If traveling by Faerie Trode guided by Cait was unnerving, doing so with The Burner's knights is nightmare inducing. Somehow I felt safer walking behind Cait holding her tail than I do now surrounded by heavily armed and armored knights.
Possibly because of the heavily armed and armored knights.
Needless to say, I really don't want to be here.
I briefly considered trying to fight my way free, but I really don't like my chances. These are Sidhe, the noble caste of the Fae. Which means that they are all well beyond anything human in both physical and magical power. Not to mention that if any of them are under five hundred years old I'd eat Sclamhaire.
Which means, not only are they likely my match physically, not only do they have a much larger and more flexible set of powers to call on, they certainly have centuries of training and combat experience on me.
How is this different from most things I've been fighting? Stray devil queens and the such? Well, these come with faerie made weapons and armor. Just like my armor and Sclamhaire.
Certainly not the same quality as what the Lady of the Lake made for me. But for the first time since I acquired her, I'm not certain that Sclamhaire will cut through my enemies. Sure she'd failed to do that before, Roanoke comes to mind, but that always came as a surprise. Now I actually don't expect her to.
So fighting seems like a quick way to die.
So for the moment I'm going along with things.
After all, maybe I'll be lucky and this Fae Lord will be like any previous client. Just with an extremely inappropriate method of recruitment.
My luck isn't that good, though.
So, I'm escorted through the mist, the realm of the fae hiding itself from mortal eyes. Having learned my lesson the first time I was here, I go out of my way to not pay attention to any gaps in the mist. The last thing I need going into this is a headache.
Which is at least part of why I'm taken by surprise by finding that we've arrived. Out of the mist a huge castle appears. We march across a lowered drawbridge over a moat, and through walls thick enough that the way through them is more 'tunnel' than 'gate'.
The interior is the first thing I've seen that really makes me think I'm in Faerie. The courtyard is lined on either side by well manicured gardens framing a path from the wall tunnel to the castle gates. Which is normal enough. Things get weird in the details though. There are small trees that at first glance seem to be covered in autumn colored leaves. A second look though, shows that the 'leaves' are actually fire in the shape of leaves. What I first took to be wind moving the leaves is actually just the flickering of the flame.
Everything in the garden is fire. The flowers are blooms of fire of various colors. The grass is fire, an uncountable number of green candle flames. Even the 'stream' that runs along one side of the path between the wall and the castle proper, is oddly rippling blue fire.
Apparently, 'the Burner' takes his title very seriously.
I'm not given much time to examine the... 'foliage' though. The knights quickly move me to the front gates of the castle and inside. It takes only moments to become completely lost. In my defense though, I'm pretty sure the damned castle rearranges itself when I'm not looking.
Not even subtly.
At one point my guides lead me down a hallway, through a door, and into a room with no other doors. Completely unfazed, my guides simply turn around and we exit out the door we'd just entered, into a large gallery. Which certainly isn't the hallway along an exterior wall lined with windows that it had been only moments ago.
The art is spectacular though. Statues that look like they're going to stand up and start moving around at any moment. Paintings that look more like windows than pigment on canvas. The only thing preventing me from really enjoying any of it, is the knowledge that this is a faerie castle. Which means it's entirely possible that the statues are real people turned to stone, and the paintings are actual moments of time ripped from the world and captured here for the viewing pleasure of those allowed into the gallery. Knowing that any of these might have been real people that just vanished without explanation... well it puts my current situation into horrifying perspective.
Eventually I'm led to a large set of heavily decorated double doors. The knights stop me here, and the one who'd spoken to me in the clearing turns to address me again, "You will have to hand over your weapons here." He tells me, holding out a hand.
A large part of me is tempted to just do what he wants and hand Sclamhaire to him. That probably wouldn't end well for me though so instead I sigh, "I can't."
All the knights look at me, questions clear, but the virtue of dealing with fae is quickly made clear. They're very sensitive to specific wording, "Why can you not?" The knight asks.
"I cannot give my weapons to you because nobody but me can touch them and be unharmed. I can't leave them here because they can't be separated from me." I explain, trying to imply that they can't take my athame either. Just because the fae can't lie doesn't mean I can't.
One of the knights that hadn't spoken yet snorts, "We are Sidhe Knights of the Burner. I'm sure we can deal with any paltry curse you've managed to attach to your sword." she, and isn't that a surprise, sneers.
I'm really tempted to let her try, but again, that might cause problems, so I explain one more time, "The Lady of the Lake seemed very certain that Sclamhaire would do terrible things to anybody but me when she gave the sword to me." The doubting female knight had been starting to reach for Sclamhaire's hilt, but the mention of Vivain brought them all up short.
"You expect me to believe that you have weapons forged by the Lady of the Lake." The knight reaching for my sword demands, though she doesn't sound nearly as certain of herself now as she did a few moments ago.
Knight Maefael, who is still standing in front of me, coincidentally between me and the double doors, waves the female knight back, "Draw the blade." He tells me shortly while gesturing for his knights to not react.
Fun fact, Allspeak works on sign languages just as well as spoken ones.
At his command though, I reach over my shoulder and smoothly draw Sclamhaire. The knights take one look at the blade, and the female knight swears softly under her breath, and takes a step back. Maefael though, just nods, "Keep your weapons then. You will stay with the escort when we enter the throne room, and approach no closer than they do." My only response is to nod. Which seems to be all Maefael needs. He turns to the doors and pushes them open, leading me inside.
The throne room is an experience. The entire room is made of some black stone, which makes it feel like I'm walking into an infinite void. The walkway is marked by silver dots set into the stone creating a pathway of constellations and stars. The room is lit by a pair of pits on either side of the path that are filled with a low multi-colored fire and stretch the length of the path. In spite of all the flame though, the room still feels dimly lit. The pits of fire do keep the room sweltering though.
At the far end of the room is a huge throne made of the same black stone as everything else in here. It stands out from the rest of the stone though, by being covered in silver filigree in the shape of flames. It's a spectacular piece of art, but it's completely overshadowed by the man sitting in it.
The man lounging on the throne is tall, and muscled. Something displayed by the loose blue robe he's wearing, which is open down to where his belly button should be. I'm honestly not sure if fae have those... The opening displays a very defined chest and abs. His eyes are a glowing crimson that almost perfectly matches the color of his hair.
All in all, I find myself very glad I'm not straight. If I were capable of finding him attractive in the slightest, everything would be more difficult while he's in my line of sight.
...Or maybe not...
As we approach the throne I get a better and better sense of his mana and it's... very off, and very off putting. He's certainly got more mana than anybody else in the room. More than all of us put together actually, by a huge margin. But if the fae still surrounding me are an example of how a healthy fae's mana should be balanced, then there is something very wrong with the Sidhe on the throne.
The more I look at him, the more certain I am that he's very sick. Sick to the point that if he weren't Sidhe his state of health would be visually, and disgustingly, apparent. That might have been enough to counteract his unnatural fae charisma.
Or maybe not.
What do I know about how attractive men are?
I'm halted a good fifteen feet away from the throne. Far enough away to make lunging for the Sidhe on the throne impossible. Or so they think. I'm pretty sure that I could make the difference quickly enough to be effective via telekinetic launch, but they don't need to know that. I doubt it would work out for me anyway.
Maefael strides a few feet closer and bows low to the man on the throne, "My Lord, I present Ericka Rhostana, Death Witch, as requested."
The Sidhe on the throne, who I have to assume is Áillen, examines me carefully. His eyes rake up and down my form with an intensity that I normally only find in teenage boys while I'm in my swimsuit on Ke'Kua'Okolani beach. I'm wearing completely figure concealing armor though, so I doubt it's my figure that he's looking at.
He examines me for far longer than anybody would consider polite. Finally though he speaks, and a new language blooms in my mind, "Ask her if the rumors are true." His voice sounds like a raging inferno and sunburn. Just him speaking sends a wave of power rolling down the throne room that feels like stepping out of an air conditioned house in Arizona in summer at midday. A wall of heat that's almost physical.
It's powerful enough that I get a decent chunk of mana when it rolls over me. I keep my eyes on Áillen, but I can hear the knight surrounding me turn to look in my direction.
Maybe they were expecting me to react more to their Lord's power?
Go armor!
Maefael turns to do as his lord commands, but before he can, I reply in the language I just learned, "Answering that, Lord of Summer, would require knowing what the rumors are."
Maefael's jaw drops just slightly, the knights around me start in surprise, and Áillen himself gains a slight smile.
"How did you learn the noble tongue of Faerie?" Maefael demands, recovering quickly.
I shrug, "I speak every language. Allspeak is handy like that." I could have kept my Allspeak hidden. But I still have a tendency to gain the accent of whoever I'm speaking to, and to drift into whatever language is being spoken around me if I'm not paying attention. Dividing my attention to prevent that while dealing with fae is just a bad idea. And them finding out later due to a slip and deciding I lied to them would also be unpleasant.
"And so the question is answered." Áillen murmurs, "Still it is better to be sure. It is said that you can take powers from one being and give them to another."
I blink. This is a first, I've never had anybody ask about what I'm doing to myself before. Not outside those that have helped me with the process, "I... can..." I say slowly, "It's more complicated than that statement makes it sound, but it's essentially correct."
"Can you give these powers to one other than yourself?" Áillen sounds almost eager. He starts to sit forward, but stops before the motion can become more than a momentary tensing of muscles and settles back onto his throne.
Could I? Definitely. It had worked on the Sidhe that had tried to elf strike me. Which now that I think about it refutes the rumors that fae don't have souls. If they didn't, my trait theft wouldn't work on them at all. In either direction, now that I think about it. All of that however doesn't answer the question of, 'do I really want to give any fae a power that's not factory standard'.
"I'm not sure." I say after a moment's thought, "I've never tried before." I add on quickly when I see Áillen start frowning. It's true enough, I've never used the trait theft ritual to benefit anybody other than myself, "At the moment what I use is tuned specifically to me. If I were to move a trait to somebody else, I'd need a scan of the intended recipient at the very least." Which is at least fifty percent bullshit, but I need more information. I'm careful not to show that on my face or in my voice though.
"Why." Áillen demands, and Maefael doesn't look very happy with the idea either.
I sigh, "The first time I actually used the process on myself I took a cat's ability to see in low light. My eyes literally exploded in my skull." The knights and Maefael recoil slightly, and even Áillen grimaces. "I'd need the scan to know how to make sure the new power doesn't cause problems like that. I'd also need a scan of the intended... donor. To make sure I can isolate the power you want, and not bring along any extras." I finger one of my slightly pointed ears, "I wasn't born with these after all." More bullshit. I could probably use the same intent targeting that's on my athame, but again I want time and information.
Áillen listens quietly as I explain the difficulties in the process. He seems to grasp how difficult what he's asking for will be, or at least he's not insisting that I'm over stating the difficulties.
"And what will this procedure cost?" He asks after I've finished.
Ah. That is the question isn't it?
Especially since I'm really not sure that I want to do this. Him trying to slip in an implicit agreement into negotiations is a classic fae trick. If I say something that could be considered agreement, well that's that.
So I need to stall, to give him something that looks like what he wants, or at least could lead to what he wants, without actually committing to anything.
Good thing I've been setting something like that up.
I sigh, "That would depend on how much work I would have to do to make everything work together." I say making sure to put everything in hypothetical, "Especially since that it may not even be possible to do what I do for a fae. I would be willing to... examine the problem. Get the scans, and figure out if it's possible, and how difficult it will be. Say, for guest rights and a boon. The price for the full ritual can be negotiated after I have actual information." Maybe I can get something about where Cait is out of this guy. Nothing else has worked.
Áillen narrowed his eyes at me, gritting his teeth slightly in what I can only assume is frustration. Apparently he didn't expect me to have any experience dealing with fae. A mistake he wouldn't have made if he could read Cait in my aura.
As usual, Cait gives excellent advice.
We go back and forth several more times adjusting the specifics of the agreement and the wording. In the end the agreement isn't that different than my initial proposal. Mostly because I'm unwilling to budge much. To the point that it almost isn't a negotiation.
In the end the only thing I'm getting upfront is guest rights, which is all I really need up front to be fair. I get my boon after I deliver an estimate, something to keep me motivated to actually deliver, and not just hang around for an extended period of time. Not something I'm even remotely tempted to do, but he doesn't know that.
I decide to sit on what I want my boon to be until he's ready to deliver on it. If he actually has information on Cait there's all sorts of things he could do to get leverage before he has to deliver anything.
Most of our actual negotiation comes from defining exactly what's covered by the guest right. Things like I have to be provided with food that will have no negative effects. Negative effects as defined by me, not them. This means they get into trouble if I get indigestion, but it also means that I need to be able to eat normal food still after what they feed me. They can call bullshit on me if I take it too far though. That will require the arbitration of a neutral third party, something I get the decided impression Áillen doesn't want in his castle.
I think I frustrate Áillen a little bit when I insist that no matter what the outcome of my initial examination of the problem is, I still get safe passage back to the mortal world. Pretty sure he had something in mind there, but I'll never know what it was now.
As it turns out I'm pretty good at this, dealing with otherworldly creatures, by now.
We eventually have an agreement though, which I insist we each get a copy of in writing. A copy that I read through three times before I sign, no less.
At last though, we're done with the initial negotiations, and the deal is signed. Which means I actually get to find out what the hell he wants.
Finally.
"Are you familiar with the term Iron Blooded?" Áillen asks me as an opening.
I'm slightly surprised at the question, and it takes me a moment to dig up where I've heard the term before, "It's a Fae immune to the touch of iron, like a daywalker is a vampire immune to sunlight." From the glares, that's not a comparison that Áillen or any of the other fae particularly like.
Note to self, don't compare highly arrogant creatures of extreme magic power with the undead.
"Yes." Áillen keeps his poker face, but Maefael looks slightly surprised for just a moment. "I wish for you to give the Iron Blooded immunity to me."
I really want to ask if he wants the immunity to help with whatever is making him so sick, and his mana so unbalanced. I like living though, so instead, "My understanding is that Iron Blooded are incredibly rare. For this to happen at all, you'll actually need one of them on hand." I don't say it, but the question of 'do you have one?' is clearly heard by everybody.
Áillen nods slowly, "Yes. Maefael."
The knight spins on the ball of his foot to face the throne and bows low like he had when we first approached the throne, "My Lord?"
"Take the Death Witch to her quarters, and then to see the prisoner." The fae lord orders, "Give her what she needs to do her task." He levels a severe look at me, "Within reason."
The knight dips his bow a little lower, then quickly escorts me out of the throne room.
Well... I'm still alive, in my proper shape, and have my free will.
I'd say that went well!
###
Another trip through the ever shifting passages of the Summer Lord's castle, and I'm delivered to a very nice suite of rooms. A sumptuous sitting room with a fireplace, of course, overstuffed furniture, and a very nice desk for me to work at. A luxurious bedroom with carpets thick enough for my feet to almost entirely vanish in if I were barefoot, and a four poster bed with a mattress so soft I suspect it's made from actual clouds. And lastly, an exquisite bathroom, with a bathtub big enough that I could probably play water polo in it with only a little difficulty.
I drop off my backpack, keeping my weapons and armor on me, and meet my escort back in the hallway, "The rooms are to your satisfaction?" Maefael asks stiffly once I've joined them.
"The hospitality of Summer is legendary, and apparently the legends do it no justice." I tell my escort.
The knights all stand a little straighter and puff up a bit. That sort of over the top compliment isn't usually something I'd bother with. In the courts of Faerie though, how you say something is every bit as important as what you actually say. If not more so.
So I'll be at least trying to play the game, if only to make my life easier.
The trip down to the dungeons is... unpleasant.
At first, it's no different than anywhere else I've been in the castle. Confusing, ever shifting passages, that move every time you take your eye off of them. But as we get lower in the castle, closer to the dungeons, things get darker.
Partially literally. As we go deeper the light level drops, the various bits of fire shrinking as though reluctant to burn. This doesn't drop the temperature though, if anything it gets hotter as we go. The passages also get steadily smaller, so soon we're moving single file in the almost total darkness, in the sweltering heat, in passages I actually have to duck slightly to get through, and scrape against my pauldrons if I lean at all to either side.
Then we start reaching the prisoners.
The cells are through small doors in either side of the passage we move through. The bars are made of a bright silver metal that seems incongruous with the rest of the environment. There's also no way to open these cells that I can see. The bars are set into the frame and floor of the passages, no door existing at all.
What's in the cells, though, confirm every warning that Cait, Pua, or Ku have ever given me about the fae.
One cell is occupied by a tall rosebush that seems to be wrapped around something, and pulses slowly. Each contraction produces a scream of agony, and a few fresh trails of blood running down its vines and leaves.
Another has a dirty man, dressed in rags, his hair wild and down to his shoulders, his beard even longer. The floor of his cell is covered with scattered bones. He clutches one of them in his hands, sobbing brokenly even as he desperately tries to suck just a bit more marrow from the bone.
I very deliberately don't look closely enough to get any idea what sort of creature the bones came from.
We pass by horror after horror. A man in a cell even hotter than the passageway, trying desperately to get at a steady, if slow, drip of water through the bars. Only to fail each time as the water evaporates in the heat before he can get to it. A woman that writhes on the floor of her cell, blood dripping from her ears and empty eye sockets. The only sound she makes a rough, painful sounding wheeze.
We go past enough of them that I figure it has to be deliberate. They're showing me this as a warning, to make me afraid of what they might do if I piss them off.
It's not working though. Oh, I'm afraid, but it's hard to notice under the steadily growing rage. I don't like being threatened, even as obliquely as it's being done here. It makes me want to kill the person doing the threatening before they have a chance to follow through.
I keep myself from showing it though, now isn't the time.
Finally we arrive at our destination. It's a cell just like all the others and I crouch down to get the clearest look possible at who I'm supposedly going to be working on. All I can make out is an emaciated figure dressed in bloody rags, curled up on the floor and chained there.
"Well first, I'll need a larger space to work. Script isn't exactly space efficient, so they'll have to be moved to a larger cell." I tell the knights.
At the sound of my voice the figure in the cell starts slightly, then slowly turns to look up at me. Something about the face tugs at my attention. It's hard to make anything out in the supernaturally dim lighting, and under the dirt.
But they almost look like...
...
Oh god, Cait...