The Winter Long

When the air finally cleared, I wiped my nose and said, “If your records are anything like mine, I’ve got a partial reason for that: like you said, the census doesn’t count changelings, and we’re not that transitory. Devin isn’t in here, and he was in the Kingdom before the 1906 earthquake. I’m not in here either, but Mom is, and she’s listed as ‘bride of Simon, mother of August.’” I shook my head, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice as I said, “All these thrice-cursed years of people withholding information from me, and all I had to do was drop by my local Library and ask for the phone book.”


“Ah, but first you had to find someone with a Library card and earn their trust enough that they would share its graces with you,” said Tybalt, as his pacing brought him close enough for conversation. “Sadly, ‘all those years’ were vital parts of your unintentional master plan. The Court of Cats will not be listed on those rolls either. We do not take part in the petty schemes of the Divided Courts.”

“Like the census?” I shot him a venomous look. “Did I tell you recently just how good you are at not being even remotely helpful?”

“Ah, but you see, I am exceedingly helpful.” He leaned in to kiss the top of my head. “As long as your aggravation has a safe target, you’ll keep focusing on your work, and not become too frustrated to continue. I am the most helpful thing in this room.”

“I resent that,” said Quentin.

“Many men have resented me in their days, young prince,” said Tybalt. “Be proud of the legacy you have joined.”

“Tybalt, don’t taunt my squire,” I said. “Quentin, don’t kill my boyfriend. Both of you, shut up and let me work.”

Tybalt laughed and resumed pacing. I shook my head, sinking deeper into the couch. At least one of us was happy.

I’d managed to make it through the census of Golden Gate and halfway through the census of Dreamer’s Glass before Quentin spoke again. “There are too many names,” he said. “We’re going to be here forever, and since we don’t know for sure who Simon and the Luidaeg both know, we can’t really eliminate anyone.”

“And since there are no changelings on the list, we’re missing a whole swath of potential candidates.” I leaned forward, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We don’t have time for this. We’re not going to be able to figure it out this way, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Do you really think it could be a changeling?” asked Mags. I looked up to find her standing at the edge of the workspace, another pile of books in her arms. “I mean . . . I’m not trying to sound dismissive or anything, but most changelings couldn’t power a geas as strong as the one you described. It would burn their hearts to ashes in their chests.”

“Chelsea Ames,” I said. “She was a changeling strong enough to rip a door to Annwn in the walls of the world. You can’t write changelings off just because most of us aren’t that powerful. Some of us break all the rules, and that means there’s no universally right answer.”

“Maybe Mags is on to something, though,” said Quentin. “We’re looking at the census of the Kingdom’s fae, right? Minus the changelings and the Cait Sidhe and I guess anyone who didn’t feel like being counted.”

“Right,” I said.

“Yes,” Mags said.

“Blind Michael isn’t on here,” Quentin said.

It was enough of a curveball that I paused for a moment, trying to adjust to this new information. It wasn’t happening. Frowning, I said, “That doesn’t surprise me—he didn’t technically live in this Kingdom since he had his own skerry. What are you getting at?”

“I guess just that there are people who have contact with this Kingdom all the time, but manage to stay outside of it. What if Dianda cast the geas? Patrick is listed, but she’s not. It could be almost anyone from the Undersea.”

“No, kidnapping isn’t their style.” I didn’t have to think about the words before I said them. The denizens of the Undersea might slit your throat or invade your lands, but they wouldn’t kidnap your children. That simply wasn’t how business was done down there. “Also, if Simon’s employer had been someone from the Undersea, turning me into a fish wouldn’t have saved me. It would have put me on the menu.”