening of the trees, blocking their exit from the woods.

Instinctively, Red tugged her horse’s reins to the left, preparing to head back into the woods at speed.

“Hold it!” Stitch yelled, before she could dig her heels in. He dismounted his horse and led it and the colt over to the two figures, waiting expectantly for her to join them. Slowly, Red brought the horse back around but stayed in the saddle.

“It’s all right,” said Stitch. “They’re not going to harm us.”

Red eyed the two strangers properly for the first time. The first was a young, dark-skinned fey man with gleaming golden eyes. Beneath a black hooded cloak, he wore an impeccably stitched suit of leaves.

The woman next to him was older, her coloring a stark contrast to the fairy man’s. Her ivory skin was
almost translucent, and her black hair carried the same oily blue-green sheen as her gown of ebony feathers. Red recalled Stitch’s account of the large black bird that had transformed into a woman before his eyes.

“You’re Raven, aren’t you?” she said.

The woman stared back at her, her black eyes glistening.

“It’s one of the names I go by, yes.” She motioned to her yellow-eyed companion. “And this is Gredin.”

Red stayed in the saddle. Stitch gestured to the grassy knoll they had been heading for before Raven and Gredin had found them.

“We’ve been traveling since daybreak,” he told them. “We were just about to rest awhile and eat.”

“Good,” said Gredin curtly. “We will join you. And then we can start thinking about how to get you out of this mess.”

They tethered the horses by the water and ate after Stitch and Gredin made a kill.

Raven had removed from her cloak a small, hedgehoglike creature, which was now snuffling for insect life near where Red was sitting. Red was unable to take her eyes off it.

“I can’t tell you its real name,” Gredin said, watching her. “But Tanya calls it ‘the Mizhog.’ ”

Red looked up into Gredin’s intense golden stare. Evidently Stitch had told Gredin about her connections with Tanya while they had hunted in the woods.

“I’ve seen one before,” she muttered, turning
back to the Mizhog. “It used to follow me everywhere before… the accident.”

Gredin nodded. “Your guardian.”

“My
what
?”

“Your fairy guardian,” he repeated, bemused. “All children born with the ability to see fairies have one.”

The Mizhog settled by her foot to chew on a worm.

“I didn’t know,” Red said. “It was just… there. I never questioned it. I don’t even know if it had a name. I never gave it a name of my own.” She gazed at Gredin. “If Florence was able to call upon Raven, then that must mean that Raven is…”

“Florence’s guardian,” Stitch interrupted.

“So, I’m guessing you’re Tanya’s guardian, then?” Red asked Gredin.

“Yes.” Gredin was watching her intently. “If it’s any consolation, she didn’t know about guardians until recently either.”

“So what does a guardian actually
do
?” Red asked.

“We protect our elected human’s best interests,” said Raven. “Those of relevance to the fairy world, that is. If we think a human will benefit from knowing more—or less—about the fairy world, then we endeavor to make it so.”

“How would we benefit from knowing less, though?” Red persisted. “Surely it’s better to know
more
?”

“Not if it leads to trouble,” Raven said, her
birdlike eyes fixed on Red in a penetrating stare. “We tried to shield Tanya from too much knowledge, yet she still managed to find certain things out.” The fairy woman’s tone was suddenly icy, and Red knew that her relation of fairy information to Tanya had not gone unnoticed, or forgotten.

“And look where it led her,” Gredin said softly. “Into a situation she thought she could handle, when really she had no idea of what she was getting herself into.”

“But Red’s fairy, this rodentlike thing,” Stitch interrupted hastily. “What happened to it?”

“It died,” said Red, shooting him a grateful look. “Protecting James from harm in the accident.”

“Protecting your best interests,” Gredin reiterated, then turned away dismissively.

Stitch recounted the events that had brought him and Red together. Much of it had already been told to Gredin on their trip into the woods, and so it appeared to be more for Raven’s benefit.

Red found herself distracted by the Mizhog. It had dribbled pieces of chewed worm on her trouser leg and was now licking at it frenziedly. Red dragged her soggy leg away, but the greedy little Mizhog trotted after it determinedly. She gritted her teeth and moved again, but the Mizhog looked up at her with such a mournful expression that she found herself moving her leg back and allowing it to continue its disgusting feast.

“We can get you out easily,” Gredin was saying to Stitch. “We know of an entrance we could use with
little chance of complication.” He cast a glance at Red. “With you, it’s not so simple. We could get you out, but you’d only get brought back again. When you traded places with Tanya, you effectively gave yourself to the fairy realm. To get out you must trade places with someone else with the second sight or arrange some other kind of bargain.”

“I’ll worry about that after I’ve found my brother,” said Red.

Gredin’s eyes gave away nothing, but when he spoke next, there was a measure of respect in his voice.

“Very well. Raven will take Stitch back to the manor. I will accompany you to the court. But be warned that I can have no sway over what happens there—I hold no power in the court. Once you’re there, you’re on your own.”

“No,” said Stitch. “I don’t think you understand. I’ve pledged to help Red now. I’m not going back without her.”

Red shook her head. “You’ve already helped me. You should go back.”

“I’m staying,” he repeated. “Whatever happens.”

Raven and Gredin exchanged a look.

“Then Gredin will guide you both,” said Raven. “I’ll return to the manor with the news that we’ve found you.”

Stitch nodded, a worry line appearing in his forehead. “Tell them that Nell is still missing too.”

Stitch and Gredin went over the map, discussing the quickest route to their destination. Gredin, already familiar with the realm, had little use for the map except to demonstrate to Stitch the best path for them.

Too soon, Stitch was looking up at the sky as he made ready the horses.

“We should get going. There’s still a long way ahead of us.”

They said their good-byes to Raven before her bird form took over once more. Then she was in the air, soaring above the forest, and gone.

They mounted their horses, Gredin leaping lithely onto the third. His golden eyes narrowed as he surveyed the landscape, and then they moved off onto the open land, the fey man slightly in the lead and Stitch and Red on either side of him.

Miles of nothingness stretched before them, only green hills and a ribbon of road threading through it. They headed for the road, heads down against a rising wind. There was little conversation; Gredin was not a companionable guide. Soon the sun was gone, enveloped by murky rain clouds. Red threw the fox-skin coat around her shoulders but did not fasten it, instead holding it closed with her hand. When the rain started, the coarse fur kept her dry and warm, and beneath the pointed ears she dipped her head to keep her face out of the wind.

Through the wind hissing past her ears, she heard Gredin shouting for them to move faster.

Her thighs burned with the effort of staying on the horse. Dirt and grit flew up from the horses’ hooves and, though she stayed quite dry, soon she began to tire. Onward they rode in what felt like the longest journey of Red’s life.

The first sign of shelter was another traveler on the road, coming in the opposite direction. It was a carriage, drawn by two horses that were foaming at the mouth.

“Whoa!” Gredin cried, slowing his horse and moving to one side to allow the carriage by. As it passed, Red glimpsed the coachman. At first sight he looked almost human, yet as her gaze traveled down she saw that one leg ended in a wet-looking frog’s foot that was splashing happily in the water sliding across the coach’s wooden surface.

“Over there,” called Stitch, pointing farther along the road after the way was clear once more. Red looked through the sheets of rain. Beyond, there was the faint outline of a town.

They drew nearer. With darkness descending, it was plain that they would be resting here for the night.

“Stay behind me,” Gredin warned. “Do not accept anything to eat or drink without my say-so, and let me do the talking.”

Shabby cottages of wood and stone fringed the town. In one or two places a wooden door in a rocky face or a hole in the ground belied the dwelling of some fey creature. The gravel road gave way to
cobblestone, and farther in, the buildings knotted together to form streets and alleys. Much to Red’s surprise there were even little shops nestled in-between.

Gredin halted outside an inn.

“Wait here,” he told them, sliding neatly off his horse and vanishing through a wooden door that was at least a head smaller than he was.

While she and Stitch waited for him to return, Red peered up at the building. Hanging from the wall was a faded sign displaying the name of the inn: T
HE
P
AUPER’S
P
LATTER
.

When Gredin reappeared, he was accompanied by a goblin less than half his height with an enormous nose. Taking his horse’s reins from Stitch, Gredin beckoned as the goblin innkeeper hurried around the side of the building.

“Leave your horses here,” the innkeeper grunted, pushing open a high, wide door that led into a stable. “They’ll be looked after.” He summoned a stable-hand with green-tinged skin as they dismounted and then made their way back out to the inn door.

“The rooms are small, but they’re warm and dry,” their goblin host continued, ushering them through. Once inside, he left them.

The inn was dimly lit and the air was thick with an herby smoke. Red kept her head down but took in her surroundings from out of the corner of her eye, careful not to meet anyone’s gaze. At the center was an ancient tree, its trunk so stout that Red suspected
that even if she and Stitch and Gredin were to join hands they wouldn’t be able to meet around it. Its branches curved and dipped overhead, and from some of the branches lanterns glowed.

On the floor there were places where the roots had pushed up through the ground; the stonework floor had been laid to accommodate them, and in one or two curves of the exposed roots, fairies sat while they supped at their ale.

“Take a seat,” Gredin said, gesturing to a darkened nook. “I’ll collect our keys, and something to eat and drink.”

Red and Stitch slipped into the space to sit on either side of a small wooden table. It was enclosed by a partition of low-hanging branches. They sat in silence until Gredin returned. Red could tell that they had attracted a few curious glances already—but whether it was because she and Stitch were human, or merely strangers, it was impossible to say. When Gredin came back, he placed three keys on the table and sat down.