Elliot tumbled off my shoulder. “Go on,” said Caryl.
“Probably on one of the soundstages, but it will take fey glasses to find out which one has been warded.”
“I assume you are basing this theory on something other than your very fruitful imagination?”
“Shipments of graphite and diamond to the studio. I talked to Baroness Foxfeather, and she found it plausible that Berenbaum and Rivenholt might have been able to undertake the construction.”
“Building a Gate without the supervision of the Arcadia Project is a violation of the Accord.”
“Which means you’re fully authorized to kick their asses. I’d really like to see that, but I understand if you don’t want me there.”
There was a long silence. Reading nothing from Caryl, I looked for Elliott, but of course I couldn’t see him.
I looked back at Caryl. “I’m sorry if—”
“Don’t waste time with apologies. I can feel stress fractures in the construct as it is.”
“Sorry.”
“You believe that Claybriar is your Echo?”
“He’s the one who drew the pictures, including that one of me, and he seemed familiar to me the first time I laid eyes on him.”
“Almost without exception, Echoes tend to be nobility, but we’ve had reason to believe Claybriar was a special case. If he is in fact your Echo, we will need you to accompany us, because you may serve as an additional help in locating him.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Also, if he is your Echo, we will need to register you both properly.”
She was all business, but from the feel of it, Elliott was now clinging to my neck. “For God’s sake, Caryl, how am I supposed to just ignore your feelings?”
“In theory,” said Caryl, “you could do what everyone in the Project seems able to do: recognize that if I wanted my emotions noticed and commented upon, I would wear them like everyone else. But as this concept seems impossible for you to grasp, I will remove myself and my familiar to another room. Given the current instability of our relations with Arcadia, it would be unwise for me to spend time there recharging from the loss if emotional overload causes a rupture in my spellwork.”
“Well, for what it’s worth,” I said, “I missed you, too.”
Caryl just spread her hands in a vague gesture of resignation, then turned and headed for the stairs. “Get a pair of glasses from Song,” she called back as she walked away, “and tell Teo you’ll be assisting us. When the two of you are finished fighting, come to your former room, and the five of us will discuss our strategy.”
“Five?”
“Gloria and Tjuan will be coming as well.”
“Caryl—” I began. But as usual, she’d already made her exit.
43
I figured of the two awkward reunions, the one with Song would be the least fraught, so I headed to her room with my most ingratiating smile. I found her sitting in a handmade rocker with her baby leaning half-asleep into the crook of her arm. I could have sworn he was twice as fat as the last time I’d seen him.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello,” she returned quietly, glancing meaningfully toward the sleeping baby. There was a tense undercurrent to her usual passiveness that told me she’d put me in the “potential abuser” category. I couldn’t feel particularly slandered; if the shoe fits, kick yourself with it.
“Caryl sent me here for a pair of fey glasses,” I said, lowering my voice to match hers. At Song’s dubious look I added, “I’m not hired back. I’m just helping with one last thing.”
“They’re in the top drawer,” she murmured, pointing with her chin toward a dresser at the back of the room.
I moved as stealthily as my prosthetics allowed. “Your baby’s looking healthy,” I half whispered. “What’s his name?”
“Sterling,” she replied.
There was nothing I could reply that wouldn’t reek of insincerity, so I just found myself a pair of glasses and tried out the fit. They pinched the bridge of my nose a little, but it wasn’t as though I’d be keeping them.
“I’ll bring these back as soon as—” My words dried up as I turned back toward the rocker.
The baby in Song’s arms was glowing, and not just with contentment. The fey glasses revealed the swirling eddies of golden light that moved over his skin like vapor over dry ice. “Holy shit,” I breathed.
Song turned and gave me a wan smile. “Oh,” she said. “Yeah.”
“Why is the baby—” I stopped, remembering that this household’s mysteries had never been mine to know. “Right; it’s none of my business.”
Song gave a soft shrug, not meeting my eyes. “His father was fey. I didn’t know about Arcadia then.” She looked uncertain about saying more.
“You don’t have to explain.”