It took her a few days to recover from the ceileighewhen the Sidhe threw a party, they threw a real partybut Beth spent that time planning her quest. Meeting Ria had not been particularly enjoyable, but Beth was honest enough with herself to admit that a lot of her current reasons for her feelings toward Ria were rooted in envy.
Back in her television days, Beth had always hated the game-playing necessary to get the job done. Working in television was as much a matter of playing political games as having the needed skill set to do the job, and she'd always resisted following the unspoken codes of flattery and expediency that allowed you to get and keep an assignment.
Hell, she'd even hated it in the RenFaires. But Ria Llewellyn seemed to swim through that treacherous sea with ease. Partly it was the power that came from being majority stockholder in a multibillion dollar company, Beth was sureno groveling and scraping for jobs or funding therebut mostly it was Ria herself. Take everything away from her, and she'd build it back up with ease.
Beth wished she could be that kind of person. But everything she'd ever hadthe glamour job in TV, the music gigs with Spiral Dance, the busking at RenFaires, even her place Underhillshe'd had to work hard to claim in an arena where ability counted no more, and sometimes far less, than networks of favors and friendships. As a small child, her battle cry had always been: But that's not fair! and she'd always been willing to do battle with the world as it was in the name of Fairness. It was one of the things that had drawn her to Wicca. The Craft placed a great premium on taking responsibility for your own life, working to ensure fair-dealing and justice for all, not just its own members.
Even going Underhill with Kory had seemed to her to be a defeat sometimes. The people chasing her had no right to do what they did. But while they didn't have Right on their side, they did have superior force. And so the three of them had gone: she to exile, Kory back to a home that sometimes chafed, as home did.
But Eric . . . for him Underhill had only been a way-station, not a final destination or a goal. He'd learned and grown, and gone back to take his place in Ria's world. To put it most unfairly, he'd succeeded where Beth had failed. Even having Kory's love wasn't enough to make up for that sometimes.
But having Maeve had changed everything. Through all the long months of her pregnancy, impatiently awaiting the birth of her daughter, Beth had thought she was ready for motherhood, willing to take up the responsibility, eager to protect and guide a new life.
She'd had no clue.
The moment she held her daughter in her arms, felt her weight and smelled her baby scent, looked into her kitten-blue eyes, the whole world had changed. Beth became the second most important person in her own life. All the old stupid clichés were true: she no longer cared about things because Beth wanted them, but because Beth-and-Maeve were important. Beth looked into a future that had to be put in order because Maeve would live there; she had to think and plan and prepare for the future because Maeve would be the one to grasp the opportunities there, this utterly beloved one who wrapped Beth in a gossamer web of responsibility for every detail of her existence.
It wasn't crushing. It was liberating and ecstatic and joyful all at once. Maeve didn't diminish her. Maeve gave her a strength and power she had never imagined possibleand suddenly so many things she hadn't thought about were vitally important. She wanted Kory's children for the joy they would bring to both of them, but now she also wanted those children for Maevebrothers and sisters to tie her human daughter firmly into the web of kinship that linked all Underhill, friends and allies and protectors to share Maeve's grief and happiness as no one elseeven her motherever could.
Suddenly all the things her friends with kids had said made perfect sense. Maeve completed her, changed her, made her stronger. Made her whole.
Made her worry every moment, even when she knew that at least some of those worries were irrational.
Beth grinned, leaning over the bassinet. No meteor was hurtling toward the Earth. No war was about to break out to ravage the halls of Elfhame Misthold. It didn't even rain. "And there's a legal limit to the snow here. . . ." Maeve had her very own Protector. And the Seleighe Sidhe adored childrenall childrenwith a single-mindedness that was almost enough to satisfy a new mother's fierce protective instincts. It wouldn't be easy to leave Maeve behind, but Beth had no fear that she'd return to find anything other than a very pampered Elven-American Princess. It was for Maeve, for the future, for her daughter's unborn siblings, that she was going. And if she didn't come back . . . well, she was doing what mothers did, and she felt a peace in her soul that hadn't been there for a very long time.
Yep. It's a whole new Beth Kentraine . . . and ain't that a kick in the head?
Kory had taken care of the practical preparations for their trip. This was the first time Beth would be going outside the boundaries of one of the Elfhames, but to find what they needed would take them out into the Lands Underhill, and that world was far wider than the territory claimed by either Sidhe Court.
"If you need information, find an information specialist," Ria had said. This was the first step. Kory had consulted one of Prince Arvindel's advisors, the Lady Vivalant (who was also the librarian of his very eclectic collection of books) for information about a place called the Goblin Market. He'd told Beth that it was said that all roads Underhill led eventually to that place, and there you could find anything you sought. It was the closest thing to a trade fair that Underhill held.
There were dark rumors about the Goblin Market as well. It was said that you could buy nothing you did not already possess, nor sell that save what you wished to keep. But both Kory and Vivalantand Master Dharniel as well, when she'd nerved herself to ask himhad thought it was still worth trying.
There was no day or night in a hame, but it still felt like early morning when they left. The elvensteeds stood ready, their saddlebags packed with the necessities of the journey, as well as some trade goods from the World Above: coffee, chocolate, and even a couple of six-packs of Classic Coke.
Beth had been mildly shockedall three contained caffeine, a deadly drug to all the Children of Danubut Kory had assured her that not everything living Underhill shared the Sidhe's liability, and that such items were often eagerly sought.
"Figures. Next thing you know, McDonald's will be opening a branch down here."
Kory grinned at her, tightening his mount's girth. "Ah," he said wistfully. "Chicken McNuggets. Thick creamy shakes. And ketchup."
He was dressed in his full knightly regalia: elvensilver armor and sword, and looked every inch the faerie knight. Somehow the wistful look at the mention of Mickey D's didn't seem to go with the rest. Cognitive dissonance, that was what they called it.
"Don't," Beth begged, grinning. She'd lost her taste for junk food while she was pregnant and had never regained it, but ketchup was something she still missed.
"And Chinese food, no MSG. And pizza," Kory continued teasingly. " 'Tis a pity we could not bring any of that with us. We could gain empires."
"You're right at that, kiddo. I guess when we get back I'm going to have to set up a kitchen and see about satisfying some of your . . . cravings." She winked at him, camping up her saucy Faire-wench personathough her costume would certainly never have passed muster with any of the Authenticity Nazis. Beth was wearing woven leggingsembroidered down the outside of each thigh with a pattern of fruits and vines in glittering threadtucked into high soft boots of green and gold. Above that she wore a cowled tunic in a green to match her boots, its hood, now lying over her shoulders, lined in a gold satin that matched her leggings, and around her neck a glowing pendant, warning any who could read itand that was practically everyone they would meetthat Beth Kentraine was under the protection of Elfhame Misthold: mess with her, and you messed with them. Her tunic was gathered in with a wide belt of tooled leather, from which hung a very businesslike dagger. Under her tunic was a chain mail shirt of elvensilver worn over a linen shift, and beneath that, in a protective silk pouch embroidered with spells and hung from a thong about her neck, was her old flip-knife. Its blade was Cold Iron, anathema everywhere Underhill, carried only to be used as a last resort if things turned really bad.
She'd thought about asking to wear armor, but elven armor was as much for display as for protection. Kory's armor proclaimed him a Seleighe knight, and Beth, he'd insisted, should dress to reflect what she was as well. She'd drawn the line at the idea of wearing a long dress, though. She'd always been more of a blue-jeans personand besides, neither she nor Bredana really cared for the sidesaddle that went with the dress.
Kory patted Mach Five on the shouldernamed long ago out of a Speed Racer cartoon, he'd once explained blushingly. The elvensteed whuffled and stamped his foot, and Kory turned to inspect Bredana. Finding everything there to his satisfaction (it was amazing, Beth reflected, how much of Pony Club stayed with you through the years), he held out his hand to Beth.
"All is in readiness, my lady. Shall we away?"
"You've been reading Howard Pyle again," Beth said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. He knelt and made a stirrup of his handelven armor was far lighter and more flexible than its World Above counterpartand Beth stepped up, swinging her leg carefully across the saddle. The cantle was higher than a modern saddle; though Bredana could have created saddle and tack to look like anything, for this trip it was best that everything be Sidhe Classic. In a lot of places Underhill, it was safest to look like exactly what you were.
Kory mounted Mach Five and took up the reins. Grooms rushed to open the stable doors, and the two of them rode out.
The park was lit with the silvery unchanging light of Underhill. The air smelled of roses and apricots, and the world was filled with the singing of birds. In the middle distance, Beth could see another party, much larger than their own, lords and ladies out for a morning of hunting.
Beth had never been to the edge of the parklands that made up Elfhame Mistholdor rather, she had, but the magic had simply brought her back to the far side of the park, as if the whole place were somehow built on a Moebius strip, which for all she knew, it was. But today they were going through a Gate that would lead them into the world beyond.
Every Gate was essentially the same, Kory had told her, just as the essential magic of all the Lands Underhill was the same. Most Gates could be set to take their user to any of six "pre-set" destinations. Some could be set to open only to the proper code, others operated by anyone. You had to travel overland, hopscotching among friendly or neutral Gates, until you got to where you were going. Most of them led in and out of neutral or unclaimed territory; you couldn't just ride through a Gate and find yourself in the middle of somebody's living room. The Gate that led into someone's personal domain was usually well-guarded or well-defendedor bothand whoever was behind it would have a lot of warning that you were coming.
The Gate that led out of Elfhame Misthold was a golden archwaysome long ago elfmage's pun on the Golden Gate, since Misthold's anchoring Nexus was in the San Francisco Bay Areawith an ornate design covering every inch of its surface. The space in the center of the archway shimmered faintly, like a curtain of gold chains. Two Sidhe in full armor stood before it. Once upon a time Beth had been surprised that with magic available for the asking, the Folk performed so many mundane tasks for themselves, like guarding doors and sweeping out stables, but at heart the Sidhe were warriors who knew that someday they might be called upon to fight. There were hames as decadent and luxurious as she could possibly imagine, and even hames where all the work was done by human changelings, but Misthold wasn't one of them.
Age and power seemed to radiate from the Misthold Gate. One of the knights saluted as they drew near.
"Fair morrow, Lord Korendil, Mistress Beth," he greeted them formally.
"Fair morrow, Sir Vinimene. My lady and I ride upon quest, at my lord Arvindel's good pleasure," Kory answered, equally formally.
"Quest well and come home safe," Vinimene answered. He stepped back, and Beth and Kory rode through.
She'd gone through Gates a lot of times, traveling between Earth and Underhill, but they'd always seemed to go from outdoors to indoors, or the other way around, and her mind had accepted the change. Here, it was as if the whole world vanished in an eyeblink. The flare of bright sunlightsunlight?caught her by surprise, and she swayed in the saddle just a little.
"Beth?"
"I'm okay. Just wasn't ready for it. Kind of weird, isn't it?"
"I remember being just as surprised the first time I saw a movie," Kory said fondly.
"But what's with the sun?" Beth asked, squinting up at it. "We aren't back on Earth, are we?"
The landscape resembled the park they'd just lefta little raggeder around the edges, the colors less bright, but still beautiful. She glanced over her shoulder. The Gate on this side was also golden, but smaller and plainer. It, too, was guarded by a set of armored knights.
"Perhaps in a land much closer to it than Underhill," Kory said, considering. "Or perhaps it is merely there for decoration. Either way, we will not be here long."
"Lead on, Kemosabe."
After riding for several hours, through a succession of Gates that led through some eye-poppingly strange places, Kory called a halt.
"We are here." He pointed.
It's the Faire! The old Fairethe one they bulldozed!
For a moment Beth's heart leapt with a pang that was not only homesickness, but nostalgia. The best parts of her young life had been spent at the Faire.
But when she looked again, she realized it wasn't her Faire. There was a scatter of brightly-colored tents and garlanded booths, and banners belled in the soft noontime breeze. But the longer she stared, the less it looked like the SoCal Faire, until she couldn't figure out how she'd ever confused the two.
"It's magic, isn't it?" she asked. "I mean, even more than usual."
"Yes." Kory didn't seem completely happy about it. "But we will take no harm here. Should a warrior meet his worst enemy at the Goblin Market, he must smile and pass him by. No weapon may be drawn in anger here, no power summoned to bind or harm a foe. Here is the place where all worlds meet. Even yours."
"I guess that's why it all looks so familiar," Beth joked, trying to conceal her unease.
"Do not trust it," Kory said. "The Goblin Market is . . ." He seemed to be at a loss for words. "It is a neutral place. In the human expression, 'proceed at your own risk.' If you come here, they feel you have accepted the risk."
"Gotcha," Beth said. "Lead on." She forced a smile, feigning a confidence she did not feel.
They entered the Market between two black-and-white striped postsabout eighteen feet tall and slender and straight as teenaged telephone poles. Kory turned Mach Five sharply left, riding along the edge of the fair until he reached what was obviously a parking lot of sorts. There were lines of hitching posts right out of the Old West, but the things hitched to them were anything but ordinary.
There were horses, both in the usual range of colors and in all the colors of the rainbow. Some she recognized as elvensteeds, others were ordinary horses, and some of them were neither one, but something else entirely in a horse's shape. But that wasn't the extent of the livestock. There were giant ostriches. Bridled lizards that hissed and snapped as the two of them passed. Even a hippogriffhalf horse, half eagle.
Motorcycles. Bicycles. Hovercraft that looked like they'd been assembled by a mad Victorian inventor. A genuine antique Model A flivver painted a glaring yellow. A classic VW Beetle with an iridescent paint job. It flashed its headlights at them, but Beth was already staring past it, at a brass bed with ornate bed-knobs, complete down to the patchwork quilt and lace-trimmed pillows, that hovered several inches off the ground.
"I guess people come here from all over," Beth said in a strained voice. Next to the brass bed was a carousel horse that turned its head to watch them as they passed. Beyond it was a green tiger with purple stripes wearing a saddle and a glittering rhinestone collar.
"From everywhere there is," Kory answered. Beth was cheered to realize that he was staring just as hard as she was. "And from some places there aren't."
They found an empty post a safe distance from some of the more irritable mounts, and dismounted. The elvensteeds would stay unless summoned, and were more than capable of defending themselves.
"Hi, there. Need a guide?"
Beth stared. She was looking at a fox. A talking, five-foot-tall, cartoon-style fox. It was wearing a red James Dean jacket. Around its neck was a gold collar with a gold tag dangling from it. Engraved on the tag were the letters "FX."
"Special effect"? Oh, yeah. . . .
It swished its tail, and Beth blinked again. Not tail. Tails. Three of them, in fact.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the creature said, with a deep sweeping bow. "I am Foxtrot-X-ray. But you can call me Fox. Or you can call me handsome. Or you can call me adorable. Just call me, beautiful lady!"
"Uh, hi," Beth said, smiling in spite of herself. "Come here often?"
Kory had come to her side and was regarding Fox warily. Fox grinned, exposing a mouthful of gleaming teeth. "Hey, pretty lady, are you doubting my expertise?"
"No," Kory answered bluntly. "Only your sincerity."
"I'm hurt," Fox said, though he didn't sound it. "But if you'll pardon me for mentioning it, Sieur Sidhe, it's plain to see that this is your first time at our lovely fair, and I thought you might like a little help. No offense."
"And you would offer us this help freely?" Kory asked.
"Naw-w-w . . . but I figure, high-class folks like you, you might have a little something to make it worth my while. And I know where everything is. You could spend days wandering around here by yourselves."
"We don't" Kory began. Beth put a hand on his arm. Hadn't Ria said to consult experts? If this creature was on the level, he could save them from spending a lot of time here, and Beth had the feeling that the less time they spent at the Fair, the better.
"I suppose you have references?" Beth asked.
"Absolutely!" Out of nowhere Fox produced a large parchment scroll tied with a bright red ribbon. He yanked the ribbon free, and the scroll unrolled.
And unrolled . . .
And unrolled. . . .
Beth walked over and peered down at it. It was covered in writing from many different hands, some of them even in English.
"Much have I travel'd in the realms of gold/And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;/Round many western islands have I been/Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.J. Keats." She read. "He's the best there is at what he does, even if what he does sometimes isn't very nice.W. Logan." "Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean.R. Chandler."
"Ri-i-i-ight," Beth said, sighing. "C'mon, Kory."
"No, wait!" Fox yelped, jumping in front of them. The scroll vanished. "I'm one of the good guys! And youyou're those folks that saved the Sun-Descending Nexus, aren't you?"
There was a hiss as Kory's sword cleared its scabbard.
"Who asks?" the elven knight demanded in a low dangerous voice. Beth stared at him. Hadn't he said it was dangerous to draw steel at the fair?
Fox jumped back in terror or a good imitation, ears flat and eyes wide. "I've got friendsin the World Above. Friends of yours, too." He held his hands wide in a gesture of harmlessness.
"Names," Kory said, his blade still pointed at Fox's throat.
"Keighvin Silverhairwell, he's not really a friend of mine, but I do know somebody who knows him. Tannim. You knowhe races cars at Elfhame Fairgrove?"
The names meant nothing to Beth, but they seemed to mean something to Kory. He sheathed his sword again and held out his hand. "The references again."
This time, Fox produced, not a scroll, but a perfectly mundane envelope, with the logo of a Holiday Inn on it. Kory opened the envelope and withdrew a single sheet of paper. Beth read over his shoulder.
"To whom it may concern: Fox is okay. Tannim."
The words flared bright with magic, and slowly vanished from the page. Kory handed the paper and the envelope back to Fox.
"Very well. But I know your kind, kitsune. The fox kin are tricksters all," Kory said sternly.
"Yeah, but me, I got a soft spot in my heart for suckers," Fox snickered. "And you did say you'd pay."
Kitsune were Japanese fox-spirits, tricksters like Coyote or Raven. But the pranks they played were often harmless, and there were legends of them helping people in need, or so Beth had read.
"I said no such" Kory stopped himself. "What do you want?"
Fox drew himself up with an elaborate display of unconcern. "Well, I couldn't help noticing when you rode in that you've got some fine trade items with you. Like . . . chocolate?" The kitsune licked its chops with a long pink tongue. "There's this girl I know. She's just crazy about chocolate, and I kind of thought . . ." He looked hopeful and abashed all at once, black-tipped ears swiveling out to the side. Beth wondered if that fur was as soft as it looked.
"If we give you chocolate, will you take us where we needwhere we want to go?" Beth asked, catching herself just in time. One lesson that had stuck with her from all her fairy-tale reading was that the Fair Folk could be as literal-minded as any computer, and positively reveled in the chance to lead you into disaster by doing exactly what you said.
"Hey, pretty lady, I told you: I'm on the side of the angels. Give me chocolate, and I'm yours to command!" Fox said eagerly.
Beth turned back to Bredana and fumbled with the buckle on the saddlebag, reaching inside and pulling out one of the big Hershey bars. They'd brought smaller ones, but it didn't pay to be stingy. She tossed it to Fox, who examined it carefully, held it under his nose as if it were a fine cigar, and then tucked it away inside his jacket, regarding her brightly.
"We need to find an information specialist," she said carefully. "Someone with a lot of access and resources, who can do research on a project of ours and come up with answers. Trustworthy and reliable a plus."
"Woo-hoo!" Fox said. "You don't want much, do you? A research geek who stays bought. I mightmight!know someone like that."
"We don't care what you know," Kory interrupted. "You offered to guide us through the fair to where information about such a person can be found."
"O-kay, Mister Spockmeaning no offense, milord" How Fox could grovel and look impudent at the same time was a mystery to Beth, but somehow the kitsune managed it. "If that's what you want, that's what you get." He bowed elaborately again, hand over his heart, tails lashing. "Follow me."
They followed Fox into the Fair, past a large sign that read "No Violence Beyond This Point." That explained why Kory had been able to get away with drawing his sword in the parking lot, at least.
The Market was a swirl of distraction and color. Beth held tight to Kory's hand, fearing to lose him in the crowds. This wasn't like Elfland, where, weird as it was, everything seemed to be drawn from the same basic set of givens. The Sidhe were fond of experimenting with their forms, changing shape and size and color to suit a momentary whim, but here, a thousand totally-different realities rubbed shoulders. She saw men in medieval armor as elaborate as Kory's, and others in what she could only think of as space-armor, with blasters at their sides. There were anthropomorphic animals, things that looked like they'd walked right out of the Cantina scene of Star Wars, creatures whose bodies had the bright flatness of two-dimensional cartoons, and others that seemed to be humans (dressed in everything from feathers to blue jeans), or robots, and some who were both, like the woman whose body seemed to be made of golden rings, the featureless face dominated by a glowing turquoise bar where the eyes should have been. She moved with the grace of a dancer, and Beth craned her head to watch until she disappeared from sight.
But the fair-goers, exotic as they were, paled to normalcy beside the stalls of the vendors and the wares they sold. Half the stuff was so weird she couldn't even imagine what it was, other wares were so prosaic it was somehow an even greater shocklike the bookstall displaying a collection of paperbacks that wouldn't have been out of place on the shelves of any Barnes & Noble. The air was filled with smellscooking food, fresh fruit, perfume, incense, wood smokeand she heard scraps of music ranging from medieval to heavy metal.
Meanwhile, Fox led them on a twisting trail among the booths. To call their progress labyrinthine would be a grave insult to labyrinths everywhere. She lost all sense of direction after the first few turns, and could no longer tell where they were in relation to where they'd left the elvensteeds.
It was all too much. Beth clutched tighter at Kory's hand, feeling a familiar sense of vertigo and panic begin to overwhelm her. Everything was closing in, crushing her. . . .
No! Beth Kentraine, you are stronger than that! You've shopped at Macy's during the Christmas rush, by the Gods. You are not going to be gotten the better of by one lousy interdimensional Bazaar of the Bizarre!
She took a deep breath and held it, willing the panic to fade. Fox appeared at her side, looking worried.
"You okay?" he asked anxiously.
Kory stopped, looking at her questioningly. She could see fear in his eyeswhether for her, or of the Fair, or both, she wasn't sure. Beth let her held breath out slowly, willing calm.
"It's a little much," she said, and was pleased that her voice was steady.
"There's no place like this place anywhere near this place, so this place must be the place," Fox answered gaily. "Chin up, pretty lady. We're almost there. And you look like you could use a drink."
"A good stiff one," Beth muttered to herself.
They'd been moving in toward the center of the Fair, where tents replaced the booths and were mixed with more permanent structures.
"Up ahead," Fox said, pointing.
Surfeited with wonders, and used as she was to the Underhill habit of co-opting bits of the World Above and turning them to their own uses, she still wasn't prepared for what she saw when she looked where Fox was pointing. At the end of the lane was a large stucco building in a Moorish style. Its wooden double doors were studded with large square hobnails, and over the door was a blue neon sign that said "Rick's Cafe Americain."
It looked exactly like the Warner's set.
"Everybody goes to Rick's," she and Fox said in chorus. He looked hurt, as if she'd stepped on his punch-line.
"Casablanca used to be one of my favorite movies," Beth said darkly. Humphrey Bogart, where are you when we need you?
"Hey, I didn't design it," Fox protested. "But this is what you guys said you wanted."
"A place to find the specialist we need?" Kory asked suspiciously.
"Rick knows everything that happens at the Market, and a lot of other places, too," Fox said. "He'll know where you can find this researcheror someone else there will."
Beth looked at Kory and shrugged. She guessed a bar was as good a place as any to start looking, especially when you weren't quite sure what you were looking for.
As they watched, the doors opened, and a large white rabbit stepped out, blinking at the daylight. He was wearing an elaborate waistcoat, with an ornate watch chain hooked across the front. He pulled a large gold watch from his pocket and gazed at it, then hurried off muttering to himself.
"Come on," Beth said.
"Uh-uh. This is where I leave you," Fox answered. "I'm not . . . well, let's say that Rick would prefer I didn't come inside after what happened the last time. You know how it is."
"The letters of transit are hidden in Sam's piano," Beth said cryptically.
"And Rosebud was his sled," Fox answered, mixing movies with gleeful relish. "Well, see you around."
"Be sure of that, if you've led us astray," Kory answered.
Fox vanished with a pop, like a soap bubble in a cartoon. A moment later, just his head reappeared, floating in midair like a fanciful balloon. "And don't say I didn't warn you," it said, and vanished.
"Although he didn't," Kory footnoted. "Though the Market itself is warning enough, I think."
"I thought I told you not to say that!" Fox reappeared, shaking a finger at them warningly and vanishing again instantly.
Beth shook her head, sighing. "Is everything here like him?" I don't think I can deal with Life As Sitcom.
"We'll see, won't we?" Kory answered. He took her hand once more, and the two of them walked up to the door.
It took a moment for Beth's eyes to adjust to the gloom, but once she did, they widened. The inside had no connection to the tumble-down exterior, nor to the movie Casablanca. It was several times larger than the outside, for one thing. For another, it looked like the unnatural liaison of an MGM musical and a Turkish bordello.
The central area directly ahead was filled with small round tables swathed in immaculate white linen, most of them occupied. Beyond them was a dance floor that looked as if it had been carved from one giant slab of blue goldstone. Its surface glittered like a starfield, and behind it stood a bandstand with an old-fashioned stand mike and a glistening white piano. To the right, the wall was lined with a series of curtained alcoves, their gold draperies shimmering. Some of the curtains were drawn backBeth couldn't see the occupants very well, but she could see glowing eyes in a variety of colorsand arrangementsand pulled her gaze quickly away.
To her left was the bara long glowing sweep of something that looked like purple mahogany. Behind it stood the barkeep, in white dinner jacket and black bow tie, rubbing the surface with an immaculate polishing cloth. He looked just like Humphrey Bogartif Humphrey Bogart had bright blue skin, long pointed ears and a ponytail.
"That must be Rick," Kory said. Beth nodded. Okay, it's official. I've sprained my Sense of Wonder. . . .
As they stood there, two men passed them, leaving. One was huge, muscled like Arnold Schwarzenegger. He had bright red hair and a beard, and was dressed in bearskins and a long red cloak. His companion barely came to his elbow, as small and slender as the other was huge, and dressed all in gray, down to his hooded cloak.
"I told you we shouldn't have come here, little man," Redbeard said.
"Ah, where's your sense of adventure? Even a barbarian like you" the rest of Greycloak's rejoinder was lost as they exited.
Funny. Those guys look almost familiar. . . .
"Come on," Kory said. He led Beth to the bar, where they found seats between a red-headed woman carrying a sword and dressed in a bikini that seemed to be made entirely out of silver disks and a six-foot ferret wearing a gold collar and drinking tea in the Russian style.
"What'll you have?" Rick approached them.
"Water," Kory answered, pushing a gold coin across the gleaming wood.
"Lemonade," Beth said. "And information."
"Ah. Drink I've always got." The barkeep brought two tall glasses and a black bottle from beneath the bar, making the coins vanish at the same time. He poured both glasses fullbut while Kory's glass was full of clear still water, Beth's was filled with lemonade, sliced lemons, and ice.
"Neat trick," she said.
"It passes the time," Rick said, smiling Bogie's crooked smile. His teeth were long and white and very pointed. "Oh, by the way. A friend left this for you. Said you'd be wanting it."
Beth stared at the blue ceramic ashtray for a minute before the penny dropped. She giggled. "Fox didn't lead us a-stray. He led us to an ashtray. . . ." Incorrigible punster: do not incorrige.
She missed the little critter already. Almost.
"And information?" Kory asked.
"Well, now, that depends," Rick drawled. "On who's asking, and what for. Don't believe everything you've heard about this place."
"What I heard is that here we might be able to find a research specialist. We are looking for information."
"If you can't find it in an Elfhame, that must be some information," Rick said. "Well, this is the Cafe Americain. You may find what you're looking for. 'Scuse me." He moved quickly down the bar toward a new customer.
Beth picked up her lemonade. Frost was forming on the glass. She sipped. Tart and sweet, not too much sugar, just the way she liked it. "I wonder what he'd have done if I asked for coffee?" she asked idly.
"Brought you a cup," Kory said. "Or if you had asked for Coca-Cola, or the Red Wine of Hengist, or ambrosia, or human blood. The laws of other realms do not apply here."
"Um," Beth said. An anarchist's paradiseno law but your own common sense. But freedom was a double-edged sword. If you could do anything you wanted, you could manage to get yourself into real trouble, too, with no one and nothing to get you out.
Several musicians had moved onto the stage and were setting up their instrumentsa full-sized concert harp, a cello, violins, and a flute. They were all dressed in the height of 17th-century fashion, in lace, pink satin, and powdered wigs, but not one of them was human. There was a badger, a frog, something that looked more like an owl than notalthough it had hands and fingersa sheep, and some others whose species she couldn't place from what she saw. Once everything was arranged, they began to play. The music matched their garb, stately and baroque. Several couples got up from their tables and moved onto the dance floor.
Rick didn't look like he was coming back their way any time soon. "Why don't we go get one of the tables?" Beth suggested. "I'd kind of like to watch the floor show." She picked up her glass.
The entertainment at Rick's was certainly eclectic. The chamber-music group was followed by a black-leather-garbed crooner doing vintage rockabilly, but in a language Beth didn't know. His face was long and lupinenot quite a wolf, but not human either. More like a B-movie werewolf than anything else, Beth decided.
"You the folks lookin' for help?"
The speaker had slipped into a vacant chair while Beth was watching the stage. She lookedthough by now Beth doubted anything here was exactly what it seemedlike a teenaged girl, and though it was hard to hear beneath the music, Beth thought she spoke English with a pronounced American accent. She had fire-engine-red hair with a silver streak in the front; it hung in an unkempt shoulder-length mop, and her eyes were the bright foil-green of Christmas paper. She was wearing a white T-shirt, a black vest, Levis, and motorcycle boots with spurs. Strapped to one leg was a battered and clangingly futuristic firearm.
"We're looking for information," Kory answered warily.
"Same dif." The girl signaled a waitress, who hurried over and set a drink in front of the girl. The drink was pink, with a paper parasol stuck in the top, and it smoked. The waitress hovered pointedly until Kory handed over another gold coin.
"So. Why don'cha tell me a little about yourselves?" The girl picked up her drinkshe was wearing white leather driving glovesand sipped daintily, wincing. "This stuff'll kill you."
"I am Sieur Korendil of Elfhame Misthold, and this is my lady, Beth Kentraine."
"Pleased ta. You can call me Cho-cho. What kind of information?"
"Can you help us find it?" Beth asked.
"Depends. You're Seleighe Court, right? I don't do business with the other guys."
"Would you believe us if we said we were? If we were of the Dark Court, we'd lie," Kory pointed out.
"You lie to me, buster, and you don't get a chance to do it twice," Cho-cho said. "I got connections." For a moment she seemed to shimmer, and Beth felt a flash of cold, as if someone had opened the door to a walk-in freezer. "But we'll take that as a 'yes.' Now. Here's the giggy. You tell me what you want, the more details the better, and I tell you if I can supply it. Then we argue about the price."
"Fair enough, Mistress Cho-cho," Kory answered. "Beth?"
Beth took a deep breath. Telling Ria her problem had been hard enough, but telling this total stranger was downright embarrassing.
"Kory and I want to have a baby together. More than one, actually."
"Mazel tov," Cho-cho said, sipping her drink. "There's more?"
"It takes magic. But the only methods we've been able to find are . . . Unseleighe," Beth said delicately. "We're looking for another way. So we need help. Research help."
"Huh. You wanna find something out, ask a librarian. Or somebody with a library." Cho-cho smiled, as if at a private joke.
"Do you know someone possessing such resources who would be willing to help us?" Kory asked.
"You need another drink," Cho-cho said. She signaled the waitress and turned away from them to watch the stage.
A waitress brought their drinks. The wolf-boy left the stage, to be replaced by a torch singer and her accompanist. The singer was wheeled out onto the stage in a large crystal fishbowl, her silvery tail glinting in the houselights. Her accompanist was a satyrChippendales dancer above, goat below. His horns were gilded, and his eyes were elaborately painted in the Egyptian style. The mermaid reached out of her bowl to grasp the mike and began to sing: "Stormy Weather."
Cho-cho sat through a medley of Cole Porter hits in silence. Finally she turned back to them.
"I got a line on a guy," she said. "If he don't know it, he can find it. Whether he'll help, that's between you and him, but he's got a kind of soft spot for humans with problems, and he's on the side of the angels, more or less. What you pay me don't cover what you'll owe him. I can tell you where to find him, that's all."
Beth glanced at Kory. His face was unreadable.
Was this a good idea? A stranger who could help, but might not? On the other hand, she didn't see anyone else lining up to help them. She nodded ever so slightly.
"And your price for this informationhis name and his location both?" Kory asked.
"What've you got?" Cho-cho asked with interest.
"Gold?"
She snorted. "I can make that myself."
"Coffee?"
"I look like a wire-head to you, Mister Korendil?"
Kory shrugged. Neither of them knew what a "wire-head" might be, but it seemed to eliminate coffee as a bargaining chip. "I take it then that you would find neither chocolate nor Coca-Cola suitable either?"
For a moment she looked wistful, then shook her head firmly. "Can't use 'em."
"You must have something in mind," Beth said, playing a hunch.
"Sure. Depends on if your friend'll go for it, though."
Kory regarded the girl inquiringly.
"Safe passage through the elven lands."
So it all comes down to "Letters of Transit" in the end, Beth thought wryly. She wasn't sure how big a deal that was, and Kory's face gave nothing away, but Beth thought he'd twitched, just a little.
"And I to stand surety for whatever you do there," Kory said through gritted teeth.
"I don't want to do anything there," Cho-cho said. "All I want . . ." She stopped. "I just want to go home. They need me there."
"Wherever 'home' is, there are other avenues to reach it," Kory said. "From here, you can go anywhere."
Cho-cho shook her head. "You know how it is. 'You can't get there from here'? Believe me, I've tried, for longer than the two of you have been on this earth, kids. The only clear way is through the elven lands . . . and I'd rather not mess with the Dark Court. We got a history, y'see."
Everybody here seemed to have a history of one kind or another. "And where is home?" Beth asked.
Cho-cho grimaced. "You pay for that info, too, if you really want it, and I don't think you can afford it."
"You ask a high price for your help," Kory said.
"You don't have anything else I want," Cho-cho said simply. "Maybe someone else here wants what you got. And maybe they don't have anything you want. Your choice."
Impasse. The two parties stared across the table at each other, neither willing to give in.
"If I were to give you a letter of safe conductunder guardto my lord, Prince Arvindel of Elfhame Misthold, you might plead your case to him. More I will not do. Nor," Kory added, smiling a wolflike smile, "can I guarantee he will hear you, should he know more of you than I."
There was a long pause. Beth held her breath, afraid that Cho-cho would get up and walk away. "It isn't much," the girl grumbled.
"Nor is what you offer us. Only hope, no more."
"Okay," she said, putting both hands on the table. "We have a deal. You don't mind if I get the goods up front, do you?"
"I would expect nothing less," Kory answered.
Cho-cho snapped her fingers, and an iridescent lizard-maiden with improbable gauzy butterfly wings came over to the table. She had a tray slung around her neck, like the cigarette girls in old-time nightclubs. Beth couldn't see what it held.
"Pen, ink, paper, and seals," Cho-cho said.
It must have been an ordinary sort of request, because the lizard-woman produced the objects without hesitation from among the contents of her tray. Cho-cho pointed, and she set them in front of Kory. He dipped the pen into the inkwell and wrote: the letters sparkled and seemed to sink into the vellum as he inscribed them flourishingly. When he was done, he took off his seal-ring and picked up one of the disks of wax. He placed it on the paper and touched it with a finger. It softened and glistened, suddenly hot, and he pressed the ring into it until the wax began to harden.
Cho-cho reached for it. Kory didn't let go.
"Now you."
Cho-cho sighed. "Okay. This guy I know . . . you know anything about dealing with dragons?"
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Beth asked, quite a long time later.
They were standing in the middle of . . . nothing. Grey river mist surrounded them, thick and warm. It smelled like jasmine. The ground beneath the elvensteeds' hooves was covered with thick white sand. It sparkled whenever the sun broke through the mist above.
It was morningagain. They'd passed through so many different time zones that Beth wasn't completely sure how much time had passed. Elves didn't need sleep, of course, but she had the jet-laggy feeling that it was two million o'clock in the morning. If she fell asleep, Bredana would see to it that she didn't fall off, but Beth was hoping for a real bed. And soon.
Cho-cho had given them a nameChinthlissand drawn them a map. Or more precisely, she'd drawn an arrow on a map, but the arrow always pointed in the direction they needed to go. Ahead of them stood a Gate. Kory had examined it. It held only one destination, and Kory thought it led directly into the dragon's lair. Apparently this Chinthliss didn't mind being easy to find, and Beth knew enough about the Underhill way of doing things to know that meant he had powerpower enough to deal with any enemies who might come calling.
He also seemed to have a sense of humor.
She looked at the sign that stood beside the Gate again. It was battered and weathered. Painted on it in English in big black letters were the words: "I'd turn back if I were you. Signed, the Management."
"Fair enough," Beth said aloud. "But we aren't going to."
The Gate itself was hugetwo stories high, and wide enough to drive a matched team of semis throughand solid bronze. The decoration seemed to be more Oriental than anything else, flowers and birds and branching trees.
"But we are going to be very careful," Kory said seriously. "Dragons are very particular about matters of etiquette. It would not do to annoy him."
"Best behavior and company manners," Beth agreed. She yawned, unable to stifle it.
They dismounted, and led their horses forward past the sign. There was a large square red button at doorbell height at the edge of the frame. Beth was pretty sure it hadn't been there a moment ago. She looked closer. There was writing on it, one word: enter.
"Press 'Enter,' " Beth said. Something with this kind of a sense of humor couldn't be all bad, could it?
Kory pressed the button. With a shudder that seemed to shake the world, the great bronze doors swung inward, opening into mist. Kory reached out and took her hand, and slowly they walked forward, leading the horses.
They were in a hall. Its scale made the doors they'd just come through look petite. The walls were yellow, lined with enormous pillars painted Chinese red, and the floor was black. Burning torches in bronze baskets lined the walls, their glow almost lost in the chamber's vast dimensions. The air smelled of incense. Several football fields of distance away, a long flight of shallow stairs led to a curtained archway. On each step stood a large porcelain cache pot, each filled with a full-sized flowering tree. They were completely alone, and nobody seemed to be rushing to welcome them.
"Now what?" Beth asked in a whisper.
"Now we offer gifts and wait, most respectfully, for that is the first rule when dealing with dragons." Kory turned to Mach Five and opened his saddlebags. He began piling the trade goods they'd brought on the floor in front of them. Beth emptied her saddlebags as well. Four six-packs of Coke, twenty pounds of Hershey bars, and several large bags of whole-bean Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee. They looked very odd sitting in the middle of the floor of a dragon's temple.
"Great Chinthliss," Kory said after a few moments, "please grace us with your presence. We have traveled far to seek your wise counsel."
The curtains opened, and a slender man stepped out and slowly began to walk down the stairs. He was wearing an impeccable Armani business suit in a deep rich bronze, and instead of a regular necktie, a bolo tie around his neck, held closed with a bronze jewel at the throat.
Uh-oh. Looks like he's sending in the high-priced lawyers.
As the man came closer, Beth could see that he had skin the color of old ivory and brilliant amber eyes. His gleaming black hair was almost waist-length, brushed straight back from a high forehead and a deep widow's peak, and his topaz eyes gleamed from beneath heavy lids. He looked vaguely but not entirely Oriental. More like . . .
A brow like Shakespeare and eyes like a tiger . . . Holy Mother, we're having tea with Fu Manchu!
"Enchanté, madame," he said, bowing over her hand. His shirt was linen, with French cuffs, and the cuff links and the slide of the bolo tie both were in the same design: a curled bronze dragon with gleaming amber eyes. He smelled faintly of burning cinnamon. "How lovely to make the acquaintance of one so fair."
He turned to Korendil, who inclined his head respectfully. "Lord Chinthliss."
"He's the dragon?" Beth blurted, unable to stop herself.
Chinthliss regarded her, one eyebrow raised. Though his expression was bland, Beth could swear he was laughing at her.
"Does my appearance disappoint you, fair lady?" he asked mildly.
"I was expecting someone taller," Beth said, startled into bluntness by lack of sleep.
"Like this?"
The man was gone, his form dissolving like mist. In his place stood a dragon. A very big dragon. A gleaming bronze dragon big enough to fill the entire hall. His tail snaked up the stairs, its tip hidden behind the curtain, and his mantled wings brushed the walls. He lowered his headit was the size of a busdown to Beth's eye level, and regarded her with glowing yellow eyes. Tendrils of steam curled from his nostrils, and Beth could feel heat radiating from him as if from a stove.
"Um . . . yeah," she said weakly. "That'll do."
The dragon bared its teeth in a draconic grin.
"Excellent. I would hate to disappoint so fair a guest." The dragon was gone, and in his place stood the Oriental gentleman once more. "But you have come a long way and are weary from your journey. Please. Allow me to offer you the poor comforts of my little house. We can discuss your business after you have rested." He snapped his fingers. Two women appeared, dressed in full kimono. Except for the fact that they were slightly transparent, they looked as if they'd just stepped out of a Japanese scroll painting. "My servants will see to your animals."
The geisha took the elvensteeds' reins and led the horses toward the wall, vanishing before they reached it.
"Come." Chinthliss beckoned, smiling.
They followed him back up the long flight of stairs. Beyond the curtain was . . . a palace. High windows opened onto vistas of exquisite gardens that seemed to stretch into infinity. The walls were covered with painted murals done with such skill that it was hard to tell where the real garden ended and the painted one began. Beth tried not to gawk.
"I trust you will find these poor accommodations to your liking," Chinthliss said, stopping in front of another set of double doors. These were of sandalwood, carved and oiled until they gleamed like gold. They opened at a touch.
"Thank you," Beth said. "You're very kind."
The dragon smiled. "And now I will leave you. Do not hesitate to summon any of my servants to see to your needs." He bowed.
Beth stepped inside, Kory following. The suite was decorated with as much lavish ornamentation as the rest of the palace, but was obviously scaled to human size and needs. There were Western-style couches and chairs, a bookcase filled with books, and at the far end of the room stood an enormous canopy bed. Golden dragons twined about its ebony posts, and the hangings were all of scarlet silk embroidered in gold. In the center of the room stood a table filled with covered dishes. Whatever they contained smelled wonderful.
"My," Beth said.
"We are safe, for now," Kory said. His sword and armor had vanished, and he was dressed in more ordinary clothes. He approached the table and lifted one of the silver covers.
"Hey, look at this!" Beth had gone through the doorway to the right of the bed. She was standing in a bathroom that any Roman emperor would have killed for. A tub big enough to do laps in stood in the middle of the room. "Big enough for two," she said invitingly, when Kory joined her.
"Yes." Kory put an arm around her. "Why not? It would be churlish of us not to accept what is offered." He walked over to the tub and touched one of the tapsgold, in the shape of a leaping dolphin. Water immediately began jetting from it, filling the tub with hot water and perfumed bubbles. "And then you will eat and rest," he said firmly.
"And after that, business."
Beth couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so well and so deeply. She awoke in the morningor at least, after long slumberto the smell of bacon and eggs, and sat up in bed to see more of the semi-transparent servants laying the table for breakfast.
"Good morning," Kory said, sitting down on the bed beside her. "Did you sleep well?"
Elves didn't sleepnot under normal conditions, at any rate. More time for them to get into trouble, Beth had always thought, but lately she'd started to wonder what it was really like to have all that free time. It was almost as if Kory had a secret life, one she couldn't be any part of.
She yawned and stretched, banishing all such vague morning thoughts. "Did you have a good night?"
"The tea was hot, and the books were entertaining," Kory answered seriously. "And I had a great deal of time to think. Dragons are . . . experts at solving the problem we face. He can help us, I think, if he will."
"But what will he want for his help?" Beth said. Kory stood, and she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "That's the real question, isn't it? Whether we can afford to pay?"
"For your happinessfor Maeve'sI will pay any price, but"
"But some prices are too high," Beth finished firmly. Nothing that would endanger the elves, or anyone else for that matter. "Well, we'll see."
One of the nice things about magic was that the food was always hot, Beth reflected. They were just finishingbacon and eggs, blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup, fresh-squeezed orange juice, herb teawhen there was a knock at the door. It opened, and instead of one of the little flowerlike geisha, the travelers were presented with the awesome sight of a Real English Butler in full formal livery.
"Good morning, Lord Korendil, Mistress Bethany. May I trust that you have found everything to your satisfaction?" His accent was as English as the BBC.
"Of course," Kory said graciously. "And we are looking forward to speaking with your master at his earliest convenience."
The butler bowed. "I believe Lord Chinthliss is in the conservatory at this hour. If you would care to accompany me to his receiving room, I shall inform him that you are awake."
Chinthliss's receiving room bore a strong resemblance to the library of an English country gentleman. There was an Oriental rug on the floor, and the oak-paneled walls were lined in books. A massive desk with a top carved from a single slab of green malachite dominated the area before the windows, which gave a magnificent view of a formal garden. If the view didn't match that available from the other windows, Beth didn't mind. This was magic, after all.
As they had been left to their own devices, she wandered around the room. There were some surprises: the elaborate stereo system tucked into one corner
Nakamichi. Nice. I wonder how he runs it down here without electricity?
The silver-framed photos on the walls were another thing that didn't quite fit in with Beth's notions of a feudal draconic sorcerer: most of them were of race-car drivers, and signed.
Tannim Drake . . . Brian Simo . . . Doc Bundy . . . Fox mentioned someone named Tannim was a friend of Chinthliss . . . can't see Fox driving a race car, somehow.
She looked again at the black-haired young man, caught in the act of giving a grinning thumbs-up in front of his car. The words "Fairgrove Test Driver" could be seen on his coveralls. She'd heard of Elfhame Fairgrove. I guess Eric and I aren't the only ones who've fallen in with elvish companions.
Hanging near the picture of Tannim was a carved rosewood shrine, its doors standing open. Inside, on a small purple velvet pillow, stood another incongruous item: a Ford key, with a Mustang logo key chain. Obviously this was an item the dragon cherished. I don't suppose I'll ever find out the story behind all this.
The door of the study opened, and Chinthliss entered. He was dressed as he had been before, in the height of Western fashion, and this morning had added a set of lightly-mirrored designer shades to his ensemble. You could have dropped him anywhere in Hollywood and not raised a single eyebrow.
"My young friends. I trust you are now refreshed from your journey?" He crossed the room and seated himself behind the vast desk. "And now, what is it that I can do for you? Please, be frank."
How can I be Frank when I'm already Beth? she thought, but while she would certainly have answered Fox that way, Chinthliss seemed far too dignified to descend to the level of a punning contest. She and Kory sat on the chairs arranged in front of the desk.
"I I'm not sure where to begin," Beth said hesitantly. She glanced at Kory. He shrugged minutely.
"I always find it is best to begin at the beginning," Chinthliss told her.
Begin at the beginning, go on till you get to the end, then stop. Humpty-Dumpty's advice to Alice echoed through her mind. C'mon, Kentraine. You've made harder speeches. Beth took a deep breath and began.
Haltingly, she explained the whole storyabout meeting Kory for the first time, her desire to start a family with him, about Maeve, and wanting her to grow up with brothers and sisters around her. It seemed to take a long time to tell, and Beth found herself rambling. Finally she stopped.
"And you, Sieur Korendil?" the dragon asked. "Do you concur?"
"All that she says is true," Kory said. A look of wistfulness crossed his face. "To have childrenchildren of our own . . . that would be a blessing such as I had never hoped for, before I met Beth. Yet some prices are too high to pay."
"Perenor didn't think so," the dragon observed.
"Perenor was wrong," Kory said flatly. "To create new life, yes. But not at the expense of the suffering and death of others."
"Agreed," the dragon said. "And I'm delighted to tell you that my library does contain the information you seek."
"So all we have to do is get inside," Beth said.
Chinthliss raised his eyebrows, and said nothing.
He's waiting for us to offer him something.
Beth thought hard. What could she possibly offer someone of Chinthliss' resources? He didn't need money, that was for sure, and she doubted there was anything the elves could do for him that he couldn't do for himself.
She had an idea.
"That's a pretty nice music system you've got there."
Chinthliss preened. "A gift from a friend."
"Kind of hard to get CDs here, though, isn't it?" she asked idly. "Oh, well, I guess Amazon can ship just about anywhere, these days. And there's always MP3s."
"Alas." Chinthliss looked regretful. "I regret to say that even with all my arts, it has so far been impossible for me to get Internet access here. Computers, you see . . ." He shrugged.
Gotcha! Beth crowed silently.
The horse trading began in earnest.
Chinthliss insisted they remain his guests for the rest of the day, but the following morning saw Beth and Kory on the road once more, headed back for Elfhame Misthold. Without the need to make the side trip to the Goblin Market, the trip home should be relatively short and uneventful.
"This is great!" Beth said. "Chinthliss' library contains everything ever written about cross-species reproductionand he'll let us spend as much time there as we need."
"Once we have met his price," Kory reminded her. "A computer that works Underhillhow are you ever going to deliver such a thing?"
"If his Nakamichi works there, a computer will, too. Computers are mostly plastic these days, and the newest models don't need a phone line to hook up to the net." Beth grinned, sensing victory within her grasp. "All I need to know is where to shop and what to buy. As for finding that out . . . I'm going to consult another expert."