Jameel was a city boy at heart, really. It wasn't that they were usually havens of civilisation and human brotherhood – he'd never met anyone as flat-out bad as Jax, but there were plenty of guys who were basically, well, Jax Lite out there, and most of them didn't even have the excuse of being dark fae – but at least there was some kind of order to them. You could be assured of having a flat surface to walk on, most of the time. There were streetlights, unless someone had gotten bored and broken them recently.
Changelings – the more outdoorsy Kiths, like Satyrs, in particular – tended to prefer forests to cities. They thought they were more Glamorous. This was yet another thing that made Jameel classify changelings as Weird.
Right now he was being driven through deep snow in the middle of Wishafield Woods, and some horrible little faun kept poking him with a child-sized trident. This was not a situation likely to make him a cheerful Jameel.
"Where are we going, anyway?" he said after the sixth time he stumbled and had to be dragged to his feet by the damn tireless fauns. Jenny was rather better off. In fact, she and the fauns occasionally traded cheerful insults. Jameel felt that she was not really getting into the spirit of this miserable occasion.
"The Glade!" Torus said. "The Glade of Dancing Leaves!"
Jameel nodded. He supposed that made sense, though Josey must be more serious than he thought if he were bringing them right into his stronghold. It was sort of flattering to warrant so much consideration, though Jameel felt that he would have much preferred indifference. Indifference meant a decent chance of making a speedy escape while your captors weren't paying attention to you.
The Glade of Dancing Leaves had been a peaceful place, once. It had been a Motley Freehold, outside of the feudal hierarchy, but closely allied with Duke Drackus' Freehold of the Singing Sapphire. It had been a place where the Satyrs came to dance, and where everyone else came to seek their wisdom. Once they had tired themselves out, at least.
Those days were gone, though. These days, the Glade of Dancing Leaves was spoken of in hushed tones. It was the stronghold of rebels and outlaws, and Old Josey had cast such powerful cantrips over it that no one could find it anymore without being invited.
The trees parted, and the Wildlings brought their prisoners into a large, snow-clad meadow. Jameel was sure it was still early afternoon, but overhead there was nevertheless a black, star-sprinkled sky with a bright full moon. Beneath it, tents had been raised and wagons brought up. In one end of the Glade, a few dozen people were dancing to the music of Satyr guitars, and in the other end some fine-clad fellows were huddled together, engaged in what seemed to be a spirited conversation. As the Wildlings appeared, the fancier crowd turned around. Jameel was shocked to see a couple of perfect, regal Sidhe faces among them.
"We got them!" Torus said, bouncing from goat leg to goat leg with excitement. "It was really easy, too! I think they're both slipping!"
"Torus," Jenny said amiably. "When I get the chance, I'm going to tangle up your tail something fierce. Just so you know."
"Well, well," a deep, carrying voice said. A Satyr man stepped out from the crowd. His hair was the same colour as the moonlight, and his face had deep laugh-lines in it, but he was light on his hoofs and his brilliant blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and mischief. "Lady Mennavere. How nice of you to join us."
Jenny bowed formally, a wry grin on her lips.
"Josey," she said. "As a duly appointed knight of the realm, it's my duty to inform you that you're under arrest. Will you come quietly, or do I have to get rough?"
Josey laughed.
"I think I'll stay where I am," he said, "if it's all the same to you."
"Ah." Jenny nodded sagely. "I'll just add 'resisting arrest' to your charges, then."
"And young Mr Johnson," Josey said, smiling at Jameel. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Er… from who?" said Jameel, who knew that there were a number of different people who probably said a number of very different things about him.
"Oh, I listen to all sorts of people," Josey said loftily. "A lot of people are impressed by you, you know. Not many Kinain manage to become sorcerers."
"I'm… not actually a sorcerer," Jameel said. "Not yet."
He couldn't help wondering who was so impressed by him. No one ever seemed especially impressed – even Mercher had treated him like something he'd scraped off his boot, even though it was a rather worn boot where the sole was about to come loose.
"But you're close," Josey said. "Very close. And you have picked up some rather unusual tricks."
Jameel felt his face grow hot. Unusual tricks? Well, if that was what you wanted to call the Dark Arts…
Josey smiled like a kindly old uncle.
"Which Art are you trying to master?" he said.
Jameel hesitated.
"Primal," he said.
"Raw natural power?" Josey tilted his head. "I would have expected something a bit more refined from you. Why not Chicanery?"
"Oh, I like Chicanery too," Jameel said. "But it's only as good as the people you're influencing with it, isn't it? Like, you could make someone want to help you, but it'd still depend on whether they can help you, you know? With Primal, it's all down to you. Healing and hurting, protecting and conjuring and transforming – you kind of get all the basics, everything you might need to do in a hurry…"
He felt a sharp, armour-clad elbow nudging him in the ribs. He looked around and saw Jenny making a face at him.
"Jameel?" she said sweetly. "Could you not do the geek bonding thing with our sworn enemy?"
"Sorry," Jameel said. He had forgotten himself – Josey had a way of talking to you that made you feel comfortable and eager to chat. It started to dawn on him just why this man was Broch's arch-nemesis and foremost pain in the neck.
Josey stepped aside, grinning broadly. A small Sidhe girl stepped out of the crowd, regal and dignified in every inch. She had long, blonde curls and was wearing a pink dress that looked like something a fairytale princess would wear. Jenny groaned.
"Hello, Mary-Kate," she said in a suffering tone. "Fancy running into you here."
"It's Malenna, my Lady," the little girl said, sternly rebuking. "Malenna ap Fiona, Duchess of Howling Winds."
Jameel looked from one of them to the other.
"You two know each other?" he said.
"I enjoyed Lady Mennavere's hospitality in the Solitary Tower for some months," Malenna said.
"Oh, stop being so damn correct and polite," Jenny said. "You were my prisoner, on the Lord Regent's orders."
Jameel gave Jenny a wide-eyed look.
"You kept the Duchess prisoner?"
"I didn't know she was the Duchess!" Jenny said. She frowned at Malenna. "In fact, I still don't know if I can believe it. Where's the proof? Drackus never proclaimed you as his heir. I would have found out."
"He didn't know she was the daughter of his faerie aspect," Josey said smoothly. "We knew his heir had been reborn, but we hadn't had time to determine who it was yet. Faerie paternity tests are a bit complicated, you see."
"Uh-huh," Jenny said. "Okay, there's an excellent way to settle it, isn't there? Drackus is Undone. His heir, whoever that is, is now the rightful Duchess of Howling Winds. So where's the ducal blade, which only the rightful master of the duchy can lift? Where's Storm's Voice?"
Josey coughed.
"We haven't quite been able to locate it yet," he said. "We will, though. Meanwhile, there are more important matters to decide." He smiled at Jameel and Jenny in turn. "I have had my eye on you two for some time. Yesterday, I put you to a test. You both passed with flying colours."
"A test?" Jameel said.
"I got some friends of mine to convince you that you were to find me," Josey said. "And then I planted a trail that would lead you into Icespire."
"Gretta," Jenny said, grimacing. "Mercher."
"Well, technically Gretta is a friend of mine and a sweet little girl," Josey said. "Mercher is just greedy and easy to bribe."
"He's dead," Jenny said flatly. "Broch had me kill him for what you put him up to."
Josey shrugged.
"No great loss there."
Jenny scowled. The look of fury on her face made Jameel flinch back.
"And Big Brian?" she said. "Another friend of yours, isn't he? He's a damn Thallain, Josey!"
Josey smiled, looking boyish despite his wrinkles.
"His lot are a little hard to stomach, yeah," he said. "But they're useful, and we need all the help we can get. Which brings me to the point."
"We want you to come and work for us," Malenna said. "For me."
Jameel felt his jaw drop.
"Broch was Drackus' court Soothsayer," Josey said. "Our new Duchess will need someone else for the post. And obviously, she will need a Commander of the Guard – Sir Thorgrim is, I regret to say, rather too old and hidebound for the post. You found the trail to Icespire, and you handled yourself very well while you were there…"
"We found a false trail," Jenny said. "And we got captured in Icespire."
"Oh, you were never supposed to do anything else," Josey said. "The test was how much of a fight you put up. You will do nicely. You're wasted on Broch's side, and I'd hate to have to kill you when we overthrow him. Come over to the side of the good guys instead. Come on, what do you say?"
"Fuck you," Jenny said flatly.
Josey sighed.
"Oh, Jenny. I expected you to be far more reasonable. I know that you loathe your current position…"
"Yeah, I do, as it happens," Jenny said. "But I can't recall my oath of fealty saying anything about me enjoying myself. Besides, your offer sucks." She started counting on her fingers. "One, you don't have a confirmed Duchess, just a girl who might or might not be the rightful heir. You don't have Storm's Voice, so you can't prove who she is one way or the other. That makes Broch the legal Lord Regent. Two, you hang out with fucking Thallain. You think you can control them? So does Broch, and seeing as Big Brian is working for you in secret, apparently he's mistaken. Three, you've had your flunkies mess with my head and drag me hither and dither like you thought I was some kind of toy. Broch is an asshole, and a monster, and a painfully obvious usurper to the throne, but at least he has always played me straight. Frankly, I think I like him better than you. So I reiterate, Josey-boy – fuck you."
Josey scowled. Malenna folded her arms and looked unamused.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Josey said tightly. "Your Grace, what should we do with her?"
Malenna considered.
"Look her up somewhere," she said. "Once I've taken my throne, I'll pass sentence on her."
Josey bowed.
"A wise decision, your Grace," he said. "Wildlings, take her to the Pools."
Torus and his friends rushed forward and surrounded Jenny.
"How about you, Jameel?" Josey said as they began to drag her off with much scuffling and pushing. "What's your answer?"
Jameel licked his lips.
"If I join," he said, "you'll protect me, right? From… any enemies I might make?"
"Of course," Josey said. "That is part of the oath of fealty."
"Then… then I accept!" Jameel said.
"What?" Jenny yelled from an increasing distance. "Jameel, you damn traitor!"
Jameel gave her an unhappy glance, feeling that she was being very unfair. What was he supposed to do? She could afford to throw her life away – she knew she'd get another, and another, for as long as there were new humans being born that she could reincarnate into. He just had this one life. He had to make it work.
Josey gave him a blessing smile.
"Very sensible of you," he said. "You won't regret it. Whatever problems you might have with this Jax fellow, we'll deal with that. And you will have a steady access to Glamour – no more slaving for Broch and his minions. We know how to take care of our followers."
Jameel smiled weakly. This was wrong. The good guys didn't promise you wealth and power for helping them. The good guys tried to appeal to your better nature. It was the bad guys who tried to bribe you.
And I've proven that I'm easy to bribe. This is a much better offer than I got last time – then I handed myself over to the Shadow Court for a few nuggets of Art and a chance to get laid once in a while.
But he was still in a strange Glade, surrounded by changelings. So he knelt before Malenna and began reciting the Oath of Allegiance.