Part Three: The Winds of Buyan

In which Sarah and Jareth meet the Winds, learn potentially useful things, and make an appointment.

The adaptive tesseract we made to Earth's moon landed us smack dab in the middle of a picnic set up in a shady wood. It appeared the picnic goers had wandered off.

I blinked and took a careful breath. Fresh grass and running water, with a hint of fennel and lime. "Are you sure this is the right place, your Grace? It doesn't look much like the moon."

Jareth inhaled deeply, then smiled. "Perspective is everything. Adaptive tessering adapts a lot of things."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Use your Dreamer sight if you want to see for yourself."

I flicked my sight on and got an image ghosted on top of the woods: gray, barren rock and endless sweeps of dust against velvety black space, with the blue-green jewel of earth hanging lonely against it. That looked much more familiar. Even if there was that odd flickering, like frames of a movie spliced in. Some of the frames had the lush woods and some had other things entirely, but the non-woods ones splintered too quickly for me to recognize them. "Do I dare ask how this works?"

Jareth grinned. "Short version or long?"

"Short. There are Winds waiting. Somewhere." I snapped my Dreamer sight off and began scanning the area for something Wind-like and consultable.

"Mmm...what do you know about superimposition in quantum mechanics?"

I raised an eyebrow, still looking for the wayward Winds. "This is the short version?"

"Well, let's put it this way: things existing in multiple states at once is a truism about the universe. Buyan - the moon entire, really - exists in at least two states: the woods we see now and the more familiar unassuming rockscape. Conscious perceptions get tuned to one, but adaptive tessering will tune them to another."

"Uh huh. So you're telling me these woods are always here but my consciousness typically filters them out?"

"More or less."

I shook my head. "Note to self: read more about quantum mechanics and consciousness."

"A fine plan," a bright voice behind me said approvingly, accompanied by a quack.

I jumped and turned around. The bright voice belonged to a man dressed in a thousand shades of green with a decidedly steampunk bent, including his velvet riding jacket, his gloves with their gleaming buttons, and his satin top hat with its riding goggles perched jauntily atop. He sat on a fine-looking motorbike that seemed to have far too many knobs and levers, as well as a duck perched on the handlebars. The duck was green, too.

He smiled and tipped his hat. "West Wind, at your service." The duck quacked again, looking vaguely affronted. "And Waddles." The duck look mollified. "You must be the Blackstar's lot."

Jareth recovered before I did. "Indeed. Pleased to meet you, my Lord. I was quite fond of your predecessor."

Some hard emotion shaded the West Wind's eyes. "As was I. Tricky business, all of this passing of mantles."

My ears perked up at that. "You have mantles too?"

The West Wind shrugged as he parked his bike. "Doesn't everyone?"

"All the best people do," said another voice, floating above the West Wind's voice like the rainbow film of a soap bubble. A teenage girl danced into view, dressed from head to toe in fluttering ribbons of blue. Her shadow was a sultry indigo that fragmented into opalescent fish. The fish swirled around her and blinked at me and Jareth with twinkling turquoise eyes. "Oh! It's you. Hello."

Jareth made a courtly bow. "My Lady North Wind. Lovely to see you again."

The North Wind's laughter pealed like tinkling bells. She grabbed Jareth's hand and held it up to her nose, sniffing it experimentally. Her shadow fish swarmed and then darted to me.

I resisted the urge to swat them away, but just barely. We needed the Winds' help and it never paid to be rude off the bat.

The North Wind dropped Jareth's hand abruptly and poked at the air between Jareth and me, tilting her head from side to side. "It's a good braid. It'll do."

I assumed she was talking about the connection I shared with Jareth. Or the alliance with him and the Blackstar. Or maybe something else entirely. I smiled tightly. "Glad you approve."

"Oh, look who's got a bee in her heroic bonnet!" jeered a sharp female voice from behind me.

That must be the East Wind. I turned to greet her.

Her crimson tailored suit looked like it was straight out of Neiman Marcus and was in stark contrast to the rural setting around us. Also, I had no idea anyone could actually walk in heels that high. Certainly not in this terrain.

The East Wind arched a perfectly plucked black eyebrow at me. "Tell me you drink espresso or I'll give up all hope for you right here and now."

Jareth smiled wryly and nodded his head to her. "Always a pleasure, my Lady. May I present Sarah, the Summer Court Champion. Sarah, may I present the East Wind. And we all enjoy a good latte."

The East Wind waved her well-manicured hand irritably, the vermilion lacquered nails splaying like poison daggers. "Fine, fine. Sit down then." She turned to an espresso machine that had appeared in the foliage behind her and began brandishing levers and small containers of things. The West Wind crept up behind her, reaching for a container of milk. She smacked his hand away without turning around. "I said sit down. That means you, too. Unless you don't actually want yours."

Waddles let out a plaintive quack.

The East Wind snorted and simply pointed to her right where the picnic blanket was laid out. Waddles and the West Wind headed over with equally chastened expressions. The North Wind was already sitting there in lotus position, the blue ribbons of her dress floating behind her as if pulled by some invisible current. She patted the spaces next to her.

Jareth and I looked at each other, walked over, and sat down.

The West Wind blew on his fingers, where green flames appeared before winking out. "So, small talk while we wait. It falls to me, I suppose."

Waddles let out a mournful quack.

"I know," agreed the West Wind. "Hardly fair for anyone. I'm wretched at small talk. But such are the obligations of hosts." He blew on his fingers again, focusing on the green flames. "And I'm best suited from our brotherly trio." His eyes flicked to me, waiting.

Okay, I'll bite. "Why brothers when you're the only male?"

The West Wind held up his forefinger, letting the green flames condense into three stacked on top of each other. "Tradition. It began with three brothers and the titles stuck with the mantles."

I tilted my head. "I assumed the title was just the Wind part."

"Assumptions," interjected the East Wind as she placed a mug in Jareth's hands, "and asses," she continued as she placed another in mine. "You know what they say about those." I caught the edge of her smirk as she turned back to the espresso machine.

I sighed and sniffed my latte. It smelled divine, even though I was already over-caffeinated from the Blackstar's mint tea and my own humbler tea earlier. "Is she trying to provoke me deliberately?"

Waddles quacked ruefully and the West Wind smiled. "It's her way."

I considered this for a moment. "By nature or because of her mantle?"

The North Wind blinked slowly with a shadow fish hovering just in front of her left eye. "Both, of course. You can't assume what's not already in your nature."

I tried to parse the layers of meaning buried in that while the East Wind finished making the rest of the drinks, brought them over, and sat down across from me. Her eyes positively gleamed with snark.

When in doubt, be polite. I took a deep pull of my latte. "This is excellent. Thank you."

The East Wind's lips flickered briefly. "You're here for consultation. So start consulting. We haven't got all day and neither have you."

The espresso buzzed against my lips as I glanced again at Jareth and searched for where to start. He gave me a noncommittal expression. Great.

The East Wind rolled her eyes. "Useless."

"Now, now," said the West Wind, tapping his pointed boot toes together, "give them a moment. They're just being polite."

The East Wind snorted into her latte. "That's what I said."

Aaargh, enough. "We're here about Koschei and where he keeps his soul fragment."

"Soul fragment?" The East Wind laughed. "Is that what you're calling it?"

I felt my jaw clench. "What do you call it?"

The North Wind's voice wound gently around me. "Oh, it doesn't really matter what we call it." She dipped a finger into her latte, pulling out a snowy layer of foam. "The East Wind knows that. It's just in her nature to bite."

The East Wind raised both her eyebrows and snapped her teeth at me.

Hmmph. At least she made good lattes. I drank more of mine and forged on. "We know it's on Buyan, and involves a needle in an egg in a duck in a chest under an oak tree. Do you know the whereabouts of any of these?"

Waddles nudged my fingers and tried to pull at a strand of my hair that was coming loose from my bun.

I looked a Waddles for a long moment. Waddles was a duck after all, possibly a she-duck with an egg. And the East Wind's smirk had gotten noticeably wider.

"Lovely hairpin you have there," said the West Wind in a helpful tone. "Waddles is such a nice girl for pointing it out."

I blinked at him as Waddles pulled at more of my hair.

The East Wind rolled her eyes. "If she were any slower, she'd be moving backwards."

"Not yet," interjected the North Wind. "That's later."

I looked at Jareth for help and he raised his eyebrows encouragingly. Okay, then. The clue-by-fours had officially been dropped. I brushed Waddles gently aside and pulled the Blackstar's gift hairpin out, holding it in front of me so the light fell on it.

The needle shape was more apparent now, and the end with the hole in it was definitely rounder than the other. I could make out small lines of filigree on the round part, which reminded me of the looping swirls of a Faberge egg I'd seen once commemorating Alexander III of Russia. Like those engravings, these seem to hold secret patterns that would resolve themselves if I let my eyes relax long enough. But they were so damned tiny. I closed one eye and squinted the other, peering more closely.

A malachite-handled magnifying glass appeared in my peripheral vision. "You might find this handy," said the West Wind.

"Thanks," I said, taking it. The malachite was wonderfully cool against my fingers and the glass helped the filigree lines stop wavering and form into recognizable shapes. Ah, there were wings, a beak...it was a duck. I blinked. Though I was no duck expert, it looked remarkably like Waddles. Huh.

I drew back and Waddles winked at me, thrusting forth the fine shimmering green plumage of her chest. Her plumage had a pattern to it now that I looked, with a sort of base and delicate lines like branches.

A suspicion was beginning to form in my mind. I looked back at the tiny filigree Waddles on my hairpin. Yup. Her tiny chest had a nice little oak tree emblazoned on it. I turned back to real Waddles and flicked on my Dreamer sight.

Holy shit, Waddles.

It was like staring into the endless curving infinity you get when placing two mirrors facing each other and slightly askew. Only here it was my hairpin and Waddles and Buyan, linked back and forth, each containing the other forever.

I flicked my sight off before I got vertigo. "At least it's all anchored here on Buyan," I muttered.

The East Wind's eyes widened with amusement. "Says who? You carry that pin with you, it all goes with you."

"We all go with you," trilled the North Wind. "And I do so like the twenties."

I let that non-sequitur whiz by as I shook my head. I had bigger fish to fry. "This is completely inside out. Isn't the needle supposed to be inside the egg which is inside the duck, and so on?"

"If you were being traditional about it," said the West Wind earnestly as he petted Waddles's head. "No one said we were."

The East Wind snorted. "You've clearly failed to notice that we're more liberal in our interpretations of things. Just what I expected from you."

I closed my eyes briefly. "Okay. So if it's all inside out, where's Burz's soul fragment, then?"

"Well, that's a question now, isn't it?" said the West Wind. "Depends on where the needle is. Seems you came in with it in your hair."

I put my head in my hands, silently vowing to do the magical equivalent of sucker-punching the Blackstar sometime for this. Somehow. The sneaky bastard. Sentimental value, indeed.

Oh, hush, said Burz. It's not his fault. The needle would have come to you anyway. It's just a marker.

Explain.

Only if you ask nicely.

I slowly visualized melting his ring in the fires of Mount Doom.

Now, now, that's not very nice. Who would keep your dragon mantle under control if you did something like that?

"Oh, bloody hell," muttered Jareth.

I lifted my head and looked at him.

"It's the mantle," said Jareth. "His damned soul fragment's in it. That's the curse on the thing. I knew our neutralization of it with Summer's Dragon was too damned easy."

"That was easy?" I asked. "I nearly unspooled myself into oblivion trying to contain that thing, and took you with me."

Jareth sighed. "It was epically cursed. We probably shouldn't have been able to do it, even with the Blackstar's power boost. So now there's fallout." His brows knit together. "Soul-fragment-shaped fallout."

Spoilsport, said Burz. I was enjoying my secret.

The East Wind barked a laugh.

I looked at her. "I guess you all can hear Burz, too?"

"Always have, always will," said the West Wind softly, pulling Waddles onto his lap. "Comes of being bound up with him outside-in."

I sighed and turned my attention back to Burz. Now that I focused, I could feel the muchness of the dragon mantle curling inside me, surrounded by all those golden curlicues the Blackstar had added. And it was indeed a piece of Burz's soul. Yeesh. This is just fucking creepy, Burz. It's like I'm a damned Horcrux from Harry Potter.

Burz arched a mental eyebrow. No one asked you to interfere with Phanuel. I was perfectly happy keeping it inside him.

I snorted. Yeah, but you were about to break him.

There is that. I admit, I do feel like I traded up somewhat. You're far hardier.

Uh huh. I'm not immortal, you know. What happens to your soul bit when I die?

Burz's hum sounded eerily like one of the Blackstar's tunes. One thing at a time. I've got some dastardly plans to enact and all. Speaking of, we still have to talk to Belial.

I let my head fall onto the hand that wasn't holding my latte. Right. Of course. "How do we let him know we're coming?"

"Sweet crumpet, he already knows," said the West Wind. "It was always just a question of when and where."

I blew out a breath. "Okay then. So, when and where?"

The West Wind blinked shadowed eyes, twisting several emerald rings on his fingers. "Always best to ask when it comes to Belial." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "He tends to take things so personally."

"How do we ask him?" I said. "He just left a note, not a reply-to address."

The East Wind harumphed. "I see Jareth hasn't taught you anything useful yet. Completely unsurprising."

I felt my cheeks flame. I think some of the embarrassment was Jareth's, too. That really pissed me off. I'd just about had it with the East Wind. "We were a touch busy saving the universe last week," I replied coolly.

"And this week?" said the North Wind, standing up to do a pirouette behind the picnic blanket, twirling her mug with her.

I blinked. "And this week we got Belial's note." I crossed my arms. "And the Blackstar, for some unfathomable reason, thought it would be useful to talk to you all."

The East Wind barked a laugh. "At last, some spine! A bit of rudeness goes well with caffeine, don't you think?" She took a pointed sip of her latte, licking the foam from her lip. "So then, you know some of the Blackstar's tricks, yes?"

I crossed my arms, thinking. "Some. One."

The West Wind ran his fingers through Waddles's feathers. "And which one is that?"

I tapped my fingers against my arm. "The one where we get really drunk on illusory alcohol and sing songs that reach across parsecs."

The West Wind's smile was glorious as a sunrise. "That one will do." Waddles quacked her agreement.

Hmmph. "I'd rather do it without getting drunk. Can any of you help me do that?"

I can help, whispered Burz.

I pursed my lips. Yeah, I'm sure you can.

"You should take him up on that," said the West Wind. "We're out of all the good wine."

I narrowed my eyes. "Can anyone guarantee that accepting Burz's help to do this won't be the magical unspecified key that somehow lets him loose?"

The Winds looked at each other and shrugged.

Right. I looked at Jareth. "Your Grace, I guess we're headed back to the Blackstar's to get drunk."

Jareth's face went ever so slightly blank, as if he were listening to a voice message. "Mmm...I think he's stepped out. We'll have to wait."

Of course. Sneaky bastard. "Any idea when he'll be back?"

Jareth shook his head. "He didn't leave word."

"How come you can touch base with the Blackstar and not with Belial?"

"The Blackstar and I have an arrangement. My father and I don't."

Burz piped up. I have an arrangement with Belial.

"Why am I not surprised?" I muttered. "So you can just coordinate with Belial?"

Yup.

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

I was getting there.

I mentally sighed. "Fine. When does he want to see us?"

He'll see you now. Preferably alone.

What, Jareth is persona non grata?

"Trust me," said Jareth, with just the edge of a growl, "the feeling is mutual."

I crossed my arms. I'm not going without Jareth. Either Belial sees us together or he doesn't see me at all.

The Winds collectively sucked in a breath at this.

There was a significant pause, and then Burz cocked a virtual lopsided grin. He accepts. You're both expected posthaste.

I let out a breath I'd been holding. "Alrighty then. So, your Grace...is there any way we can prepare ourselves before we see your dad?"

I watched Jareth's eyes doing their spiral dance of future-seeing, and flicked on my Dreamer sight for the tale end of it. Now that was a sight. And definitely on the far side of creepy as all hell with those countless phantom hands the size of a spider's gasp stretching forth from his eyes, grasping and scrabbling into the ether before they all snapped back quick as a wish.

Jareth frowned and sighed. "Probably not." His lips twitched in a rueful smile as he stood up. "'Twere well it were done quickly.'"

I eyed him. "MacBeth before the assassination of the King? What are you saying?"

Jareth's eyes flashed with something unnameable. "Oh, you know - nothing at all. Tra. La. La."

Burz snorted. You shouldn't trust him when he says things like that.

I shook my head. Dude, tell me about it.

Author's notes:

**The Winds are very much inspired by the winds in Catherynne Valente's Fairyland series. Especially the West Wind. The Blue Wind also draws from The Sandman's Delirium.

**The Faberge egg the engravings remind Sarah of is the Twelve Monograms egg, also known as the Alexander III Portaits egg. It is full of dark blue enamel and curlicues and beauty and you should definitely check it out on Wikipedia.