The Solstice Cup (12 page)

“Whatever I have to do, I'll do it,” said Mackenzie.

Maigret nodded at the pile of baskets across the room. “I am tolerated in the world below because I make myself useful here. I catch eels and fish for the banquet tables. I gather eggs from the marsh nests in season.” Her gaze moved to the crude wooden frame behind Finian, in the opposite corner. “I also weave on that loom when I am asked. There are others on the island who weave, some of the solstice-bound, but my silks are finer than anyone else's. The fair folk compete for my handiwork.”

“You'd never know it by the rags Maigret wears herself, would you?” Finian said wryly, his arms crossed.

“I take nothing from the faerie, so they can take nothing from me,” Maigret said calmly. “Finian knows that. The question is, can you use a loom, lass?”

“I've never tried.”

The old woman clicked her tongue. “A pity, but I suppose I can teach you warp from weft. That won't be the worst of your challenges.”

“I have to weave something to free my sister?” Mackenzie asked, trying to follow the conversation.

“Aye, a mantle to throw over her shoulders during the Sealing Ceremony, three nights hence. You'll need to weave it out of special fibers. I can gather grasses from the edges in the morning.” Maigret squinted at Mackenzie's dress. “Do you still have the garments you were wearing when you arrived?”

“I think so,” said Mackenzie. She blushed. “We hid them behind some rocks on the shore so we wouldn't have to come back here.”

“Good. You'll need fibers from your sister's clothing to return her to herself, and fibers from your own garments to bind your sister to you until you're both safely away. There's one more thing…” The old woman peered at Mackenzie's anxious face and left her sentence unfinished. “But you have enough to think about for now. That will get you started.”

She motioned for Mackenzie to stand up. “Best be on your way back to the island. You can tear a few pieces from your clothing when you reach the shore. Give them to Finian for safekeeping until he brings you back tomorrow night.”

Mackenzie got up reluctantly. “Do I have to go back tonight? I can't stay here with you?”

“No, lass, you can't stay here.” Maigret shook her head. “Nuala would turn the island upside down if you disappeared now. 'Twould only be a matter of time before someone came looking for you here. You must be in your room when she checks on you in the morning.”

“All right.” Mackenzie swallowed. “It's just that Nuala is still trying to make me take the solstice cup. It's hard to say no, and I think she suspects about the berries.”

“Then you must pretend to drink from the cup the next time she offers it to you.”

“But in the morning she'll know I faked it,” said Mackenzie. “If she doesn't figure it out right away.”

“I have a remedy for that,” said the old woman. She was already across the room, rummaging in a basket. “Take a pinch of the herbs I'm about to give you, sprinkled in a cup of water, just before you go to sleep. You'll wake with a fever. Not high enough to do harm—just high enough to fool Nuala. It will pass after a few hours.”

“This will really work?” Mackenzie asked as Maigret placed a small pouch in her hands.

“Aye, it will,” said Maigret. “Be brave, lass. You're not alone.” She squeezed Mackenzie's arm and turned to Finian. “She's in your care again until tomorrow night. Mind that she doesn't come to any harm.”

“I don't suppose you have any idea the risk the old woman is taking, helping you and your sister,” Finian said to Mackenzie as he rowed them back to land. “Faeries like Nuala aren't pleasant when they're crossed.”

Mackenzie's hands were clenched in her lap. She kept her eyes fixed on the dark shoreline. “So why does Maigret do it then? Who is she?”

“She
was
a lass just like you, lured down here by one of Nuala's kind many years ago with a bit of faery gold. There was no one to warn her otherwise, so she drank from the cup and had to serve a faery mistress for seven years. She was freed at the end of that time, but when she returned to the world above, everything had changed. Seven years in the land below was more than seventy in the world above. The seasons turn at different speeds above and below. Except at the solstices, when the two worlds brush against each other.”

Something broke the surface of the water a few yards away. Mackenzie tensed.

“Just a fish,” said the piper, still rowing.

“What did Maigret do?” Mackenzie asked, breathing again.

“There was naught for her in the world above. She was a stranger there. Everyone she loved had passed. So she found her way back down to this world.”

Mackenzie waited as Finian steered the boat next to the low wharf. He tied the line around a post and climbed out.

“But why?” she asked when he offered his hand. “Why come back here?”

Finian grunted. “Isn't it obvious? To save others from the same fate.”

“Like me and my sister,” said Mackenzie.

“Aye,” said Finian. “Lassies, laddies—she's got a soft place in her heart for all of you. Soft place in her head, more like. Of course, she's not the only one scouring the edges for stray bairns at this time of year. 'Tis a race every time to see if she can hide one or two. 'Tis a shame some of you don't have the sense to stay hidden,” he added darkly.

Mackenzie followed the piper from the wharf onto the shore. “What about you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. “You're not here to save anyone, are you? I mean, it's your music that puts people into a trance so they'll drink from the cup.”

Finian stopped abruptly, his arms stiff at his side. Even in the dark, Mackenzie could see the lines of his face hardening. “I don't lure anyone here. I don't lift the cup to anyone's lips.”

“I-I'm sorry,” Mackenzie said after a moment.

The two baskets of clothing were still in the recess where Mackenzie and her sister had hidden them. “Do you have a knife I can borrow?” Mackenzie asked.

“Of course.” Finian produced a small knife from a sheath under his cloak and handed it to her. “Sometimes a good blade is the only thing a Pooka understands.”

“Thanks.” Mackenzie pulled two pairs of jeans and two sweaters from the baskets. She cut a few inches of fabric from the hems of the jeans and cut off half an arm from each sweater. “I hope this is enough,” she said as she handed the pieces to Finian, who tucked them away in a pouch. She stuffed what was left of the clothing back into the baskets and hid them again.

“Let's get moving,” said the piper. “The sky is getting lighter. Day will be breaking shortly.”

Breanne was still unresponsive when Mackenzie returned to their room. Mackenzie sat down beside her sister and took her hand. “Can you hear me, Breanne?”

When she didn't answer, Mackenzie went on anyway. “I went to see Maigret—remember the old woman who found us in the marsh? She's helping us. We're going to break you free from this spell. You just have to hang on,” Mackenzie whispered, as much to herself as her sister. “Everything is going to be all right, I promise.”

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

M
ackenzie's eyes fluttered a few times and then flew open as they registered the figure standing beside the bed.

“I've disturbed you,” said Nuala. “And you were sleeping so soundly.”

“I-I was awake most of the night. Watching my sister,” Mackenzie added quickly.

Nuala tilted her head toward Breanne. “I told you to stop worrying about her. Look at the peaceful expression on her face. The fever is almost gone. She'll be awake soon.”

Mackenzie nodded nervously. She didn't meet the faery's eyes. “That's good, I guess.”

“Of course it is. But it was you I came to see,” the faery said, pulling back the blankets that covered Mackenzie's body. “There's a
fidchell
tournament today, and I need an extra player.”

“But I don't even know what
fidchell
is.”

“I'll teach you,” said the faery.

“But Breanne—” Mackenzie turned to look at her sister.

“No excuses this time,” said Nuala, crossing her slender arms. “I need a player, and you need a diversion. Let's get you dressed quickly.”

Nuala explained the rules of
fidchell
as they traveled to the surface of the mound, but they didn't make much sense to Mackenzie in her sleep-deprived state. She was given a white headdress in the shape of a dove's head as soon as they reached the area where the tournament was being held. Nuala led her into position on a circular terrace. There were at least two dozen other humans wearing dove headdresses on the terrace, and the same number with the black beaks and feathers of ravens. Except for Mackenzie, they all shared the blank faces of the solstice-bound.

The object of the white team, as much as Mackenzie understood it, was to form a continuous line from a marker at the center of the terrace out to the last of seven concentric circles formed by paving stones. The object of the black team was to make this impossible. It didn't take Mackenzie long to figure out that the humans weren't really players but game pieces on a giant board. Their role was to remain perfectly still until commanded to move. It was the faeries strolling around the terrace who strategized and made decisions.

The game moved slowly from the beginning, and the intervals between moves grew longer as it progressed. It might have enthralled the faeries playing the game, but it was agony for Mackenzie. She had to dig her nails into her palms to prevent herself from falling asleep on her feet. In the end, even that wasn't enough.

Mackenzie's eyes flew open. Something hard had rapped against her wrist. “I'm sorry!” she said quickly.

“I
said
, ‘Advance!'” said Nuala, her silver eyes flashing angrily.

Mackenzie scurried clockwise to the next space in the circle.

“Not there,
there
,” said Nuala. She pointed the slender rod in her hand to another space, to the right of where Mackenzie had been standing.

“I'm sorry,” Mackenzie repeated, her face going crimson. She stumbled on a loose paving stone on her way to the new position and had to pick herself up.

Nuala glared at Mackenzie as two of the faeries on the other team began to laugh behind their hands. She called out something in her own language, and one of the white players who'd been “captured” earlier and removed from the board came to take Mackenzie's place.

“Go. Go!” said Nuala, shooing Mackenzie and the attendant who'd come up beside her away. “Get some sleep before the banquet. You're useless to me like this.”

Nuala was in a better mood when she swept into Mackenzie's room several hours later. “Wake up—it's time to get ready! Look what I brought for you this evening. Do you see how it catches the light? You won't find silk like
this
anywhere in your world.”