There was no salvaging dinner.
Caimiléir left first. He gathered his helmet and turned to give us a sneer before he stormed out of the room, leaving the body of Greim on the floor. That crazy look passed over his face again, and I wondered if the events of the evening had gone more the way he had wanted than we could guess. I wondered what all the Uncourted and Unblessed pronouncements meant. I’d have to find out later.
The remaining guests didn’t precisely make a run for it, but they made little effort to linger. They gave Béil their sympathy, wished Erin and I well, and headed for the exits in small, embarrassed groups.
I wasn’t all that excited to hang around either, but I had a question I really wanted to ask our hostess. And it seemed disrespectful to leave Greim’s body on the floor and just walk away. I knelt down by the side of the little corpse.
There was a surprising amount of heat coming off the body. I could see a few holes on the back of the creature where the diamonds had been. They had been buried under the skin somehow. I couldn’t hazard a guess regarding the method Caimiléir had used to control the creature while the stones had been put in place. Perhaps he had a spell that put deamhans to sleep.
There was a tremendous clattering, and I turned to see Béil pulling the tablecloth off the table. She wasn’t bothering to clear the dishes first, so they were tumbling to the floor. The dishes and goblets shattered on the stone and the silverware rang out musically and loud. Her lack of concern over the breaking china and crystal stunned me for a moment. She handed the corner of the cloth to me, already stained with wine and I spread it out for Greim’s shroud. The body was very dense and weighed a surprising amount. I laid Greim out on his back and folded his arms across his chest and proceeded to wind him tightly in the cloth.
We held an impromptu funeral of sorts. I carried Greim outside to a spot under the cliff. Béil drew a rectangle on the ground and the dirt rolled out of the way. I laid Greim on top and jumped down into the newly-formed grave. It was comforting to feel the earthen walls around me and the smell of the freshly-opened ground spoke of rich and fragrant soil. And there was power. Like a thrumming wall of electricity just behind the dirt. So much power there, just beyond reach. So much power calling for my touch. But touching would be lethal.
The grave was deep enough that I could barely reach the little bundle, but I was able to get hold of him and put him gently to rest. I clambered out of the grave and we stood for a minute, me and Erin and Béil, looking at the black opening in the dirt in silence. Then Béil waved her hand over the dirt and it rolled itself back into place. Erin collected a small bouquet of flowers from near the shore and put them on top of the dirt.
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Finally, Béil whispered. “There will be. All that food. Inside.”
“Dinner would be nice,” I replied. I was actually starving.
Erin put her arm through mine as we trailed behind our melancholy hostess.
We looked in the kitchen to find Max and Sandretta had prepared a royal feast. There were six kinds of soup, mounds of roasted beef and ham, chickens on a rotisserie, potatoes with rosemary, rice scented with saffron, loaves of bread, baskets of rolls, beans, peas, carrots, turnips, spinach, and enough cakes, puddings, and pies to feed a party twice the size of the one that was no longer present upstairs.
Béil looked at all the food, in shock, for a long moment. Then she just shrugged her shoulders and laughed.
I tried to break the tension. “Well, there’s my dinner. What’re you ladies going to eat?”
Béil laughed harder. “We will. Have enough. Leftover. To celebrate. Your anniversary!” she said.
“Which one?” Erin replied. And we laughed together.
Béil’s sadness returned like a sudden summer cloud. She patted Erin on the arm. “Come. We’ll eat. And talk.”
There were serving platters nearby with nothing better to do, so we used them as trays to load up on bowls of soup with slabs of meat and vegetables and potatoes and rice and breads on the side. Instead of leading us upstairs to the dining room again, Béil took us to a room adjacent to the kitchen where there was a small table and some chairs. She got us seated comfortably and excused herself. She returned with two bottles of wine and two glasses, which were all her hands could manage.
“I begged. Stail and Láir. Whom you know. As Max. And Sandretta. To take. Some food. And go home.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” I replied.
Béil opened both bottles of wine and poured a glass for Erin and me. She left the opened bottle between us. The other bottle she kept and drank right from it. Couldn’t blame her.
She picked at her food, but Erin and I dug in. Delicious and filling comfort food—and some comfort was surely called for.
“Thou wast. Supposed. To be mine,” Béil said suddenly. I looked up at met her eyes. She was talking to me.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Thou wast. Supposed. To be. Mine,” she repeated. Then she looked at Erin and said, “Worry not. I want. Thee to hear.”
Erin nodded.
Béil took a deep breath. “Goethe. And I. Were born. In the same. Month. The only. Children born. That entire year. Can you. Imagine? Many thousands of. People. And only. Two children. Born.”
“I think it was a good year,” Erin said.
I smiled at her.
“We played. Together often. As children. You, Goethe. Don’t remember.”
She was right. I didn’t remember anything before I was eight years-old. For all I knew, we ran barefoot together through the autumn leaves and shared a baby bottle. Or, considering the times, a wet nurse. Bosom buddies.
“Thou was. Just called. Laoch then. Our parents. Always talked. About us. Getting married. Someday.”
“Did you know my mother?” I asked.
“I did. She was. Very beautiful. Young mortal. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Carried off. By the King. She lived. In this. Realm for. A while.” Her brow furrowed, remembering. “Then thou. Wast kidnapped. The King. Found thee. Brought thee back. Didn’t tell. Thy mother. Let her. Think thou. Wast dead. She died. Of a. Broken. Heart.”
I remembered Keeper’s telling of the story. He said the King was afraid to trust anyone. Still sucked for my mother.
“I was sad. As well,” Béil continued. “I was. Curious. I wanted. To know where. Thou wast. Buried. I followed. The King. Although it was. Forbidden. He went. Into a crypt. Beneath it. Was a room. Thy body. Wast there. But thou wast. Not dead. The King. And his. Priests. Talked about. Thy condition. They said. Thou wast. In between. Places. Not alive. But not dead. I was so. Scared.”
Béil took another drink from the bottle. A long one. She smiled ruefully.
“After that. I went. To visit thee. When I could. Manage. My parents. Never knew. Why. But they thought. Me morose. Going to. The crypts. As often. As I did. And I would talk to. Thee all. The time.
“Then. One day. I heard thee. Thou hadst mater . . . materialized. As a. Spirit.”
I had no idea what to think about this. The hairs on the back of my neck came to attention nonetheless.
“Thy body wast. Lying still. But thy voice. Wast coming. From this. Other image. At first I was. Too afraid. To speak. After a while. I found. My courage.”
She had almost finished the bottle of wine now. She was often a mean person, but as she drank, she grew mellow.
“We talked. Thy spirit. Could not leave. The crypt. Thou saidst. Thou wast in. A place. That was. Bright. At least. A place. Of beauty. Trees. And rivers. And animals. Of every kind. But no. People. Thou wert. Alone. In paradise.
“So. I would visit. Often and. We would. Share stories. I grew. Thou remained. A child. Thou wast. My best friend. And. I fell in love. With thee. My powers. Had always. Been strong. As I became. A woman. I tried. To find a way. To bring. Thee back. My search. Was long. And difficult. I read. All the books. And scrolls. I could find. For decades. I searched. For an answer. At last. I found. The means. To reunite. Thy spirit. And body. Or so. I thought.
“I had. To summon. A deamhan. His name. Was Brón. We made. A bargain.”
“Oh, Béil,” Erin said. She moved her chair to be next to Béil and wrapped her arms around her.
“It was. Simple really. Brón would create. A vessel. For. Thy spirit. The deamhan. Would let. Us live out. Our lives. And. When I die. My soul. Will take. Deamhan form. And I will. Serve Brón. Forever.”
I was amazed how controlled Béil was. She didn’t cry or get angry. I suppose she had come to terms with the consequences of her decision a long time ago. She was like Milly Mallondyke in that way. She had already given the allotment of tears necessary to pay the bill on the pain. On the other hand, Erin was a basket case. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away before they could fall and stain Béil’s dress.
“I also. Had to give. Offerings. From inside. Myself. Since that. Day. I have. Had trouble. Speaking.” Béil gave that rueful smile again. “But. It worked. I passed out. After the. Ceremony. When I woke up. My friend. Had returned. Body and spirit. Together.”
Béil put her hand on Erin’s cheek for a moment. Then she stood up and left the room.
Erin and I looked at each other, not really knowing what to think or what to say.
Béil was only gone for a few seconds. When she returned, she was holding the hand of the little boy in the old-fashioned shirt.
“This is. My friend,” Béil said. “This is. Laoch.” She turned and looked at the boy, “Can you. Say ‘Hello.’ Laoch?”
The boy stared at us for a long moment and then shook his head.
“Laoch. Rarely speaks. To anyone. But me,” she said. “Please don’t. Take offense.”
“Of course not,” I replied. This was the answer to the question I had been meaning to ask. I stood and went over to the boy and held out my hand. With a measure of defiance burning in his eyes, he shook my hand. “You gave me a warning the other night. I should have listened to you,” I said. “And you brought that bullet casing to my office. It helped me find out some very important information. You may have helped save a man’s life. Maybe even my life. For that you should be proud.”
The boy Laoch didn’t move to respond. He just looked at me and I realized where I had seen his eyes before.
Every morning in the mirror.
“May I look at your hands for a moment?” I asked.
Laoch stuck his free hand out, but he didn’t let go of Béil with the other. My new vision was more than good enough to see the fingerprints on our hands. They were a match. “That explains a lot,” I said. “We have the same fingerprints.” I turned to Erin. “That’s why you found my fingerprints on the bullet casing.” Back to Laoch, I said. “Do me a favor, okay? Don’t rob any banks.”
I stood and looked Béil in the eyes. She was calm.
“He does. Tasks for me. Without fear. He is very. Strong. And brave. As thou art.”
But he’s not really me. He’s a facsimile.
“When I. Need to go. To the. mortal realm. I send him. And he. In turn. Summons me there.”
That explained a great deal.
Béil knelt and gave Laoch a kiss on the forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. She whispered something to him and he left the room. Before he turned the corner, he gave us all a quick stare.
Béil watched him leave. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but her expression would be best described as mixed. We went back to the table. “He never. Ages. He never changes. This is why. You are. So broken. And so. Am I. There are. Other things. Missing. From inside me. This is. Why I. Have treated you. So cruelly. I have. Been like this. For so. Many years. I now. Have. A reputation. To uphold.”
She smiled again, but it was more sad than rueful.
She turned to Erin. “The other. Night when. There was. The choosing. For the. Helpmeet. I thought. Got would. Remember me. Or at least. Remember the. Pleasure I. Showed him. It never. Occurred to me. That he would. Choose. Someone else. I thought. Destiny. Would bring. The two of. Us together. Again. I was wrong.”
Béil turned to me again.
“Because I. Thought I. Had thee. I never. Went back. To the crypt. I did not. Realize. Thou wert. Still there. After a while. I realized. Laoch was not. Growing older. Still I. Never went. Back. I thought. It was. Brón’s doing. Decades passed. Instead of. Laoch’s lover. I became. His mother. Then. The Alder King. And his Priests. Found a way to. Heal thee. Thou wast taken. To the Mama. Thou grewest. Into the man. I expected.”
She looked at me as if she was comparing me in the flesh to what she had envisioned in her mind. I wished then that Laoch hadn’t gone from the room. If he and I were different pieces off the same soul, how would it feel to look into his eyes now? My eyes?
“I visited. The Mama. From time to. Time. You know. To see. How thou. Wast growing.”
I had a flashback. Peeking out from my hiding place in The Mama’s house to see a hooded figure who came in the middle of the night. It had been Béil.
“I became angry. At the King. His priests. At Brón. At thee. But mostly. At myself.”
“You couldn’t have known how things would turn out,” I offered.
Béil shook her head. “I knew. The bargain. With Brón would. Be a trap. Of some sort. Deamhan bargains. Are ever thus. But never. What you think.”
I looked down at my platter and found most of the food was gone. I hardly remembered eating it. I had been listening to Béil intensely and hadn’t paid attention to the task of putting food in my mouth—but I had certainly had my fill.
“I am. Concerned thou. Wilt be. Unable to. Defeat him,” Béil was saying to me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean. Caimiléir. Thou must. Defeat him.”
“I get that. I’m the prince, and the task falls to me because the Eternals have to be summoned to the mortal realm to do anything. And Eternals won’t take action if it doesn’t affect them directly. Caimiléir knows that,” I still wasn’t prepared to mention the Jeweled Gate, but it was pretty clear that Caimiléir had designs to keep the Eternals out of it. “If I’m right, he’s bypassing this realm altogether and skipping straight to the big show in the mortal realm. I think that scene he put on tonight was just to make sure the King had one last chance to get on board Caimiléir’s crazy train. By the way, what does all that stuff mean that the King said about Caimiléir being Uncourted and Knight Solitary?”
Erin offered an explanation. “Uncourted means that he belongs to no faction. That’s both a good and a bad thing. On the one hand, he won’t be able to ask for support to back him up.”
“I don’t think he wants any,” I replied.
“I agree,” Erin replied. “It also means that he cannot dishonor any of the houses of the host. Any dishonor belongs to him and him alone.”
“So if there are consequences, he has to pay them—but he’s almost free to do what he wants this way because he’s not bound by any court rules. Is that it?”
“Exactly.”
I sighed. “It’s almost like the King wants him to try this insane plan of his.”
“If so. Then only. That thou. Mayest stop it,” Béil said. “Thou art. Halfling. Thou hast. A vested. Interest. In both realms. Especially the. Mortal. But thou. Art reckless. Ignoring the. Warnings from. Laoch and I. Almost killed thee. This begs. The question. Canst thou make. The choices. That will. Be required?”
I didn’t answer. Béil turned to Erin. “Time. Is short. Will he. Be prepared?”
Erin didn’t say anything, but I saw her clench her jaw.
“Be vigilant. Be wary. Caimiléir. Will use thee. For his. Own purposes. Don’t be fooled.”
I nodded.
“Lastly. Remember this,” Béil continued. “It’s no secret. I will. Want my. Share of the. Glory. When the. Time comes. Find. The place. Where Caimiléir. Will be. Summoning. The deamhan. I will. Help thee. Kill. Him.”
“I already have a pretty good idea where that will be.”
“Do you?”
“It’s what I do. I investigate.”
Béil looked at me intently. Her words were as cold as an iceberg. “Caimiléir too. Must die.”
Suddenly, Béil went from lecturing me about how to do my job to rolling her eyes up into her head. She was as immobile and silent as a statue.
“Béil?”
She didn’t move. Her lips didn’t move. Her throat didn’t move. But there was a voice. It sounded like Béil, but it didn’t speak like her. The syntax was elegant and smooth.
What was once above is below,
What was below, above.
What was once in is out,
What was out is in.
Call the inside out,
Not the outside in.
What the heck was that?
Her eyelids fluttered and Béil stirred. Only a few seconds had passed.
“Are you all right? Béil?”
I dipped a table napkin in a goblet of water and brushed Béil’s forehead and cheeks. Erin rubbed her hands. “She’s cold,” Erin said.
Moments passed with no change. I shot Erin a look wondering if she knew what to do and she looked back at me. Finally, Béil shivered. Her eyes rolled back down and focused on us, seeing the concern in our faces.
“Oh,” she said. “Was I. Gone?”
“Just for a minute,” Erin replied.
“What did. I say?”
I repeated the words.
Béil listened and nodded. “Another. Gift from. Brón. A side effect. I can’t control. It happens. From time. To time.”
“Is it prophecy?” Erin asked.
“I’m. Never sure. Sometimes it. Seems to be. Prophecy. If one. Can understand it. It sometimes. Comes true. Sometimes it is. Just. Bad poetry.”
That made me laugh.
Béil laughed too. She said, “I’m like. Cassandra. Except instead. Of being. Cursed with prophecies. Nobody believes. I’m cursed with. Prophecies that. Aren’t worth. Believing.”
“Maybe it will be useful,” I said.
Béil waved her hand wearily. “You two. Should go. I’m tired. And. You have things. To do.”
We took her at her word. As we left, we told her that the evening had been memorable and the food delicious and she was thoughtful to have put all the arrangements together. She sort of nodded her head and that was it. For the first time, I thought of Béil as a real person.
Erin and I walked down toward the lake. The new moon had made some progress in its climb up the sky and its light shimmered on the lake like silver ribbons cast on the water. Behind us, there was a new grave for a dead deamhan. There had been another death in my realm, the mortal realm, with the Tongan. The blood of both was on Caimiléir’s hands, and he needed to be stopped before more blood was spilled.
“I have a question for Keeper,” I said, breaking the stillness of the twilight. I regretted doing it. “First I have to check out the place where Caimiléir may be building the Jeweled Gate.”