Rosemary and Rue

“I don’t think you have any other options,” Luna said.

“Right.” I raked my hair back with one hand. “Can . . . I hate to ask this, but can Manuel and Dare stay here until I get back?” The question was bigger than it seemed. I wasn’t just asking if they could wait for me; I was asking, if the Luidaeg didn’t let me come back, whether Luna would take care of them. Dare asked me to get them out. I couldn’t get them far, but I could get them to Shadowed Hills, and Sylvester wouldn’t let Devin take them if they didn’t want to go. They could be safe here, if they were willing to be.

Luna nodded. “Of course. They’re eating and harassing Quentin now; I’ll speak to them after you’ve gone.” She cocked her head to the side, listening to something. “It sounds like they’ve decided to teach him a new form of poker. Poor dear.”

“That’s my kids for you.” I grinned.

“Quite. Your kids, indeed. Do you know how to find the Luidaeg?”

I paused. “No. I never needed to.”

“I didn’t think so.” She snapped her fingers. A thorny face appeared in the bushes. “Hello, dear. Toby needs an escort.” The rose goblin rattled its thorns as it padded out to sit in front of her, turning vivid yellow eyes toward me.

“Hey, you,” I said, pleased. “It’s nice to see you again.” It opened its mouth and chirped, apparently pleased as well. It’s always nice to be remembered.

“It will lead you where you need to go,” Luna said, stepping back. “Trust it, but don’t let it out of your sight until you’ve reached your destination.”

“What if I do?”

“You’ll regret it.” She smiled, sadly. “Just come back, all right? We mourned you once. I’d rather not do it again.”

“It’s not on my list of goals either, Your Grace.” I straightened, getting my balance back, and looked to the rose goblin. “Any time.”

It sneezed and took off at a run, heading for the garden’s edge. There wasn’t time for pauses or good-byes: I launched myself after it, somehow finding the strength to run. Behind me, Luna called, “Trust the goblin!” just as it leaped and vanished through the stone of the wall.

Luna had never led me astray. She could be imperious and vague at the same time, but she’d never lied to me, and so I kept running, jumping after it without pause.

The wall parted like mist, opening on a long tunnel. The goblin was a slash of moving green in the dark ten feet ahead. I kept my eyes on its back, ignoring the stitch in my side as I pounded after it. It leaped for another wall, vanishing again, and I followed, landing on a swaying theater catwalk. The goblin paused, looking back over its shoulder to see that I was still behind it. Then it stepped to the edge of the catwalk, and launched itself into the darkness.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I jumped after it, managing not to stumble when my feet hit solid ground. The goblin kept running, and I followed, into the dark.





TWENTY-THREE



THE LAST LEAP LEFT US STANDING at the mouth of an alley in a part of town I’d never seen before. Seagulls shrieked overhead, and the air stank of garbage mixed with the windblown smell of rotten fish and motor oil. We had to be near the docks, and not in one of the nicer areas. It was water-hag territory . . . and whatever else the Luidaeg may be, she’s definitely a water-hag.

Every child in Faerie grows up knowing about the Luidaeg. She is more of a bogey than Oleander, whose stories are only a few centuries old; the Luidaeg has been one of Faerie’s childhood terrors since Faerie began. My conviction that this was a bad idea just kept growing.