Page 12 of The Fae Queen's Captive
“Yes,” the man says. “And no. And yes. As I said before, it is complicated.”
I can hear music as we get closer to the doors, smell the inviting scent of roasted meat and sweet, flaky things.
“Now,” the man says, stopping us and taking both my hands. “There is much that I cannot say because of the vows I made long ago. But three things I am not forbidden from telling you, so please heed them well.”
I’m feeling a little disoriented from the wholethis is real,fairies don’t sweat murder, this man is four hundred years oldspiel, but I try to make my best heeding face. It must work, because he continues. “Firstly, words have an effect here that they do not in our world. And that is not a figurative statement—in Elphame, speech can shape the earth, it can summon destinies. For the people born here, language is different. Vows can only be broken with great pain, if at all, and lies can never be told.”
“Okay, okay, no lying,” I say, and even though theokays are in English, the man must get my meaning, because he gently shakes my hand.
“You are not listening. It is not that fairies should not tell lies, it is that theycannottell them. Everything they speak, they must believe to be true. You are freed of that, being mortal and with mortal salt still in your blood, but I would still not lie here, not unless you absolutely must. The folk detest it.”
“Mortal salt in my blood?” I ask. I know that’s probably not the most important part of what he just said, but it is the creepiest.
He nods, as if he wanted me to ask exactly that. “You carry in your body the memory of the place you came from, but that flesh-and-bone memory will fade over time, and when it does, you will be bound to the land here and you will not be able to return. Or if you return, that return must be bought at great cost. But consuming salt from our world will forestall this process. So long as you salt your food here with mortal salt, you will be able to return.”
“So I just need to find…salt from my world. Here.”
“There will be containers on every table filled with mortal salt,” my guide tells me. “A long-ago monarch of this court made a vow of salt hospitality at his table. But like most things in Elphame, you’ll find there are some important caveats. Salt is only present at meals, and it is onlyprovided, not offered. You must take it yourself, and you must be on guard against those who might convince you to eat food without it. A few bites, a few meals even, without it, and you might be safe.Mightbe. It is better not to risk it.”
I exhale. “So no lying, and eat mortal salt whenever I can. Is there anything else?”
The man casts a look at the antler-covered door, and a strange expression moves over his face. He opens his mouth again, abruptly swallows, and then clears his throat. “There is one other thing that I would have you hear. You should not feel safe.”
I think of the salt and thedeath is very much like life to them, and also of Morven’s littlemortal toys are more funcomment. “Feeling safe is not going to be a problem,” I mutter.
He shakes my hands again. “Please listen. The folk here love a bargain above all else; they loveprice. One thing for another. You might be able to buy some safety that way.”
“But the queen said I could leave Elphame in three days! Are you really suggesting that something bad could happen to me in three days?” I pause, listening to what I’ve just said. Thinking back to the queen’s words in the library.
Realizing the deal I struck might not be as solid as I thought.
“There is safety in being desired,” he says. “If you wish no harm to come to you until you leave Elphame, it’s something to consider.” He looks at the doors again, and he looks at them not as if he’s thinking of room on the other side of them, but as if he’s looking at the doors themselves. The antlers, I realize. He’s looking at the antlers. “The queen is the most powerful person here.”
“And so she is the safest?”
He gives me a sharp look. “I did not say that. You must never confuse power and safety, notever—and especially not in Elphame.”
He looks very much like he wants to shake me again—not just my hands this time but my entire body—until it’s clear that I understand.
“I won’t, I won’t, I promise,” I tell him, and he gives me a quick nod.
“We will go in now. You will be expected to sit by the queen. You would do well to please her—and don’t forget the salt.”
He takes a step toward the door, and I follow, but I pull on his hands. “Wait, you didn’t tell me your name!” I say. “I’m Janneth.”
He heaves a giant sigh, and considering how serious he is, it’s almost funny to see him look so put out by such a small request.
“You should know that names have power here, true and full names at least. Not over you, not yet, but for those of us without mortal salt in our blood.” He looks at me and seems to come to a decision. “Don Felipe de Moncada y Gralla,” he says in a low voice. “That is my full name.”
“Thank you, Felipe.”
He sighs again, like I truly tax him so, and presses his hand to the antlered door. It swings open in front of us.
It’s only as we step forward that my brain conjures up helpful information: I’ve heard Felipe’s name before. In the photocopied account that’s currently tossed haphazardly on a bed in a rural Scottish farmhouse. Felipe was—is—one of the missing companions of Hugo de Segovia. One of the companions who didn’t return from the castle of silver and mist.
Which means that if I had any doubt before, I can erase it now. This is the same place.
Hugo de Segovia and his fellow shipwrecked sailors somehow found their way into the heart of fairyland.
