“They’ll be hard to find.” Falin stood, heading for the door. “Fae are supposed to inform the court if they take on sworn fae or changelings. The master provides the tie to Faerie, and while it breaks our laws to hide a sworn fae, being unreported doesn’t affect their tie to Faerie through their master. Fear of the queen’s wrath if discovered is usually enough of a deterrent—”
“But the alchemist has already proven himself to be a less than law-abiding courtier, so it is not terribly surprising that he didn’t declare his sworn fae.” I sighed and shot a longing glance at Falin’s abandoned chair. I was so tired. “If they aren’t registered, how do we find out more about them?”
Falin motioned me to follow him, and I trudged behind him into the hall. “We can check the records and see if we can find out if they were in a territory we once held. That might give us more information on how the alchemist met them.” He paused in front of a door. Drawing a few glyphs on the door caused it to pop open, revealing a huge storage room filled with rows of book shelves, most crammed to the point of bursting with old, leather-bound books. The few shelves not filled with books were stuffed with stacks of ancient-looking scrolls.
“The censuses?” I guessed.
He nodded.
I stared at the rows of shelves. “Both used to be members of the shadow court. When they left, wouldn’t it be most likely they would become independents under shadow?”
“You can’t assume that being bogeymen makes them shadow.”
“It’s not an assumption. I had a reputable source. But I don’t know when they left or where they went.”
He turned to study me, but he didn’t ask about my source. He knew my great-granduncle was the king. I wasn’t about to reveal that I was theoretically betrothed to the prince.
“The shadow and light courts have no direct doors to the mortal realm—only the seasons do, so only the seasons have independent fae.”
Well, crap. That made sense. Shadow and light touched all of mortal reality indirectly, gaining belief magic through shadows, secrets, and nightmares for one court, and daydreams and creativity for the other. Light and shadow balanced each other the same way the seasons all balanced one another, but no direct doors meant no distinct territory, so no independents.
Where would the bogeymen have gone when they left the shadow court? Had they pledged to a season? Had they been granted the right to declare independent? Or had they immediately sworn themselves to the alchemist?
I glanced over the rows of books. It would take forever to go through even just the most recent ones.
“There is one more thing,” Falin said, crossing the room to a small nook I hadn’t noticed. A dark wood cabinet stood in the nook, and Falin had to use twice as much magic to open it as it had taken to enter the building. I peered around his shoulder as he opened the cabinet, but all it contained was yet another book—granted, a massive one—on a pedestal.
“Another census?”
“No,” Falin said, hefting the book out of its nook. “This is a collection of lore. Actually, all lore. If enough mortals to shape belief magic have ever believed in something fae related, it is in this book.”
I eyed the book. While it was the thickest book I’d ever seen, it didn’t look big enough to back up that claim. And anyway, how would one collect every bit of folklore that mortals believed? Well, there was one way.
“Magical artifact?” I asked, and Falin nodded. “Okay, I’ll take the folklore,” I said as Falin placed the book on a small desk tucked away in the corner. “You take the census.”
Falin looked less than thrilled at the idea, but he didn’t object. Then we both settled down for some research.
A spell in the book’s binding brushed my mind the moment I touched the cover. I jerked back at the mental touch. The artifact automatically recorded folklore, I knew that, but what else did it do? I mentally poked at the book with my ability to sense magic, but this was fae magic, not witch, and I was still only beginning to sense that. I let my hand hover over the binding again. While the brush of the spell was a very other sensation, it felt similar to the enchantments worked into my dagger. After hesitating a moment more, I flipped open the book.
The pages immediately began to turn, flipping rapidly as if caught in a breeze I couldn’t feel. Then they stopped. The book going still. Without touching the book again, I glanced at the page. Two words jumped out at me: Jenny Greenteeth.
I grinned. The book was apparently enchanted to help the reader find what they were looking for. Finally, something helpful. I scanned over the page and the grin slipped away. The book was written in Old English.
This was going to take a while.
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