Eire of Hostility

  *********

  With the orange glow from the alabaster table still receding, Enochia pulled the thick black cloth over it. She had just concluded an attempt to see the truer meaning of the door visions she'd been having. There was a large, roughly-hewn set of double doors; weapons flew out when they swung open. A hostile force was coming from the Lore, and fixed on Ballaghadaere.

  Enochia knew that if the Circle had called a war party, then she would have been given a message demanding her presence as witness, or defendant, before those warriors might need to be sent. The whole affair felt as if someone was attempting to gather forces for a cleansing, something not seen on this scale in decades.

  She had learned that the other door, plain white with mist beyond it, was directly related to Cora McCarthy's youngest child, Jane. Along with the vague sense of danger that that girl was in were glimpses of a fae with dark hair.

  The events precluding that door were unclear, but only two assumptions could be made: either Jane was taken or lured to the precipice of the Lore, or she somehow found her way there by her own power. If it was the former, then the mortals of the village would be in turmoil at her disappearance, and glamour would diminish greatly. If it was the latter, that Jane somehow accessed a fae-bridge, then she would soon become a highly sought-after Lore commodity. The young woman would become prey and property of masters beyond her understanding.

  Both of the door visions were related, but Enochia saw no common denominators between the two other than the village itself. It was a place to start, but still gave her no answers. It seemed illogical for warriors to assemble for a single commodity such as Jane might be; no fae would willingly share a valued possession.

  Perhaps the girl had some extreme measure of defense that had been found by a fae. In that instance, a war party could be sent by that unseen hand to weaken her enough to let the orchestrator of the plot to easily claim the prize. The concept was merely supposition; there was too much Lore activity and an excessive list of variables to see any possible outcomes with clarity. The oracle needed more information.

  "Harkin," Enochia called out into her dim and dusty haven, "come join me for a moment, please."

  The sallow, mottle-winged harpy came into the doorway across from her, an old text in his claws. At her insistence, Harkin's long gray hair was kept straight and untangled, and his crimson attire free of stains. While still a daunting figure for a low-caste, he also now outwardly reflected the uncommon intellect of his mostly-female race. "You called for me, Mistress?"

  "Yes, come in." Enochia gestured to the book he held. "What is that you have?"

  Her harpy servant took a few steps into the large, shadowy room. "I found this digest out amongst your piles of forgotten human items. I hope you don't mind that I took interest. I remember its placement and can return it if you found my initiative inappropriate."

  Enochia spent a moment in thought, and then replied, "In this situation, I do not take exception. What is it, exactly?"

  Harkin glanced at the book and then back to her. "A collection of works, Mistress; the author is named Yeats." He frowned before stating, "There are some insightful lines, but with others this human's mind seems to run askew."

  Folding her four-fingered hands in her lap, Enochia said, "Ah, that one. Read for me a short line, Harkin, before I send you on a mission."

  Opening the book to the page that one of his claws had held as a marker, Harkin read aloud the last entry he'd come to before he was called for. He cited a short line with a clear voice. "'. . . do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking'." Harkin then looked back up to see her reaction.

  Enochia offered a simple smile for the choice of quotes. "Perhaps it is advice we should follow under the right circumstances." She smoothly resettled into her Victorian chair. "For now, my good harpy, I believe the iron is already warming. I need you to venture back to the Lore and gather information, particularly those subjects that might intrigue warriors."

  "Of course, Mistress; I shall leave immediately."

  Before her servant could exit the room, she called to him once more. He turned and waited expectantly. "I applaud your choice of quotes. It has given me drive for my own initiatives."