Invincible (4 page)

“And you know the rest,” Joy said, shoulders slumping. “The
door is open, the Folk remember, but the King and Queen have not Returned. Now
Ink is upset, the Council's pissed off and you're giving me a history lesson in
my brother's bedroom.”

“Yes, well...” Graus Claude had the grace to look
uncomfortable, shifting his towel-wrapped toes against the mattress.
“Circumstances are hardly ideal, but I have graver concerns.” His gaze slid
sideways. “Do you know what that place was beyond the door, those verdant fields
and succulent mists under a milk-and-honey summer sky?” Joy shook her head. The
Bailiwick hung his. “You were in Faeland, Miss Malone.”

“Fairyland?” Joy said. “I thought that didn't exist.”

“Not Fairyland like some children's tale,” he snapped. “
Fae
land. Where all Folk eventually make their Imminent
Return.”

Joy frowned. “What? Like Heaven?”

“Heaven is a human concept,” Graus Claude said mildly. “And—who
knows?—perhaps it is a human reality. However, none who cross those pearly gates
ever return to confirm or deny its existence, yet all the Folk know that they
have a place in Faeland when all is said and done.” He turned his massive head
with a palsied shiver. “Immortality is a concept that far exceeds our physical
firmaments.”

Joy's limbs went numb. “You mean... I was in
Folk Heaven
?”

“It's not as if we have worlds within worlds at our fingertips,
Miss Malone,” the Bailiwick said. “There were few options available to the King
and Queen in order to avoid human persecution and, given no human can cross into
the afterworld, asylum in Faeland was the logical recourse.” He sounded
matter-of-fact. “This is our world as well, and we have access to our afterlife
just as you have with yours, theoretically speaking, although there is no magic
there save that of the word of the King and Queen.”

Joy squeezed the back of the chair like a shield between them
as she digested the news. “Your King and Queen escaped this world with the
majority of your people and took them to
Heaven
?”
Her voice broke a little on the sacrilegious notion. “You mean to say there's a
doorway to the Folk's afterlife
inside your body
?”
Her thoughts were jumbled and fractured, cracking against themselves.
“But...they're in
Heaven
! Why would they ever come
back here?”

The Bailiwick looked disappointed. “We gave our word to protect
this world's magic and honor the bonds to those whom we owed allegiance,” he
said. “We, as a people, shall always keep our word and our integrity as well as
the magic of this world intact. Always.”

This was clearly an absolute. Joy nodded dumbly. The breath
lodged in her chest came out with a whoosh. “Well...” Her sentence dissolved
into silence. She tried again. “Wow.”

“Indeed,” Graus Claude said. “So you understand the gravity of
our predicament and Master Ink's conundrum?”

Joy tried to gather the threads together, but the pattern still
eluded her. “Um, no.” She loosened her death grip from the chair back. “I mean,
I get that I probably shouldn't have stepped into Faeland, but I have no idea
why Ink would be more freaked out than I was after what happened, and what any
of that has to do with wild Elementals...”

The Bailiwick rested his head in two of his hands, the other
two smoothing the edges of the towels with exaggerated calm. “Miss Malone, it is
difficult to comprehend how you can be so adept at maneuvering through many of
our subtlest societal niceties and yet be so grossly inept at grasping our most
obvious taboos. Have you failed to understand anything I have labored to teach
you?” He lifted his head and spoke through shark's teeth. “You stepped into the
Folk's most sacred territory and it physically
rejected
you. The King and Queen themselves named you the Destroyer
of Worlds.” He struggled to keep his composure, his face flushing olive gray
with the effort. “I suspect that you, Joy Malone, are descended from
Elementals—the sworn enemy of all the peoples of our world.”

She stared at him, dumbstruck.

“But—no,” Joy said slowly. “I'm one of the Folk. You said so
yourself!”

“Yes, well, while it is true that you were obviously not
entirely human, what other conclusion could I have drawn?” Graus Claude said in
his defense. “The Elementals were purged from this world aeons ago, and no one
would have suspected they would interbreed with humans. They quite despised your
lot, save as base amusement.” He snorted. “If you think the Folk can be cruel,
you cannot fathom the depths of the Elementals' depravity.” One low eye ridge
quirked. “Then again, perhaps we can.” He shook his shoulders as if ridding them
of a chill. “If your lineage originates from one of the most primal sources of
magic...it might explain much.” He leaned back on his haunches. His tone grew
professorial. “It would account for your heritage going unremarked in our
annals, as well as your latent magics coming to bear once you came in contact
with the Twixt. It might also explain the Sight itself—the ability to see those
in the Twixt would be an advantageous inherent defense against the Folk. That
might also cause your proto-
signatura
to be
misshapen or malformed since an Elemental would never accept the yoke of the
rules that bind us...” His eyes grew wide. “By the Swells, an Elemental taking
on a True Name, bound by oath to the King and Queen?” He gaped. “It's unheard
of!”

“So I
am
one of the Folk,” Joy
said. “I swore my oath and sacrificed my armor for my True Name. Our word binds
us to the rules, right? I am one of you!”

“Yes! No. That is—no!” Graus Claude squeezed his hands into
fists. “It is imposs—” But he couldn't finish the sentence, because he knew it
wasn't true. He gave a long-suffering sigh that ended in an almost smile.
Almost. “You never cease to amaze me, Miss Malone.” He adjusted himself on the
mattress. “However, this latest riddle is not a passing game for intellects—it
is likely to get you killed.”

“Why?” Joy said. “What did I do?” She refrained from adding,
now?

The Bailiwick stretched his spine, eliciting deep pops and
cracks. He exhaled tightly. “It is not what you did or did not do,” he said. “It
is your
ancestry
. It is what you
are
. The very nature of your being flies in the face
of the Accords, the Edicts and the rules that shaped our world. No wonder that
the King and Queen did not come with you!” he murmured. “The Elementals
represent our baser instincts, the primordial chaos from which we evolved, and
yet we needed to be rid of them in order to leave that world of anarchy and
destruction behind, to forge a new path within the human world, one of culture
and compromise and a commitment to live in peace. The Elementals are no more...”
Graus Claude gestured toward her with a genteel dance of many hands.
“Theoretically speaking.”

Joy crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “That means
you could be wrong, theoretically speaking.”

“Indeed,” Graus Claude agreed. “And yet here you are, against
all odds and precedence, cloaked in half humanity and bearing a True Name.” He
shook his head ruefully. “Whatever the truth of it, I can feel My Lady's hands
upon both our backs.” The Bailiwick straightened both pairs of shoulders. He was
known as Fortune's Favorite—his auspice was luck. “May we be guided toward the
light that presages a new dawn and not, as I fear, an oncoming train.”

He threaded his hands together and cleared his throat. “Now
then, let us suppose Master Ink is correct and that you are a descendant of
Elementals. Perhaps all those with the Sight could, in fact, trace their lineage
back to those primal creatures. Well, what then? It might explain our
long-standing traditions to eliminate those with the Sight, if not out of fear
of human interference, then out of an instinctual sense of self-preservation
against our ancient foes. Then, also, such a rationale might explain why those
such as Sol Leander would not lay claim on those with the Sight who had been
victims of an unprovoked attack, regardless of its outcome. He might not be
compelled to claim them nor acknowledge their qualification.” He raised his
chin. “Hmm. Interesting. For no one would claim an Elemental under their
auspice—they would have to stand and protect them under their Name.” He snorted.
“Ridiculous! Preposterous! No one would agree to give succor under our laws to
those who refuse to obey them.” He eyed her again sharply. “Grimson would be
quite put out.”

Joy rubbed her shoulder, the spot where she'd been marked.
“I've never met him.” Inq had marked Joy as a Scribe in Grimson's stead
when she'd erased the Red Knight out of existence.

“Pray you never do,” Graus Claude said. “He is a humorless sort
behind that black cowl and scythe.”

Joy wondered if the Bailiwick was joking. “So...that disproves
it, right?” she said. “Grimson would never have claimed me if I were an
Elemental.”

Graus Claude sniffed. “I would never presume to guess another's
motives, but perhaps that is why Grimson accepted this as his auspice, marking
those who murder one of the Twixt, for the Elementals would have surely
qualified and the mark might have served as a warning to the Folk. A Grimson's
mark does not so much brand those who are under his protection as those who are
considered criminal. Interesting.”

“Fantastic,” Joy said, getting up from the chair. She wrung her
fingers around a twist of leotard. “Well, I don't see why it matters what type
of Folk I'm descended from or what any of that has to do with Ink.”

“The Elementals are not Folk, Miss Malone,” Graus Claude said
patiently. “They are two entirely different things—”

She stopped her pacing. “How?”

The Bailiwick's eyes darkened from icy blue to gray. “They were
barely more than animals, Miss Malone. Lawless, ruthless creatures who lived to
destroy.”

Joy thought about their escape from the rampaging mobs of
costumed Folk Under the Hill. “Doesn't sound so different to me.”

“Miss Malone—”

Joy crossed her arms. “Well, that doesn't make them a different
species.”

“Neither does the color of skin, but human history has long
claimed otherwise,” he said with deep rebuke. “But if you are indeed an
Elemental changeling, then the change must be stopped.”

“It can be
stopped
?” Joy said
incredulously. “But that's what I've been
trying
to
do since you first told me about being a changeling! You said it couldn't be
done!”

“Stymied, then. Repressed.” Graus Claude's gaze slid aside.
“You must
not
be permitted to become an
Elemental!”

Joy was way ahead of him. She had planned to rescue the
princess, return the King and Queen and then ask them for a boon as
reward—namely to stop the change and stay human or, at least, half human. Being
an immortal enemy of the Twixt made that less likely. She bit back her own
bubbling anxiety. “Okay. How?”

“I am not certain,” he said. “Although I know it can be done.”
He slapped his hands against his knees in a chord of finality. “I will need
access to my not-inconsiderable resources before I can sufficiently answer that
question.” He coughed politely into one fist. “And, first, we will need some
confirmation of fact.”

“What does that mean?” Joy asked.

“It means—” Graus Claude sighed as if loathe to admit defeat
“—that such mysteries lie beyond my ken and that you will have to seek out
answers from one who presides over the appropriate domain. You are a claimant,
after all, fairly acknowledged, whose favor was undeniably witnessed by hundreds
of Folk at the gala—”

Joy knew he was babbling. “Graus Claude?”

“Maia,” he said abruptly. “You must go ask Maia.”

“Maia? The Council's High Earth Seat? The head of the Court of
Earth? The one who's in a private game of one-upmanship with you?” Joy pressed
down on each of her fingers. “The one who claimed me at the Naming? The one
whose jeweled hair comb I destroyed?
That
Maia?” she
squeaked. “She'll kill me!”

“Not if you manage to swear her to the oath to which Master Ink
bound me,” the Bailiwick muttered. “You are still of Earth, acknowledged and
witnessed, and therefore she should abide by House rules and grant you
sanctuary. She knows more about Elementals than I, being one of the original
members of the King and Queen's Council.” He straightened his spine and glanced
around the room. “The trick will be in getting you there.”

Joy fidgeted. While she did not like the idea of seeking out
Maia, who would no doubt be seeking
her
along with
the Head of the Council, the dragon, Bùxiŭ de
Zhēnzhū, she liked the idea of leaving the warded condo even less.
“Don't you think I should have Ink come with me?”

“No,” Graus Claude said flatly. “As far as Master Ink is
concerned, you are to remain here, with me, under his own protections until we
can find a solution to your...predicament.” The Bailiwick fiddled with his
buttons as he considered the rest of the room. “You know that the primary role
of the Scribes is to be a buffer between the Folk and any undue risk, namely
humans, who—at the time of their making—represented the greatest threat to our
peoples' safety. But it was understood that the Scribes were to safeguard us
against
all
enemies, including our first enemy,
those of the Wild. It was written into his being, his body, blood and blades.”
Graus Claude turned his great head to one side. “I imagine that Master Ink is
struggling with a conflagration of duty and emotion, of instinct and the heart.”
He caught her expression and dropped his voice. “Have pity, Miss Malone. Master
Ink had enough control to withhold his suspicions long enough to place you here,
in my keeping, but I fear he cannot disobey his basic function—to protect those
in the Twixt, which, in this case, might again include the likes of you.” Joy
hugged herself miserably. The great frog attempted to soothe her distress. “He
had the strength to resist blinding you at first Sight, did he not? By his own
assertion, he has chosen to interpret his wards as both protecting you from the
Twixt as well as protecting the Twixt from you until we can find an
interpretation that will suit the rules enough to forgo his having to kill
you.”