I looked up into the huge spread of limbs and moss and leaves above us. There was enough greenery to make the sky feel a world away, the sun distant and small. Birds lived in those branches. Other animals too.
Old trees like this were important, not just for the natural world, but also for the magical world.
This was an old spirit that radiated patience and welcome. It was a part of the magic here, a part of what kept this place magical.
“We can’t chop it down,” I repeated, in case Card hadn’t heard me. The bug bites were starting to add up to some serious itching. I tried to keep my hands off the worst of them. “But I don’t know what else we can do for Lilt Keyva. She really wants this gone. Really, really wants it gone.”
“Then I’ll make sure it’s gone,” he said simply.
I didn’t like the look in his eyes. “I don’t like the look in your eyes.”
He grinned, and there, under the branch and bramble, in the wet and green, he looked wild as honey, free as a wing.
“You’ll want to step back, maybe,” he said.
“How far? Antarctica?”
He laughed. “Have a little faith in me, Ricks.”
“You’re gonna use magic, aren’t you?”
“Might as well.”
“If someone sees you...”
“I will be subtle as a whisper,” he said. “Trust me.”
I shook my head, but got moving. An electric charge gathered around him, magic building like the far-off hum of a summer thunderstorm, the taste of it a zing of tart berry crushed between tongue and cheek.
When Card drew upon his magic, he was dazzling. Alive. A part of something wondrous, but not the least bit dimmed by its magnificence.
I knew, right then and there, that no matter how much I tried to convince myself to be logical about him, my heart yearned.
My heart loved that wild, chaotic man.
And I had no idea what to do about that.
I walked with one eye on him, the other on keeping me from tripping over the stones, grasses, and wood cluttering the soggy ground, until I was standing next to the swamp siren again.
“He doesn’t need your axe?” she asked.
“Oh, I wouldn’t trust him with it.”
Lilt Keyva turned her attention to him, a man without a sharp blade of any kind in his hands, then back to me.
“Is he going to ask the tree to chop itself down?”
I thought about it. That might be exactly what he was planning. Despite what Lilt Keyva had accused him of, he was still heart-rooted to his tree. It gave him power, it gave him persuasion over the green and growing. Maybe he was going to ask the tree to bend, to grow more to one side.
The fact that he was also half wizard would help get the message through to the old tree too.
“He’s not doing anything,” she said.
“Give him a minute. That man doesn’t know how to hold still.”
But he was holding still. He had settled down on one of the roots crooked like a knuckle out of the muck.
His back was pressed to the trunk now, his hands resting on his thighs. I didn’t know how a man with that many muscles, and thighs that big could sit in an easy tailor position, but he had folded down like it was natural.
And for him, when it came to reaching out and connecting with the green, with an old tree, it was.
A beam of sunlight twisted between twig and moss to brighten the side of his hair and cheekbone, making him glow.
He lifted one hand and called on magic.
Magic came to him softly, like a breeze, like spring, like the dewy brush of dawn.
It gathered around him in a figure eight, the symbol of infinity, curving and sinuous between his hands, a river, the universe, the Milky Way between his palms.
The magic looked soft, and it was. But then, so was water. So was time. So was love.
And every one of those things had carved holes into the world and changed civilizations.
It was always amazing to see him use magic so easily. It flowed through his blood, came to him through soil and root and leaf.
I didn’t know how he was going to talk a tree that old into growing in a new way, and to somehow balance the canopy in a new way, leaning its trunk out of the swamp siren’s line of sight.
I just hoped he wasn’t going to destroy such an old, strong tree.
The magic built, thick enough I could feel the pressure as a pain in my molars, a thumb pressing too hard on my forehead.
He didn’t raise his voice, but I could hear the string of soft words, more song than spell, as he ordered the magic to follow his will.
The ground shook. A deep, low tremble built and built. Birds fled branches, squirrels chittered, fish jumped, bugs swarmed upward into clouds.
The great tree swayed, the huge canopy flailing as if buffeted by hurricane winds. Winds I could not feel.
I had a moment to double-check the height of the tree against my position. If the tree fell toward me, I was not in the clear.
I didn’t think Card was angry enough to smash me with an entire tree, but then, I hadn’t expected him to show up at my doorstep having pickpocketed Fate.
I clasped my hand tighter around the rocks in my pocket, feeling the warm connection between me and the Crossroads, ready to pull myself closer to my home soil if needed.
Just to be on the safe side, I also took several steps backward.
The ground shook hard and fast, like a dog shedding rain. The big tree rocked backward.
But instead of falling or leaning to one side, the tree roots lifted up out of the wet and muck, huge, long, and snake-like, rising to the sky like a squid flailing for the top of a tank.
Mud, grasses, and gunk bombed down from above, a fire hose spray of dirt and grime pounding into the water and weeds.
I ducked and threw one arm over my head, stumbling backward toward clearer space, except there was no clearer space.
I couldn’t see the swamp siren, but then, I could barely see anything.
My nose and mouth filled with the gritty mineral taste of mud mixed with rotten eggs, duckweed, and fish poop.
I spat and sputtered and clambered backward until my calves hit against a log too thick to climb over.
The ground wasn’t shaking as much now. The deluge of mud lightened to a spotty drizzle.
I clawed a layer of muck off my eyes and tried to assess the situation.
The tree, the great, old tree that held the sky in its branches, was moving.
It was not leaning.
It was not falling.
It was moving with a motion I’d only ever seen in videos of octopuses walking across the sandy bottom of an ocean.
The tree, the great, old tree had pulled up its roots like octopus tentacles. Those roots wobbled and reached, carrying the whole of the tree structure with it in a staggering, weirdly mincing gait.
“Hell’s balls,” I swore.
I had seen a lot of magic in my life. My house was filled with magic. I took care of magical things, had met a lot of magical people.
But this magic was two combined—dryad and wizard. It was not supposed to be possible. It was not supposed to be controllable. It was absolutely not recommended to ever try combining the two. And yet, here it was in all its impossible, huge, flashy glory.
The great tree wobbled and wove, moving down toward the fishing hole. That much lumber strolling across the swamp was undoubtedly screwing up all sorts of things under the water. It was re-routing currents and smashing things growing deep in the muck. It was wrecking the nesting and feeding places of fish, crawfish, and gators.
Card was probably destroying the fishing holes Lilt Keyva was so keen to observe, while simultaneously doing exactly what she wanted and saving the old tree.
It was wickedly brilliant.
The tree paused, creaking as it seemed to teeter one way and the next in indecision.
Then the tree lurched drunkenly to the side. It crashed into several smaller trees that cracked and groaned, before it came to a thumping halt.
Roots flailed for just a moment more, almost like the big old tree was waving at me, then the roots curled downward, burrowing for the earth beneath the swampy waters.
“Subtle as a whisper, my ass,” I said.
The silence was a solid thing, an echo of nothingness in my skull that went white noise. For a moment, that silence was thicker than the mud the tree had dredged from the swamp.
Then that silence was broken by a single, male voice. “Fuck, yes! Did you see that, Ricks? Tree walking.”
He let out a whoop of laughter, and all the fear and adrenalin in me punched out in laughter too.
I was relieved and horrified and so very impressed by what he’d done.
I didn’t know what price he would pay for slinging around that much magic—both magics—and holding that kind of influence over something so ancient.
“Ricks?” he called out. “Ricky?” That last was said with a thin note of panic.
“I’m right here,” I yelled. “I’m fine. But you are an absolute menace.”
“That was...not what I expected.” Lilt Keyva leaned on a large rock behind me. She was just as clean and stunning as before the side show. She’d somehow avoided all of the muck falling from the sky.
“He might be an in-the-box problem,” I said, “but he’s an out-of-the-box thinker.”
I trudged out onto more solid ground so I could make my way down to the newly re-planted ancient tree.
I didn’t hear Card moving my way. I only had minutes, at most, before he passed out from the power load.
The tall grasses slowed me as I picked my way through the muck toward the tree. There might be sinkholes and gaps in the earth since an entire damn tree had just taken an entire damn stroll through the weeds.
In front of me, the tree loomed large. It fit there perfectly, plenty of sky and space around it. The smaller trees it had bumped on landing even looked happy taking shelter under its canopy.
Card was nowhere to be seen. “Card?” I called. “You still alive?”
He staggered around from behind the roots. “Hey, Ricks.” The words were slurred, drunken, or injured. “Hey.” He took one more step. “Tree? Sooo. Tree.”
His eyes rolled up into his head.
“Oh, for the love of...” I sprinted toward him.
He toppled forward and face-planted in the muck.
I squatted and pulled his shoulder, heaving him onto his back. He was out cold and weighed a ton.
“You always think juggling dryad and wizard magic is going to be easy. And now look at you. You are unconscious.” I wiped the worst of the mud and leaves off his mouth and nose, so his airways were clear. “At least you’re breathing this time.”
“This wasn’t what we agreed upon,” Lilt Keyva said. She’d moved a little closer.
I stood from my crouch and looked around. “Your view of the fishing hole is clear. You can see the banks from your rocks now.”
“But the water will change. There may not even be fishing holes there soon.”
“Or there might be better ones. You agreed if we removed the tree that was annoying you, you would give us Fate’s coin. I wouldn’t recommend going back on that deal.”
I rolled my shoulders and rested my hand on the hilt of my short sword.
Was it a threat? Yes.
Was it obvious? Yes.
Did I care that I was asking for a fight?
Oh, not one bit.
“I didn’t ask for the tree to walk.”
“Is that your favorite rock?” I pointed back to where she and I had been just moments before.
“Yes.”
“Can you now see the fishing hole from there?”
“Yes.” That was said grudgingly.
“Then either hand over Fate’s coin or fight me. I am wet, hot, and I itch in places that should never be bitten. I’m in the mood to throw down.”
She squinted down at Card, over at me, then off to the tree.
“Gary is going to hate this,” she mused.
“Too bad for Gary. Coin,” I ordered.
“I could tell you what I wouldn’t tell the dryad instead,” she said.
“No. You’ll give me the coin.”
“I could tell you what even your Crossroads doesn’t know.”
I flexed one hand into a fist and shifted my grip on the short sword. “I don’t play games, swamp siren. Your voice won’t tempt me into a bargain I didn’t ask for.”
She chuckled. It sent shivers across my bug-bitten skin. “Oh, I haven’t even begun to tempt you. Shall I? Shall I show you how much you actually care for him, once you set your anger aside?”
“Coin. That’s all I want here.”
Card groaned. It sounded like he was going to be sick. I didn’t look back, because I was currently in a staring contest with an ancient, dangerous supernatural, and I did not want to lose.
“The only thing I want out of this is Fate’s coin,” I repeated.
She glanced over my shoulder at Card, then back at me. “There’s nothing else your heart desires?”
And my traitorous heart skipped a beat.
“No.”
“There are no memories you’d like erased, no sorrow eased?”
“No.”
“Oh, Crossroads,” she said sadly. “Not even I believe that lie.”
“Good thing I don’t need your belief,” I said. “Just the coin.”
“It will do you no good.” She drew it into her hand again, a burning copper flame rolling between finger and thumb.
“If I keep it, I will grant you a boon. I will look into your future. Or the future of any person you wish to know about.”
Could she do it? Probably. She was a seer.
Did I want to know the future? Mine, Card’s, maybe if his sister was alive to have a future? Sure.
But I didn’t have to be a seer to know that if we didn’t get these coins back to Fate, Card’s tree would die. Then he would too. Slowly.
For reasons I didn’t want to name, my heart just couldn’t abide in a world where there wasn’t one particularly annoying, chaotic dryad-wizard wandering around.
I held out my palm. “Just the coin. And we’ll be done here.”
For a moment, I thought she would refuse. After all, she had Fate’s coin in her fingers. But her gaze shifted back to Card, to the tree, to me.
She flipped the coin, sending it spinning into the air between us.
I snatched it out of flight and gasped softly as its power came in contact with my skin. It was heady and alluring. Almost as if the coin were begging to be spent.
It was a damn wonder Card hadn’t spent them all in one go.
“I appreciate you holding up your end of the bargain,” I said, dropping the coin safely into my pocket.
“It wasn’t going to do me much good, was it?” At my confused look, she chuckled. It was genuine and made her look even more beautiful.
“You will understand soon enough, I expect. Fate’s coins are not the easy gold they’re assumed to be. Good luck with that.” She waved a finger in Card’s general vicinity.
“Thanks.”
“My tree!” a deep voice yelled out. “Who moved my tree?”
Lilt Keyva’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Better go,” she whispered. Then she pressed a finger against her lips, telling me to be quiet, and started off toward the voice.
“Keyva! Was that you? Did you...move my tree?”
“Oh, be quiet, Gary,” she called out, her voice carrying like a rung bell on a clear day. “No one can move a tree that big.”
I made my way back to Card. He still lay on his back, eyes open now, staring at the limbs and sky above, like he’d just fallen from a great height.
“Everything’s fuzzy,” he mumbled. “Why is everything so fuzzy?”
“Because you just about broke your brain mixing the wizard magic and dryad magic you are not supposed to mix.”
“Even my back is fuzzy. Am I fuzzy? My skin. Ricky, is my skin fuzzy? How soft am I? Soooo soft.” He smiled, and his eyes unfocused.
I bit back a laugh and crouched.
“You aren’t fuzzy. You’re massively magic hungover. Which means we’re not Walking home.”
“Okay, Ricky. Okay. Walking’s too...” He lifted one hand and sort of gave a limp wave. “Fuzzy.”
I snorted. “You are a mess.”
The smile that spread over his face was wonderous. “Fuzzy? A fuzzy, fuzzy mess.”