When Berenbaum’s Valiant rounded the corner of Pier Avenue, four heads turned. Caryl was leaning casually against the BEWARE OF DOG sign while my coworkers orbited her with varying degrees of nervousness. Teo appeared to have actually combed his hair, and Tjuan was squatting down on the sidewalk, letting Gloria pick lint off his button-down. They all stared as we pulled up to the curb.
“Hey, guys!” called Berenbaum, waving from the driver’s seat like the grand marshal of a parade. “Sorry it took so long. Traffic was a bitch!”
I got out of the passenger’s side and used my cane and the hood to steady myself as I walked around the car. The devil made me lean over and give Berenbaum an airy good-bye kiss on the cheek. His eyes twinkled with repressed laughter.
“Later, darling,” I said. “I’ll call you.”
My moment of glory didn’t last. The minute Berenbaum drove away, the stares all moved to me, one blank and three decidedly unfriendly.
“We thought you were back at the hospital, or hiding out in a church,” said Teo. “All that time you’re just out for a joyride.”
“You shouldn’t have called her,” said Tjuan.
“I was working!” I said as Caryl unlocked the gate. “I can’t help it if I make it look fabulous.”
Tjuan gave me a look of such withering contempt that it smothered the last gasp of my good humor. What was his deal with me? Teo and Gloria had good reason to dislike me, but I’d never been anything but civil to Tjuan. I tried not to dwell on it; it was far from the first time a clique had reacted to me as though they shared a brain.
“Berenbaum assures me Rivenholt is still alive,” I said more seriously, “and he’s going to arrange for me to meet with Vivian Chandler and Inaya West.” Those things were both true. If they chose to connect them in a way that sounded Project-related, all the better.
“It might be too late,” said Teo, offering me his arm as we headed for the sloping sidewalk. I ignored it but made a mental note under the heading Reasons Not to Strangle Teo. “In the ten years I’ve been with the Project,” he said, “the Queen has never sent an emissary here. I think the shit’s already hit the fan.”
Caryl gave Teo a bland look. “Let us postpone hysteria until we have spoken to the man.”
Caryl’s use of “man” notwithstanding, the creature sitting in the leather armchair in the back bedroom had not even bothered with a facade. I suppose he looked vaguely human, aside from being beautiful enough to burn trails of fire down my optic nerves. The green raccoonlike markings around his eyes might have passed for a mask in dim light, but the eyes themselves shone like pools of mercury, and on closer examination he had only four fingers on each hand.
“Greetings, allies mine,” he half sang, rising to reveal a height in excess of seven feet. “My name is called Duke Skyhollow, Right Hand of Her Majesty, Queen Dawnrowan of the Seelie Court.” He put his emphasis on all the wrong syllables. Not someone who spent a lot of time on this side of the Gate, apparently.
“We are honored by your presence, Your Grace,” said Caryl. “I am Marchioness Caryl Vallo, and my companions are Viscount Tjuan Miller, Viscountess Gloria Day, Baron Mateo Salazar, and Lady Millicent Roper.”
What the hell?
“I thank thee of thy welcome gracious, my lady,” Skyhollow said with a theatrical bow.
“And I thank you for your patience. How may we serve Her Majesty?”
“The Queen is under large distress,” the duke said. “We wish to know why Her Majesty’s agent reports not.”
“Her Majesty’s agent?” Caryl echoed. “You must mean our errant viscount. I was not aware that he was representing Her Majesty in any capacity.”
“Nay,” said the duke. “Not a viscount, the agent of whom I speak. It is a commoner.”
Caryl was speechless for a full four seconds, though no sign of shock or distress appeared on her face. “I see. So you mean to say another fey besides Viscount Rivenholt has failed to return to Arcadia as scheduled?”
“At this time, the return of the commoner was not to expect. It was to report at dawn and dusk on its progress. However, twice it hath failed to report, and thus demandeth Her Majesty its ASAP return to Arcadia. Thou art ordered in this matter to assist.”
“Because we’re so great at rounding up rogue fey this week,” muttered Teo behind me. He seemed to be having an easier time than I was untangling the duke’s syntax.
“Give me the commoner’s name,” said Caryl with the alacrity of someone given a stay of execution. “I shall locate the corresponding file and begin the search immediately.”
“Of the hircine persuasion is this commoner, and its name is called Claybriar.”