Gossamyr Part 28

From the corner of her eye she spied Avenall. Why did he not flee?

"Father, I-"

"Silence!" Shinn moved his gaze from Avenall to her, down her face and over her robe, which she clutched between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Could he know? But fr the telling color of Avenall's wings he must know! "This man I have forbidden from seeing you stands in my home?"

"Forgive me, lord-"

"You have begged my forgiveness once, Avenall...of Rougethorn. I thought to respect your humility, but I see it was fr naught. You lied to me when you promised you would not continue to court Gossamyr.You have debauched my daughter?"

"No, I merely-"

"We were but kissing, Father," Gossamyr offered hastily. "Nothing more."

Shinn tilted his head. Hard violet arrows shot through Gossamyr's heart. Betrayal, they spoke. You have betrayed me. His disappointment hung in the air like a choking cloud.

"I..." Avenall managed. "I will leave."

"You will" Shinn spoke,"be punished for this betrayal. You swore you would not seek my daughter's favor."

Gossamyr cringed at the command. Rarely did Shinn raise his voice. Please, do not hurt him, she thought. Do not wound him.

"For betraying my trust," Shinn continued in the same abrasive command, "banishment!"

"No!"

Gossamyr spun to Avenall. The Rougethorn fee stiffened, caught within Shinn's mighty glamour. He cried out as the red pinp.r.i.c.ks of banishment bore through his flesh, circling his left eye and for ever marking him.

And with a sweep of Shinn's hand, Avenall was carried away, over the bal.u.s.trade, up into the crystal sky, and finally he twinclianed in a minute shimmer.

Aghast and completely stunned at her father's quick and cruel punishment, Gossamyr stood there shaking, staring off into the sky. Her jaw hung open. She could not comprehend. Avenall had been here, in her arms, kissing her, loving her-now he was gone.

"No," she murmured, and swung to beat her fists against Shinn's chest. "Bring him back! You cannot send him off for loving me!"

"Love?" Shinn spat out a vicious snort of laughter. "Go to your room, daughter. Be gone from me now."

He actually shoved her from his body. And Gossamyr, lost in the devastating rush of the moment, fled from her mother's study.

But oh... it did ache there... right in the center of her chest where Ulrich had touched her bruised heart. Gossamyr clutched at the gown, her fingers filling with the soft brown fur. Seeing Avenall in the market square had shaken off the shroud of indifference she had built up. Emotions were mortal. Unnecessary.

Truly?

You fear loss of family.

She was all alone. So far from Shinn. To Be seemed the greatest challenge.

That Shinn had banished a Rougethorn... The only reason her father had the ability to banish one not of his tribe was because Avenall had lived in Glamoursiege since he was very young. He had lived in Glamoursiege longer-and so he was considered a citizen.

Avenall. The one man who had loved her had looked through her as if she did not exist. The Red clouded Avenall's vision.

Yet Ulrich saw her clearly.

He touches a part of you that does feel, the mortal part that knows emotion before your fee instincts ever could.

It would be simpler if she were completely fee.

You fit into the air here. No one looks upon you with a disdainful sneer.

Sliding down against the tree trunk, Gossamyr squatted and caught her forehead in her palms. Tears flowed through her fingers and dropped to the ground, wetting the soil.

Ulrich pushed away from the small triangle smoke hatch where he watched Gossamyr struggle with tears. He was halfway to the stairs, determined to rush outside and comfort her, when he stopped, and returned to the window.

"Let her cry," he whispered. "Let her feel the pain. It is good. You are learning, Gossamyr of Faery. Disenchanted? It is bone."

EIGHTEEN.

As they gained the bell tower of St. Genevieve, Ulrich sprawled across the stone floor to rest. He had chosen the cathedral for, set upon a hill, it offered one of the highest lookouts in Paris. Excellent view of the entire city.

Having sprinted up the last dozen or so steps of the tower, Gossamyr closed her eyes and tilted back her head. The air up here was even lighter than on the ground. Sounds of humanity, the rush of horses and carts and carriages wobbling across cobbles, segued into but a hum. A nest of hawfinch chirped nearby, tucked away beneath the chin of a sooty gargoyle.

And there on the snout-nose of the gargoyle perched the fetch, its wings folded upward, obliquing in the midday sun. Always there, her father. I have not lost family.

She wondered now how Rhiana felt when she had thought of her missing father. To wake one morning and never again know the comfort of his presence? And, if she was ill thought by her mother, as Ulrich had explained, it must have been a lonely existence.

No, not gone, my family. Who then was she to claim such pain?

But it did pain. For she was alone, and the uncertainty of her return to Faery would not rest.

She must defeat the succubus and-then what? Would she Pa.s.sage back to Faery? Where to find a Pa.s.sage? Surely Shinn could merit a trip to Paris to retrieve her.

What if he were injured, or worse, the staunch Faery lord was killed battling the revenants? She would not know. Mince may not know where to find her. Had Shinn told Desideriel of her task? Certainly, the marshal at arms would never come for her.

Each day spent in this mortal realm challenged her beliefs. Where did she belong? And why had her conscious so suddenly altered?

"I hadn't realized there were so many steps," Ulrich huffed. He tipped over the saddlebag he'd carried up the spiraling stairs. "Must be hundreds."

"You are winded," Gossamyr said as she leaned over the stone bal.u.s.trade and cast her eyes across the city.

"Not at all! Just-" puff, puff "-breathing in this fresh clear air. A man's got to do such, you know, for to tread the city, all close and dirty, tends to make one's humours sluggish."

Yet Gossamyr fancied she could leap from this tower and soar, so light and perfectly fit into this air stood she. Had she wings, flight would not require thought. One leap and she would soar over the kingdom, come hunting hawk or mighty dragon, naught would bring her down.

Dissected by the Seine, the city spread wide and vast. Narrow streets barely st.i.tched demarcations between the dwellings. Stuffed tight within the bounds of the fortressed city walls thousands upon thousands of buildings fought story by story to reach into the sky for a breath of the light air. Great spires and towers and banners proclaiming royalty, religion and wares populated the sky. Sun glinted on red tile roofs and glittered upon the river. Great conglomerations of buildings hugged the cathedral, looking more to support than actually surround. Packed tighter than a honeycomb, the city, and as bustling and productive as a queen's hive. People were but gnats in colorful bits of fabric. Shopkeepers clopped about on red wood sabots. Archers bore a deer hung by its quarters from poles through the spiderweb of streets. Laundry flagged the stretches of cord from window to rooftop. And everywhere children scampered and dodged and shouted.

Surprising how a different perspective designed the city most beautifully. The intricacy of it all marveled. "Be that the royal palace there at the end of the island, where your king lives?"

Ulrich tilted his head, honing his directions. "I believe so. I don't much answer to King Henry myself. He is English."

"You mean the drunkards and-"

"And tails, my lady, indeed! One country isn't enough for him; he's got his grubby mitts on Paris, as well. Pray either the vulgar Burgundians or bloodthirsty Armagnacs take this city soon."

"You don't care which of the two?"

"So long as they are French, no. Though I do favor the Armagnacs, simply because our unseated French king sides with them. The village I am from is under his reign. He's a good king, so far as kings go."

Gossamyr propped her elbows on the bal.u.s.trade behind her and eyed Ulrich's sorting about in the saddlebag. "Glamoursiege has been a place of peace since I can recall. Unlike the Netherdreds, we value peace." "Sounds like your Netherdreds would get along well with the Armagnacs. That is the tribe the Red Lady hails from?"

"So far as I know."

"What was the tribal name of your Avenall?"

"Rougethorn." She p.r.o.nounced it as Avenall had. Rogue-Torn. A cad's dashing mannerism.

She looked down into Ulrich's expectant gaze. Stirring within the pale whites of his eyes swam a glitter not unlike mirth. It beguiled Gossamyr. Change had crept between them. In addition to being fascinated by her surroundings, Gossamyr found Ulrich held interest. A man alone and on a heartfelt quest. Of the tribe Mortal. An intriguing race.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?"

She followed Ulrich's gaping stare to the gargoyle's chipped nose. "The fetch. You've seen it before. I've explained-"

"Yes, but you said it was a dragonfly." He stood. The sudden movement caused the fetch to flutter its wings, so Ulrich stilled. He embraced the air, pointing, but uncertain whether to let out a cry or swallow back a shout.

"It be a dragon!"

"The size of a fly," Gossamyr said with a shrug. "What troubles you?"

"You! Faery! Tiny dragons and man-eating frogs?" He drilled his fingers into his hair and stretched out the curly strands. "What next? A hornless unicorn?"

"If you are vigilant."

A sigh preceded his accepting nod. "Indeed." He propped his elbows on the bal.u.s.trade aside Gossamyr. A glance to the fetch- both summed up the other. "What wonders I have known and wish to ever erase from my eyes."

"The fetch is not so remarkable."

"So say you, lady from Faery."

She stretched her hand before her to encompa.s.s the city. "Here be true wonders. So many eating, sleeping, dancing, making love."

"Fighting, killing, maiming."

"Skipping, birthing and growing."

"Dying."

"Ulrich."

"I know. You see the wonders of a new world. I have closed mine eyes to all but strife."

"Anon," she offered. "Your heart will change if you see her again?"

He swung a bemused look at her. "Yes, anon."

Stretching out her arms, Gossamyr tilted her body forward. Standing on tiptoe, she moved with the sway of the air. Flight, she had never before known the sensation.

"Faery Not!"

Groping for the bal.u.s.trade, Gossamyr teetered forward as Ulrich caught her ankle, catching her from a sure fall.

"What in all of Hades? Think you to fly?"

"Of course not." She smirked and made show of clutching the bal.u.s.trade for support. No, and yes. Flight? What a dream.

Sighing, she knelt beside Ulrich to watch him sort through the various items within. The wrapped alicorn remained tucked inside the leather bag. After defeat of the Red Lady, there was the matter of returning the sacred object. Could she convince Ulrich to hand over the alicorn to her? Had she any right? It was his find. Only he held the power to claim his wish. And what a wish it was. Faery owed Ulrich for his stolen years. Haps 'twas intended the alicorn fell to Ulrich's hands as repayment for his suffering?

A mortar and pestle rolled to tilt against Gossamyr's toe. Tucking aside her skirt, she lifted the heavy polished bowl and smoothed her fingers inside the convex stone. "No wonder you're exhausted. This weighs half a stone!"

"Only now is the woman aware of the suffering I endure for her." He gestured she hand him the mortar.

"You suffer naught for me. It is for your distressed damsel whom you quest, and that is the proof of it."

"Indeed." He emptied a cloth bag of flaked herb into the bowl, but paused. "Do you think it wrong?"

"Most certainly. You cannot bring back the dead."

"And yet, you implied earlier it could be done."

"Be it possible to bring back the dead does not make it right."

Ulrich nodded. "And you can kill a soul sucker in the name of Faery, but that doesn't make it right, either."

"I will kill her. And it will be right. She threatens Faery, Ulrich!"

"And how do you plan to stop her murderous rampage? That stick of yours tends to only knock a man out for a time. She'll bounce right back up and suck out another soul from your Disenchanted brethren."

Leaning back on her palms, Gossamyr toed the base of the stone bal.u.s.ter. "I hadn't considered the method I would use to stop her."

"Truly, my lady, you continue to astound me. What was your father thinking to loose his spoil-"

"Don't say it. You do not know the truth of me."

"True, I do not. Yet, do you know the truth of yourself?"