The Steward

  Draining the water was the wrong approach. My barrier nearly failed as I rushed back over to the side and changed the stone back. The water stopped coming out, but I saw a six-inch-long fish flopping on the ground. I fought the urge to slip it back into the fountain. Even though I didn’t want it to die, trying to save it would disturb the surface. My mind wandered, briefly, back to the first time I saw the basin.

  It was frozen, and the fish must have been alive under the icy surface all winter. The solution hit me. Chalen laughed. I knew he could hear my heart beating out of my chest, and he could read the images in my mind. The effort it took to keep my barrier up weakened my mental screen, and he took advantage by catching glimpses.

  So be it. I pictured the frozen surface last winter and remembered the leaves held motionless. I watched him as his smile disappeared. He was afraid, and now I knew he didn’t want me to be a Maebown. Fear—there has to be much more to this situation than meets the eye, and it is something only a Maebown can prevent.

  Time was running out and I had to control the water, I thought, not drain it. I smiled at Chalen and the emotion drained from his wretched face. My heart sped up again when I noticed the water in the saucer had spread and filled the bottom. I only had moments. Concentrating on the water, I pictured it frozen in my mind. Nothing happened.

  I thought of the ice in my diet coke at the Garden Bisto, and I concentrated on the snow that fell after we moved here. I remembered how cold my hands were when I touched it—the burning numbness was still fresh enough that I could almost feel it. I pictured the icicles that hung from the eaves of the cottage and ran every image of frozen water I could think of though my mind and opened my eyes again. Nothing.

  At the Earth trial, I was touching the stone when it moved. Chalen leaned over the surface, no longer focusing on me. He stared intently at the water, trying to sense any change. When I looked back at the saucer, the little pool was nearly halfway up the sides, and the water surface around the edge was at the very rim. Seconds, I thought. I reached down to the water, slowly, holding my breath again. My loose curls fell down over my face and hung around my head, just a foot above the surface. I stretched down a little further until I felt the cool surface on my finger tips. A small ripple spread out, closing on the saucer. I concentrated on the image again, strugging to keep from exhaling—my lungs burned. Nothing happened.

  The tiny ripple kissed the edge of the saucer and I heard Chalen take a quick breath. At first the saucer bobbed, just slightly, and then one tiny rivulet of water leaked over the side. I watched it all happen as if in slow motion—the saucer filled and sank, fluttering back and forth until it settled on the bottom in a tiny cloud of algae.

  Finally exhaling, my finger still in the water, I was stunned. Chalen laughed—belly laughed, really.

  “I knew it! I knew you weren’t a Maebown!” he rejoiced, settling back on his heels.

  I looked back down at the saucer and shook my head. Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t stop them from falling into the pool.

  “It will take you a long time to refill it that way. Maybe you should concentrate on Gavin—that will speed things up a bit.”

  “I hate you,” I said under my breath.

  “Hate away, Maggie O’Shea. It really doesn’t matter though, not being Water inclined I mean. It’s not like you would have been a Maebown.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They haven’t told you, have they? Well, allow me. To be a Maebown, you have to balance all four elements. Even though you eventually figured out what to do here, I don’t think you’re smart enough to figure out the fifth trial—no offense,” he said, a patronizing smile spreading across his thin gray lips.

  “Fifth trial?”

  “Oh, they have kept you in the dark, haven’t they? Yes, if you had passed this test, preposterous as that now sounds, you would have to take a final test.”

  “What is it?”

  “That doesn’t matter now, does it?” He laughed again. He was nearly gleeful, and relieved.

  “You were afraid I would be a Maebown, weren’t you?”

  “Afraid? Hardly!” he screeched. “But it would have been an inconvenience.”

  He was so condescending, but I looked past that—he was hiding something. He was so arrogant, it seemed he wanted to tell me. I began to drop my barrier and he noticed.

  “Not yet,” he said pleasantly. It was eerie.

  “Why, I failed the test. I’d like to leave.”

  “You’ll be doing that soon enough, I think. But this is our first chance to talk, and I’ve wanted to talk to you for months. So, if you would, Steward, leave that thing in place. I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say, and I’d prefer it if we didn’t have anyone listening in.

  I was right. “Okay.”

  He walked around me, glowering, and picked up the fish. It had stopped flopping and only moved its mouth and gills, strugging in the dry air.

  “Do you know what the purpose of this trial was?”

  “Beyond the obvious, no,” I said

  “Typical. It was right there ... in front of you.” He laughed, full of himself. “Think of the surface of the water as the barrier between our two realms. In your childlike attempt to drain the pool, you created havoc below the surface. Sure, it appeared calm on the surface, but for the whirlpool. Beneath though, you affected everything. Do you understand now.”

  “Yes, I think so. What we do here affects you, there.”

  “For every action on one side of the barrier, there are consequences on the other.”

  “So what is your solution, to freeze the barrier?”

  A wicked smile grew across his face.

  “No. That solution would work, yes, but we are not going to give up physical existence for bipedal water-filled bags of skin with eighty-year shelf lives. The Seelie Council believes that we can co-exist, but humans keep rippling the surface. The Unseelie solution, if we had our way...” he trailed off, as he looked at his hand.

  He squeezed the fish, digging his sharp nails into its flesh, and ripped it apart. I turned away and drew in a sharp breath.

  “Oh sorry,” he said as he tossed the carcus to the ground and licked his fingers.

  I fought my gag reflex, and did my best to remain calm.

  “So what’s your point—that you hate me and want to see me dead?”

  “I did not hate the fish.”

  “But you do hate me, that’s why you’ve done all of this to me.”

  “You? You think this is about you? And they say we’re narcissistic. You wandered around the Weald for weeks loathing everything about this place—up here when we met, it was no different. But child, this has never been about you. You are just an obstacle, and not as serious an obstacle as some had imagined.”

  When he said it I fought to keep calm. There, in his words, he spoke for more than one. It suddenly made more sense. My mind wanted to consider the meaning, to rush through the options, but I made myself focus on Chalen. I had more to learn.

  “I can’t believe you would spend months trying to get me alone just to kill a fish and tell me things about the Unseelie I already know.”

  “No, I did not. I wanted to tell you just one other thing—do not interfere. You read me? I do not want you or your family on the Weald. It is time for new blood, I think. I have given you plenty of hints that I want you gone, but you are obviously too thick to figure it out on your own. So again, to be perfectly clear—if asked, you will not accept the stewardship. Do you understand me?” He was menacing again, but still not compelling fear. He didn’t need to—I was already terrified.

  I stared at him without moving, refusing to let him bully me.

  He studied my face. “Oh, you poor mindless creature,” he said, feigning sympathy, “I am not asking you to make the decision at this moment—the Seelie Council has its arcane protocols. You will accept or reject their offer on the morning of the New Year. I will let you consider the consequences of
those choices until the eve of the New Year. You will find me, and you will give me your answer.”

  “Why do you want my family removed so badly?”

  “You are correct, of course. I loath you. I do not need any reason other than that, do I?”

  “May I leave now?”

  “By all means, leave.”

  Before I lowered the barrier and let the rest of the world back in, I wanted to see if he was as arrogant as he appeared.

  “I have one more question for you. Were you responsible for what happened to Kyle and to my dad’s parents?’

  A thin smile appeared on his lips. “Ancient history, for a creature like yourself, but the answer is yes. And mind you, for future reference, they all died like Irish rats.”

  When I lowered the barrier, the wind rushed in and blew leaves all around us. There were Fae everywhere. Billy crossed the wall toward us, and I sensed only one other Fae drawing close—it was coming from the opposite direction. I saw her inside the wall, walking past the well that I hadn’t noticed before. She appeared to be about my age, her porcelain skin perfect with just a hint of pink in her cheeks. The most striking features, I thought, were her coal black eyes framed by thick, curly gold hair. “Sara!”

  TWENTY-NINE

  CONFESSIONS

  Sara smiled and crossed the distance between us, blowing leaves in Chalen’s face as she did.

  He scowled at her. “Buzzard...”

  “Barnacle.”

  She wrapped her arms around me and I felt a deep sense of relief.

  “Oh Pity,” Chalon said, “I enjoyed the Weald so much more when you were roosting in Europe. But I am delighted you blew back in time to witness her epic failure.” Chalen laughed and walked back toward the garden wall.

  “I’m sorry, Sara. I tried.”

  “It’s okay, Maggie. Maebowns are extremely rare. You are still inclined to three elements, the better elements.” She looked back over to Chalen. He coughed.

  “I thought I was going...” I started

  “Shhhh. Not here. Let’s leave.”

  “Yes, be on your way, Maebown.” Chalen laughed again. He was joined in laughter by other Fae, Unseelie I presumed. Isn’t that appropriate? They hadn’t said a word at the completion of any of my other trials, but they’re here to laugh when I fail. I stared at the saucer in the bottom of the fountain, then at the remains of the dead fish, and … allowed … the feeling of hopelessness to wash over me.

  Billy stopped beside us. “Don’t concern yourself with the result,” he said. “It would have been extraordinary if you’d been Water inclined as well. But this in no way diminishes your other accomplishments. I agree with Sara, though, it does no good to linger in this place.” He looked around nervously.

  We climbed into the rickety Range Rover, with me taking the back seat, and Billy drove us along the curvy mountain road toward town. He and Sara were quiet for several minutes and I guessed they were conversing. She occasionally looked back at me and smiled. I felt dejected and allowed my emotions to stay exactly the same, but I wanted to know what they thought.

  “Sara?”

  “Yes?” Her harp-like voice sounded younger than it did before, but it was still hers.

  “Do you still go by that name?”

  “Yes, I will use the name,” she answered in English laced with a perfect Irish accent, “and as far as anyone is concerned, I’ve just moved here from Dublin to stay with my Aunt and Uncle Byrne. I was named after my exquisite, but eccentric—and ellusive—Aunt Sara.”

  I laughed, and I was a little jealous—I’d always wanted an Irish accent.

  “Maggie,” she said without the accent, “I don’t want you to worry about this. I can tell the trial is bothering you.”

  I smiled. “I just thought I would pass it. I always thought Water was my strongest suit.”

  “I did to. Until the trial, I had not considered the possibility that you wouldn’t be Water inclined.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Maggie,” Billy said, “I’m reading your emotions again. You really need to concentrate. I know you were nervous today, but your emotions were everywhere.”

  With the Range Rover speeding down the highway toward town, I looked down at my lap and pushed the expression off my face.

  “Billy,” I said, “could you hear anything that Chalen and I said?”

  “No, I could see you, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I could see the images you let slip through your mind. We’re going to talk about that, but I think we need to be further away.”

  “Okay,” I said meekly, once again focusing on making sure my face remained emotionless. “That’s odd, though. When I circled myself with the barrier, I couldn’t sense any of you.”

  “We will work on that, too—impressive barrier, nonetheless. Your Aunt could do that, you know.”

  While I didn’t recognize it at the time, I remembered everything going quiet in her room the night of the Air trial, and her warnings about the Unseelie. Aunt May died before she could teach me.

  We drove down Main Street and north out of town. After cruising through the fall colors a few miles, he turned left and we headed down a narrow asphalt road that cut back and forth through the orange, red and yellow hills. At a slow turn, I saw a single-lane suspension bridge. Painted blue and yellow, it reminded me of a miniature version of the Golden Gate Bridge. The smallest town I’d ever seen lay on the other side.

  “Where are we?”

  “Beaver, Arkansas—namesake of the lake—we’ll be alone here,” Billy said.

  We crossed the bridge and parked in a lot situated in the middle of the tiny collection of houses and storefronts. It was just one more picturesque scene, I thought. I spread my mind out, trying to sense other Fae. There were none.

  Before they started asking questions, I did.

  “Sara, what will the Council think about me failing the Water trial?”

  “You mean, did they believe you were the next Maebown? Some, like I, thought you were. Others were skeptical. If anything, Maggie, I think the Council will relax. Many agreed with Gavin—a Maebown is not necessarily a good sign.”

  “Do you believe that? That a Maebown is a bad thing?”

  “Not like that, no. I believe the appearance of a Maebown is a reaction to bad things. That’s an important distiction. A Maebown does not cause bad things.”

  “Why? You’ve never told me the truth about the other Maebowns.”

  Sara turned to me. “Maggie, there is a lot we haven’t told you, and now is as good a time as any, I suppose. A Maebown only appears when there are two Aetherfae.”

  “Two?” I saw stars for a moment as my mind struggled with the meaning. “I thought Ozara was the only one?”

  “She has been the only one since the last conflict, but she is not the only Aetherfae that has existed. Two thousand years ago, Dagda emerged. He sided with the the Unseelie and brought war. He was more powerful than Ozara, and they battled one another. At the very moment it looked like he would prevail, the Maebown, Áedén, destroyed him.”

  “So there is another Aetherfae now?”

  Billy reached back and put his hand on mine. “No Maggie, it doesn’t appear so. I think the Council will be relieved.”

  Despite his reassurance, doubt gripped my stomach, twisting it into knots. I decided to press him on that issue in a minute. First, though, I needed to ask a few more questions. “Sara, we haven’t had a chance to talk since it happened. Do you think the Council made the right decision with Gavin?”

  “Maggie, the Council made the only decision it could under the circumstances.”

  “Last week, in English class, I learned the word subterfuge.”

  Billy laughed out loud.

  Sara smiled. “Sorry. I don’t want to alarm you, or add to the dread I can still sense from you, but I haven’t trusted the decisions of the Council for a hundred years—most of them cower to Ozara’s wishes. I would say more, but I’m afraid it would be dangerous.
”

  “Dangerous to me?”

  “Yes, dangerous to all of us.”

  I seized the opportunity. “So, are we all agreed that the Council cannot be trusted?”

  They both turned and looked at me as if I’d sprouted an extra head.

  “Are we agreed?”

  “Yes,” they both said in unison, studying me.

  “If I can’t trust them, then I will just have to trust the two of you and no one else, except maybe Danny.”

  “He is trustworthy,” Billy agreed.

  “And Gavin,” I said smiling.

  “Yes, absolutely,” Sara said with a slight smile on her face.

  “Both of you will keep what I’m about to tell you between us?”

  “Of course,” Billy said.

  “Yes, Maggie, what is it?” Sara said, turning her head slightly toward me.

  Stifling the rage I felt when I remembered him saying it, I told them, “Chalen admitted that he killed Aunt May’s son, Kyle, and my grandparents, too.”

  Sara’s eyes closed and she whispered, “I knew it.”

  I’d guessed correctly that she suspected as much but was afraid to admit it.

  “Maggie, did he just come right out and tell you?” she asked, agitation in her voice.

  “No. I asked him.”

  “But how did you know to ask?” Her eyebrows pressed down in the center.

  “I suspected it, and there was something he mentioned during the trial. He said that most of what happened at the Weald wasn’t directed toward me. My father was supposed to be the Steward, right? During the trial, Chalen said he wasn’t focusing the attacks on me. That’s when I knew who he meant. Dad. The more I thought about it, the more it all made sense.”

  “I suppose.” Billy frowned.