Pasgen stepped out of the fourth Gate he had transited on his way home from Rhoslyn's domain, frowning. It was a nuisance, he thought, looking around the Goblin Fair, to waste so much time in devising devious routes so that no one could identify his home or Rhoslyn's. Then he smiled. They both had been extra careful since he had found and retrieved the token of Rhoslyn's skin and flesh their mother had given Vidal.
The retrieval had not been very difficult, using the lindys. That was a nice piece of mutual work, Pasgen thought as he walked into the body of the market. Rhoslyn had created the little creatures, but he had modified the spells on them so that they were much more useful.
His eyes lingered for a moment on a memory book displayed open on a counter. Words began to form on the clear blank pages. He sought the key. It was a simple one; he found it and erased the words. He chuckled softly as he turned away. Vidal could use one of those. Likely he did not even know the token was lost . . . if he remembered ever having it.
Pasgen glanced around and oriented himself. He knew the market very well because of passing through so often. Now, which Gate should he use this time? He had sensed no interest in him since he left Rhoslyn's domain and Vidal was not even at Caer Mordwyn. Still, he would take the Gate to that Unformed land that was so peculiarly alive. The echoes that resonated in that mist would totally confuse anything that clung to him.
On his way, he noticed a narrow booth that had no real occupant. A lifeless simulation smiled and beckoned to anyone who approached the booth and proffered a sheet of paper. Doubtless it had a name and address and an explanation of what the owner of the booth offered.
Pasgen hesitated, walked up to the booth and examined it carefully. He did not take the sheet the simulation offered. He was not the least bit interested in torture and murder no matter how lifelike the simulacra were. It was the booth and the idea of advertising for clients that interested him.
Rhoslyn had told him about his mother's desire to set up as a healer—and not confine her work to those of the Unseleighe domains. Pasgen's immediate reaction had been to forbid such a harebrained scheme, but Rhoslyn's suggestion of using the empty house and the change in his mother had both worked on him. He continued to walk toward his goal, now examining the people who patronized the Goblin Fair.
There were every kind. A party of mortals laughing and joking among themselves passed him—possibly changelings stolen from the World Above, but also possibly mortal mages, who had keys to come here. Two Sidhe, definitely Bright Court, came from a side aisle. They glanced at him. One started to raise a hand in greeting and then dropped it. Pasgen lifted the side of his lip. Faery-folk flitted here and there. A group of dark Sidhe came from an aisle opposite the Bright Court Sidhe. They stopped abruptly and stared. Pasgen heard the heavy tramp of an ogre behind him.
Certainly Llanelli was right about there being a wide enough range of folk to be clients. And with a simulacrum—Pasgen had found the lifeless simulation rather unpleasant and Rhoslyn could provide a much better booth-tender—to hand out the sheets and even answer simple questions, Llanelli might well draw some clients.
Whether any Bright Sidhe would be willing to be attended by a Dark Court healer was a different problem entirely. Pasgen hoped not. It would be safer for Llanelli if her clientele was principally Unseleighe or those, like the gnomes and fauns and nymphs, who had allegiance to neither court. But when she explained what she wanted to do, Llanelli was so much more alive, almost what he remembered her to have been like when he and Rhoslyn were children, before Vidal had bent so much of her spirit in trying to break it, and before she had sought oblivion in drugs and Dreaming.
Pasgen swung left and saw ahead of him the area in which those who came to the Fair left their transportation. The Gate he wanted was at the far end of that field. The ogre's steps were getting too close. Pasgen stepped aside between two booths just as four elvensteeds came up to the end of the transport area. He heard the ogre grunt with anger and sheer off in the opposite direction.
Two ancient Bright Court Sidhe slid down from equally ancient elvensteeds. The male hurried over to another elvensteed which was, inexplicably, carrying a young mortal man and held up his arms to . . .
Elizabeth! Pasgen could hardly believe his eyes. That fool Denoriel, just dismounting from his own elvensteed, had brought the girl Underhill! Pasgen's eyes glowed. Now he would have her! The mortals who had passed him a few moments ago would make perfect tools. And had he not seen fauns and nymphs . . . and goblins, too?
The fauns and nymphs could be set to dancing and playing a silly game, then the goblins could try to join in. No matter if the goblins had no evil intent, the nymphs and fauns would panic. Pasgen drew a deep breath of satisfaction. Utter confusion would result—not enough for Removal but enough for his purpose. Pasgen watched for one more moment to be sure that the party was coming in to the Fair and then slipped away in the direction he had seen the mortals going when they passed him.
Denoriel was somewhat anxious about taking Elizabeth to one of the great markets, but Elidir and Mechain and Harry, who had proposed the Goblin Fair because it had more of the kind of toys that might amuse a child, had no doubts. Three Sidhe and a mortal should surely be enough to protect one girl-child at the Goblin Fair which, like the other great markets, did not allow the use of weapons or violence. And, again, he could not bear to disappoint Elizabeth, who was dancing about on her toes—with the winged kitten she had created in her arms—flushed and eager.
The Gate they had almost lost in the mists of the chaos land took them safely back to Old Elves Hame Gate where Elidir called up a subsidiary control plaque. That there could be such a device caused Denoriel to raise his eyebrows. His surprise made the old Sidhe chuckle.
"We could not pattern and repattern," Elidir admitted, "but we could have as many controls as we wanted. True, you have to touch it, not think at it. This one only has the three markets as termini."
"Most of us had nowhere else to go and nothing to do so we used to go to the markets a lot." Mechain laughed. "But since the advent of this busybody—" she smiled at Harry "—we have plenty to keep us occupied. For today though, the Goblin Fair it is."
And darkness and falling were replaced by a enormous open space in which were set, tied, chained, and otherwise fastened every kind of beast and vehicle Elizabeth had ever seen—and a great many that she was sure no one on earth had ever seen. She would have begged to get down and walk, although the distance was considerable, just to look at the weird beasts and even weirder conveyances, but the elvensteeds were already cantering down a wide central aisle to what was apparently an entry to the Fair itself.
A high arch over the aisle said goblin fair and below that all welcome. But directly in front of the arch, so that one had to walk to one side or the other to pass, was a large notice board that said no spells, no drawn weapons, no violence and below those words another line: on pain of permanent removal.
"How strange," Elizabeth said.
"What's strange, love?" Harry asked, and then began to laugh. "Now that was a stupid question. I'm sure everything is pretty strange to you."
"Yes." Elizabeth laughed too, but she pointed to the signs. "It's strange that the words should be in English . . . isn't it?"
"Oh no, they're much stranger than that," Denoriel said, coming up on her other side. "The signs are in any language whoever is looking at them can read. And, I suspect, if the being can't read—like an ogre or an imp—what the sign says makes speech or . . . or just is inside their heads."
"And they mean what they say," Harry said, accepting a silver wire from Denoriel and fastening it across the place where the holder opened to let him seize his gun.
"They do indeed mean what they say," Denoriel warned, wiring the hilt of his sword to the scabbard. "The Removal is permanent. No one I know of has ever found out to where the being is Removed, and I've never heard of anyone coming back either. While you're here, Elizabeth, no spells, no mischief, no fighting."
She shook her head. "Really, Denno, when have you ever known me to strike anyone?"
He laughed. "That tongue of yours can draw blood."
About to riposte as they passed under the arch, instead Elizabeth stopped to stare at still another huge sign blocking the aisle. This one said caveat emptor.
"What language is that sign in, Denno?" she asked.
"Elven for me. What is it for you, Harry?"
"Same as it's always been. Latin. 'Buyer beware.' I wonder why it's in Latin rather than English?"
"To fix your mind on it better," Elizabeth said. "When I have to remember something, I usually write it down in French. Then it sticks in my head."
Denoriel smiled and then sobered. "That's another sign that means what it says. It's said of the Goblin Fair that if you find your heart's desire here and can purchase it, to have it will make your heart break."
But Elizabeth wasn't listening. They had passed around the sign and she was staring from side to side at the brilliantly colored booths with their counters full of an endless variety of goods. She hurried to the right to pick up an exquisite comb carved of horn and set with sparkling jewels. The vendor began to tell her of the wonderful things the comb would do for her hair. He was a tall, very thin being, apparently unclothed except for the flashing scales on his skin. From the way his body bent and his arm curved, he seemed boneless. And when he lifted another comb, seemingly of ivory, Elizabeth could see that his fingers—of which there were too many to count—were webbed almost to their tips.
"Do you want that, dear heart?" Harry asked, a hand on his purse.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth replied, smiling at him, "but not now. We have barely come in." She looked around. "I can see that it is not possible to visit the entire Fair, but I need to look a little farther before I decide." She looked up at the vendor. "Thank you for telling me about the combs. I will remember. We must pass this way to leave the Fair so I will have a second chance to look at your combs."
They went forward a few feet before Elizabeth darted left to examine some ribbons. Those did not hold her long, although they were of colors no person from the World Above would ever see. However, they twisted and writhed in a way that made her think of worms on a hook and she put them down and backed away.
The momentary disgust passed in wonder over a kaleidoscope that showed not patterns of crystals but moving pictures of people at a dinner and then dancing and then climbing a stair and then . . ."Oh!" Elizabeth said; Harry took the tube and put it to his eye, also said, "Oh!" and put the instrument back on the counter.
"My fault," Denoriel said, beginning to laugh. "Look there. It says 'Cycle of Life.' But I didn't know it would show everything."
They wandered on. Mechain bought Elizabeth a frozen treat on a stick. It was lusciously sweet and rich but so cold it made her teeth ache so she could not bite it and it started to melt. That was easily attended. The kitten quickly licked all the drips off her hand and cleaned up the bottom of the stick too.
The vendor there looked mortal, except that his eyes were strange, almost without pupils behind large spectacles. It was safe to eat, Mechain assured Denoriel. But Elizabeth had already gone ahead with Elidir who was showing her a small but beautifully engraved silver mirror. Elizabeth held it up to her face, and gasped.
"What is it, child?" the old Sidhe asked, putting his arm around her as she shuddered and handed him the mirror. He looked, shook his head. "I only see my face, sweetling. What do you see?"
"Also my face," Elizabeth replied, but in a breathless, shaking voice, and tilted the mirror so that it showed both of them.
Elidir looked like Elidir, the skin perhaps a trifle more transparent, the hair whiter, thinner. And Elizabeth looked like Elizabeth, but her face was different, taut with tension, hard with ambition, and the eyes . . . the eyes were almost as old as those of Elidir.
The Sidhe put the mirror down. Elizabeth reached toward it as if she would pick it up, and a squat, wide-mouthed goblin popped up behind the counter.
"The mirror is priceless," the goblin began. "With it you can see inside those you must deal with. You can see—" Its voice checked and its eyes fastened on the kitten, which was suddenly squirming in Elizabeth's grip. "What is that?"
"A kitten," Elizabeth replied, using the hand that had been reaching toward the mirror to stroke the little creature to quiet it.
"With wings?"
She tilted her head to one side. "Ah, I am not quite sure how that came about."
"Can it fly?" the goblin asked, and suddenly stretched a very small, stubby pair of wings on its own back.
"A little," Elizabeth said, recalling that it had got from where it was created to her in the Unformed land, but not very gracefully and it had virtually fallen into her arms. The kitten was now squirming more violently. "Poor thing, I think it wants to get down, but I can't let it go. It will get lost and stepped on."
"Give it to me," the goblin said. "I will put it down in the booth."
"You will give it back?" Harry said, coming up from behind.
"If the little mistress wants it back, yes."
Elizabeth, who was in the act of handing the kitten across the counter, almost snatched it back, but it leapt from her hands to the goblin's naked shoulder where it stood, its claws unsheathed and digging into the goblin's skin. The goblin seemed totally unaware that the claws should hurt. It raised a hand to tickle the kitten under the chin, and the kitten responded with a rasping purr. A beatific smile widened the goblin's mouth until it seemed the creature's head would split in two.
"You want the mirror?" the goblin asked. "Look again. Look at your friends, at those who say they love you. Know the truth. I will trade you the mirror for the kitten."
Elizabeth's hand went out toward the mirror. She pulled it back. "That would not be fair," she said. "The kitten is a construct. I do not know how long it will . . . exist."
The kitten rubbed its furry head against the goblin's cheek. It closed its eyes and stroked the kitten with one finger, careful of the wings.
"For an hour or a day or however long it can live," the goblin said.
Elizabeth reached for the mirror again, but paused before she touched it. She examined the goblin's rather horrendous appearance, the green-gray leatherlike skin, the round, flat yellow eyes, the wide mouth where bottom teeth peeped over the upper lip and fangs hung down from the upper jaw, the cruel, curved claws on the hands. Her eyes slid to the mirror but she did not pick it up.
"I don't want the kitten to be frightened or hurt," she said. "Not the mirror nor anything else is worth that."
"Does it look frightened?" the goblin asked. "And I will swear to you that I will do nothing to hurt it and I will not let anyone else hurt it."
"Elizabeth," Denoriel said. "Take back the kitten. I will care for it. I told you so. That mirror is an evil thing. It will break your heart."
"It is not evil," the goblin said. "It is mindless justice without mercy, but not evil."
Denoriel snatched up the mirror, pulled Elizabeth to his side, and held the mirror so she could see his face. He expected it to be deformed into a mask of greed, lechery, and hate, but it was not. The mirror showed his face, but lined with pain and worry, the large eyes full of fear. Elizabeth uttered a sob and pulled the mirror down. Harry snatched it away and looked into it. His glance traveled from Denoriel to Elizabeth.
"What?" he asked. "What is wrong? It shows my face, that's all."
Elizabeth came around beside him to look and the shock drained out of her expression. Her Da looked younger, the lines of pain graved around his mouth and between his brows during his illness were gone. Love shone in his eyes and sweetness and goodness dwelt in the curve of the lips.
"Oh, Da," Elizabeth said and flung her arms around his neck. "Oh, Da. As long as you are here and I know you are safe and well, I will never be afraid." Then suddenly she sighed and uttered a frustrated laugh. To the goblin, she said, "I've been a fool. I would take the mirror, but I must return to the World Above and I cannot bring anything made with magic there."
The creature stroked the kitten gently. "The mirror was not made in this world. There are things here that come from—" he shrugged "—elsewhere. Metals not known Underhill or in the World Above, tools that do things on their own if a being activates them. The mirror is not Underhill magic. Whether it will work in the World Above, I do not know." It shrugged again. "As you do not know how long the kitten will exist."
"Don't, Elizabeth!" Denoriel pleaded. "It is better not to know some things."
"Mayhap," she said softly, picking the mirror up and tucking it into the pouch tied to her belt. But then she took Denoriel's hand, which she held very tight. "It showed me the truth about you, Denno, and about my Da. It might break my heart . . . but it might save my life, too."
"What's the matter?" Harry asked again.
"The mirror shows what's inside a person, Harry," Denoriel said, his voice reflecting his inner tension.
Harry shook his head, completely bewildered. "No, it doesn't. It just showed my face."
Denoriel began to laugh. "Yes, Harry. It just showed what you are—better than gold, better than anything in this world or the World Above."
"Does the mirror—"
Elizabeth had turned toward the inside of the booth, intending to ask if the mirror needed any special care, but the goblin was gone as was the kitten, and the counter in front of the booth was empty. Elizabeth's hand flew to her pouch, but the mirror was there, and when she looked into it, it showed the same hard face that she had seen before.
"I'm not sure I like that," Denoriel said. "It's as if he and the booth were set here just to attract Elizabeth. Let me see that mirror again and make sure there is no spell in it that will slowly affect her."
Somewhat reluctantly Elizabeth took the mirror from her pouch. Denoriel looked at it, felt it, touched it with his tongue, finally shook his head. Mechain took it from his hand and stared at it, obviously extending her senses. After a moment she also shook her head and handed the mirror to Elidir.
"It has no magic at all," Elidir said, sounding shocked. "No magic I can sense." He shuddered slightly. "How can it do what it does without magic?"
"There is power in it," Denoriel said with knitted brows, "I could feel it, but I cannot touch it. It is a different kind of power than what we use."
Elidir was also frowning. "And Elizabeth did not choose the mirror. She was looking at a strange thing with a black panel. The goblin pushed a button and pictures that moved formed on the panel. I did not like the pictures for a young girl so I showed her the mirror." He cocked his head. "Does it not seem to you, Denoriel, that the goblin was strange?"
"Its tenderness to the kitten was certainly unlike any goblin I know," Mechain said.
"That was not pretense?" Harry asked.
The three Sidhe all shook their heads. "One can feel the anger and evil in them," Denoriel said, then smiled. "You always react to them with loathing, Harry. How comes it that you did not pull Elizabeth away from the booth?"
"I don't know." Harry frowned. "I didn't feel the disgust I usually do."
"What does it matter?" Elizabeth asked. "The mirror is still here and it still works." She tucked her prize away again.
Mechain said, "No harm. But I will say this, that I have never felt from a goblin what I felt when it stroked that construct. If I dared to think that a goblin could love anything, I would say that it loved that kitten. Long may it live."
Denoriel still seemed uneasy, but there was no sense in standing by the empty booth. They continued on, looking at this and that. Elizabeth was transfixed by a huge roasted drumstick. She kept shaking her head and saying she could not imagine what kind of chicken could grow such a leg and that she surely did not want to meet it. Elidir laughed and bought the leg and when she bit into it her eyes widened with pleasure.
"It isn't chicken," she said, handing the leg to Harry.
He took a bite and agreed with her strongly enough to walk back and purchase a leg for each member of the party. They walked along, eating, stopping at still another booth to buy cloth to wipe their greasy hands and chins. Then they stopped in a tent where drinks were served. Elizabeth asked for ale, which she said would go best with the taste of the leg she was eating. Elidir and Mechain obtained mead. Harry and Denoriel drank wine.
As time passed, the worried frown smoothed from Denoriel's brow. They talked of the strange wares offered for sale. Elizabeth was particularly interested in the books, Harry in the weapons, most especially in those that used cold iron in some form, Mechain and Elidir in spells, some on single sheets, some in grimoires. Eventually, rested and drinks finished, they rose and walked on, but this time they did not get far.
Just ahead, the aisle they had been walking down debouched into an open area. It was not very large, perhaps as large as two great halls, but five other aisles also opened into it, and around the sides were not more booths of merchandise but platforms upon which various acts and entertainments were being displayed.
Elizabeth cried out with delight and darted ahead. The rest of her party followed, but not urgently. The acts had plenty of watchers, but the open space was not crowded and Elizabeth could be seen plainly. Harry caught up with her as she watched a set of tumblers, who were performing really phenomenal acts of levitation. He was surprised to see that she looked faintly disapproving.
"They cheat," Elizabeth said, when he asked what fault she could find with the act. "They are using magic to add to their balance and the height they can leap. I think without that help they would not be as good as some tumblers I have seen in the World Above."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You object to magic?"
Elizabeth laughed and tugged Harry toward the next stage. It held a magician who was creating waterfalls of sparkling color, which then ran away onto the audience's shoes, dying them.
"Ugh," Harry said, as his modest brown boots turned bright yellow and twinkled. "I wonder how long it will last?"
Farther along an ogre was displaying feats of strength, and Harry stopped suddenly to watch him. "Hmmm," he said, gesturing Mechain and Elidir closer. "You two should think about ways to bind a few such creatures to our service. Their strength might be useful in uncovering some of the hidden ways."
"Having an ogre take service with us would be easy." Elidir remarked. "Keeping it from falling into the power of that which whispers to us in those accursed lost hames and domains would be far more difficult. I would think twice—Harry, where is Elizabeth?"
Harry caught his breath and whirled around, but Elizabeth was in sight, about halfway across the open area, and Denoriel was not far behind her. All three breathed sighs of relief. Elidir opened his mouth to continue what he had been saying, and a sudden rush of laughing nymphs and fauns almost knocked him down and whirled Harry and Mechain around. They all pelted off toward the center of the area where they began to dance in little groups, laughing and singing.
"I don't like that!" Mechain said.
"Oh, they don't mean any harm." Harry laughed.
"No, Mechain's right," replied Elidir, frowning. "They are all sucking sweets."
"Is that harmful?" Harry asked.
"No, but it makes them very wild and excited. No one in a market will sell fauns and nymphs sweets because, meaning no harm, they can be destructive in their wildness."
"Elizabeth!" Harry exclaimed.
He could not see her among the whirling figures and Denoriel seemed to have disappeared too. Harry and the two older Sidhe started forward, but were buffeted aside—Harry actually being knocked to the ground—by a troop of goblins all crying, "Dance too! Dance too!" and capering around so wildly that the three companions were driven apart.
When she was first surrounded by the laughing, singing nymphs and fauns, Elizabeth laughed heartily. They tugged at her and pushed her slightly, but there was nothing at all threatening about the touches. None of the creatures was much larger than she, and they were all obviously being playful. Only there were so many of them, and they were just tall enough to block her view of her companions.
Elizabeth tried to turn around so that she could find Denoriel, who had been a few steps behind her, but suddenly the gay laughter of the nymphs and fauns changed to little shrieks. All of them stopped dancing and gathered closer together, then began rushing past her, dragging her along with them.
When the crowd had nearly passed her, Elizabeth again attempted to turn around, but her arms were seized. She cried out and pulled hard to get loose. The grip on her only tightened and she realized that it was not any nymph or faun that had seized her. She looked up and from side to side and cried out again.
Two mortal men—from the round ears and round-pupilled eyes—had her by her arms and were dragging her along in the midst of the rout of nymphs and fauns. They were both short but very strong. When Elizabeth tried to set her feet and not move, they simply lifted her up by the arms so that her feet did not touch the ground and carried her.
She shrieked for Denno and for her Da, but her voice was lost in the noise the nymphs and fauns and goblins were making. Then one of the men said, "Shut your mouth," and slapped her lightly. Terror and rage strangled the cries in Elizabeth's throat, and she saw with a shock that they had worked their way out of the group of nymphs and fauns and were rushing down one of the aisles.
"I need my hands free," one man said.
The other grunted agreement and lifted her up. Elizabeth tried to roll out of his grasp and cried out, but the man only tightened his grip on her thighs and pushed his arm under her neck so he could clamp one hand over her mouth.
Elizabeth was so frightened now that she felt weak and dizzy. There was no one to cry to for help. The aisle was not lined with booths but with shops where business was done within doors. A few beings looked at Elizabeth being carried along, but they did not seem to care. Beside that, the men were moving so swiftly that there was really no time for anyone (or anything) to interfere.
By the time Elizabeth's paralysis of fear was reduced enough for her to kick and squirm, the man who was not carrying her had turned into a narrow alley. Her captor followed, grunting as she almost wriggled out of his arms. Elizabeth worked her lips back from her teeth and bit hard. The man carrying her shrieked, and the one in front turned.
Elizabeth saw that the man who had led had an amulet in his hand. She screamed as loud as she could for Denno, for Da. The man advanced threateningly, hand raised either to strike or cast a spell, and Elizabeth suddenly remembered her protections and cast a shield around herself.
The man who was carrying her cried aloud in shock as his arms lost contact with her body and another desperate twist pulled her out of his grip. She fell free, but so heavily that she was stunned and could not spring to her feet and run. She stood at bay, panting with rage and fear, but she saw she could not have escaped anyway. One man was ahead and one behind. They closed in on her. Elizabeth screamed and screamed, but the shield muffled her voice and no one was in the alley. The few back doors to shops were closed.
The men tried to seize her, but their hands would not grip. The one with the amulet tried to strike her; she felt the pressure of the blow, which pushed her back into the man behind her. The blow did not hurt, but the man behind pushed her forward so fiercely that to save herself from falling she ran a few steps on the way they wanted her to go. He laughed and pushed her again.
Elizabeth tried to strike back, and she did hit the man who had been ahead of her but he only laughed and stepped aside and shoved her when he was behind to make her run forward again. The next push was so hard that she fell. Both men laughed. They scooped her up—-they had already worked out that they could not grip her but they could lift her shield and all—set her on her feet and pushed her again.
Now Elizabeth began to run ahead as fast as she could. Being shielded, knowing her abductors could not touch her reduced her panic so she could think. She realized she was going where they wanted her to go, but she hoped she would get there far enough ahead of them that she could see some way to escape.
The move took the men by surprise and she forged ahead. Both men shouted; she could hear them pounding close behind her, but even renewed fear could not lend her more speed.
And suddenly, ahead, there was a black wall.
She was trapped.
Elizabeth could only shriek with terror.