Chimes at Midnight

“Let me see . . .” I turned a few more pages before I found a passage I wanted. “This says it was given to Eira Rosynhwyr for safekeeping. Why do I know that horribly unpronounceable name?”


“It’s Eira Rosynhwyr, and if you’ve heard of her, it’s because she’s the Daoine Sidhe Firstborn,” said Mags, emerging from the stacks with empty hands. My heart sank, and only rose slightly as Quentin came into view behind her, carrying several books.

“Okay,” I said. “Is she one of the ones who’s still around? Do we have a directory or something?”

“No, there’s no, ah, ‘directory’ to the Firstborn, and as for Eira, I don’t know. Maybe she’s alive, maybe she’s not. There are no records of her death, and even if there were, it might not have stuck. Her particular parlor trick had to do with playing Snow White.”

“She hung out with Dwarves?” I guessed.

Mags smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “She never stayed dead for long. Firstborn are notoriously hard to kill, and Eira was always the hardest of them all.”

“Okay.” I looked back at the book. “So she was the Daoine Sidhe First, and she left the hope chest with her descendants. Maybe we can find the others by figuring out which races they parented, and then going door to door.”

“I’m not sure you’re physically prepared for a search . . .” Tybalt began.

I cut him off with a tight shake of my head. “Don’t say it. Please. I am begging you. Don’t say it.” My stomach growled. I pressed my hand against it, trying to silence the need, and cast a pleading look at Mags. “While I’m begging . . . please tell me you have a suggestion about what might make this a little easier to bear. Just long enough for me to find a hope chest.”

“We could put you into an enchanted sleep . . .” she began.

“No,” I said, before she could continue. “Elf-shot kills humans just as dead as goblin fruit does, and anything else would take too long to put together. I can’t just sleep this off.”

“I don’t have any other suggestions. What I do have is books.” She gestured at Quentin and the books that he was holding. “This is the sum total of what we know about goblin fruit. I’ll begin looking for any sort of treatment known to work for humans. If anything has ever been written down, I’ll find it.”

“I’ll help,” said Quentin. I blinked at him, and he looked at me, finally letting all his anguish and terror show. “I shouldn’t have walked ahead. I should have been there. This is something I can do to help you. Please. Let me help.”

“Of course.” I held up the book on hope chests. “Go through this, too. See if there’s anything that might help you figure out where these damn things are now. So far, I’ve got nothing. The index tells me who had the chests when they were divided, but it uses names, not titles, and the only Firstborn I’m on a first-name basis with is my Mom.” And Acacia, but she was beyond my reach at the moment. If the Shadow Roads were hard, the roads it would take to get to the skerry where she lived would probably kill me.

“Okay,” he said. Then he smiled, a little awkwardly, and said, “You’re not really on a first-name basis with her, are you? You call her ‘Mom.’”

“See, now you really understand why I need you going through this book. We’re going to go see the Luidaeg. I may not be on a first-name basis with her, but I don’t think that matters. Maybe she knew this Antigone lady, and can point us in the direction of another hope chest. But first . . .” I shook my head. “We’re going to go to Walther first.”