“Her offer is on the table for a short time,” Falin said, taking another step closer to Malik. “My threat is ongoing.”
Malik dropped his hand. “Right. Well, like I said it is nothing definitive, but there are a series of small ponds not far north of here. Recently one of them fouled without obvious cause. The nixies won’t go near it. It is nothing certain, but last time I met Peg Powler, she preferred hunting in dank, putrid bogs. But that is all I know—I haven’t seen the hag herself.”
I recognized the name as one of Jenny’s aliases, though I couldn’t now remember which stories had included which names. Not that it mattered; most of the tales had the same theme.
Falin rubbed his chin, looking for all the world as if he was dissatisfied with Malik’s answer. I, on the other hand, had to keep tight control on my feet so I didn’t hurry off in the direction Malik had indicated.
Falin asked a few more questions, mostly clarifying the location of the befouled pond and the most direct path to and from it. Then he dismissed the other fae, who was all but quivering by the time he slunk back into the swamp. I would have preferred Malik to guide us to the ponds, but his directions were clear, and I’d take what I could. After all, we finally had a lead.
Chapter 23
“This has to be it,” I said, stopping several feet from the dark water. Malik’s directions had been easy enough to follow, we weren’t even that far off of the main trail. Easier to eat children if they are likely to wander to your doorstep. I shivered and edged back a step from the pond. “Now what?”
Falin gazed across the expanse of algae-encrusted water. “Now we knock on her door.”
He stepped forward, lifting a blade out of who-knew-where he kept them magically concealed. Dragging the edge of the blade across his palm, he opened a thin slit. Blood welled to the surface and he walked up to the edge of the pond. Fisting his hand over the water, he let several fat drops of red blood fall to the slimy green surface. Then, in a voice that had to be magically amplified, called out, “Jenny Greenteeth, I summon you. As knight of the winter court, I compel your attendance.”
“Will that really work? You can compel any fae in winter territory?” I asked, watching the still surface. The pond wasn’t large, maybe fifty feet at its widest point. During the summer droughts, all but the deepest sections probably vanished.
“If she was a regular courtier or independent, and assuming she’s home, then yes, it would work. But we don’t know who she’s sworn herself to. I can’t compel a noble, nor a fae sworn under a noble.”
And Icelynne had said she thought the alchemist was Sleagh Maith. If Jenny was sworn to him, this wouldn’t work. Of course, for it to work at all, we had to hope we were in the right place and she was home.
Nothing moved or disturbed the water.
Malik had been spot-on in his assessment that the pond had been fouled. The stagnant water stank, algae covered all but a few murky spots, and the mud around the edges was littered with decaying fish and seaweed. But this was the floodplains. It consistently flooded and then drained back—who was to say this wasn’t the pond’s natural cycle. Except that the nixies won’t go near it. From what I knew of them, nixies were harmless and rather childlike water spirits. They did have a propensity to predict deaths while they danced across the water, but they just predicted it, they didn’t cause it. They were attracted to all decent-sized bodies of water, so their avoidance of this pond might truly be odd. Malik had certainly implied it was. But then again, fae often relied on implication to skirt the truth. Not being capable of lying meant you had to get creative.
The water remained still.
“Do you think she’s out or are we in the wrong place?” I asked, willfully ignoring the possibility she simply didn’t have to answer.
Falin wrapped a handkerchief around his palm—people still carried those?—and frowned at the expanse of unmoving water. “I’ll have some agents stake out the area, for if she returns.”
That was a good idea. I walked a few more feet along the edge of the pond, trying to see if it branched off. Something tugged on my senses, and I stopped.
Falin pulled his phone out of his pocket, and then scowled at the screen. “No signal.” He looked around, as if trying to judge what spot in the nature preserve was more likely to get cell signal. “We’d better head back.”
I nodded, but the movement was distracted as I tried to zero in on what my senses were picking up. It wasn’t magic, at least not Aetheric witchy magic. But there was something familiar about it. I took a few more steps—in the opposite direction of the path we’d taken to get here.