39: DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
It was as if Tristan had fallen down a rabbit hole into a totally different world. His sisters had taken him to Lain’s house on Observatory Hill. They fed him Mickey Mouse sugar cookies and put him to bed in a room with the changeling’s name literally written all over it. (What was this obsession of marking things in crayon? Judging by the wobbly child printing on the most unlikely of places, she had settled on her nickname early.)
There were no weapons in the bedroom, nor anything that could be made into one. Perhaps because it was used to house an inventive child, such things had been long stripped out. He considered trying to sneak out but the room also seemed tactically set up to make that difficult, if not impossible. What kind of wild monkey had his niece been as a child?
He kept his phone hidden but close at hand, set to vibrate. He tried out excuses to tell Lucien, trying to decide which one would be safest for both sides of his family. Near midnight, Lucien called.
“Yes?” Tristan whispered into the phone.
“Are you safe?” Lucien asked quietly.
Lucien didn’t know that Tristan was with Lain and Esme if he was asking that.
“Yes.” Tristan braced himself for Lucien asking where he was and why he wasn’t with Adele. He still didn’t have a good excuse as to why he left Mount Washington that didn’t involve Lain and Esme. Times like this, it was best to wait for a question instead of offering up information.
“The key in your bag is to a business office on Fifth Avenue Place,” Lucien said. “Hyde Enterprises. Ninth floor. The other offices on that floor are short-term leases—you should be able to come and go unquestioned. You’ll find clothes, food, and money there.”
Tristan knew that Lucien had many safe houses scattered around Pittsburgh. The building on the corner of Liberty and Fifth Avenues downtown was centrally located. His coming and going probably would attract less attention than some suburban house.
“Okay,” Tristan whispered, still giving nothing away.
“Stay safe,” Lucien said and hung up without asking anything more.
Tristan played the short conversation over and over in his head. Why hadn’t Lucien asked about Adele? What had happened when Lucien got to WESA? All the tengu had left the radio station, so Tristan had assumed that Boo had also left. Why hadn’t Lucien asked more about her? Had he captured her? Or had something else happened that put her on the backburner—if such a thing was possible…
The sudden lack of focus and information made him feel like he was freefalling.
My mother is dead. Bethany is dead.
It was a deep, dark rabbit hole.
* * *
Lain had taken charge of the baby chicken, keeping it warm, dry, and fed. It was cheeping in the corner of the kitchen as his sisters made him bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Esme arranged them into a smile on his plate before putting it before him.
“I am not a child anymore,” he complained as she added whipped cream for “hair” on the pancake face.
“Yes, you are.” Esme settled into the seat across from him and added whipped cream with gusto to her pancake. “We might have missed all the clues when we were younger but we know better now. You are a half-elf—or maybe more like seven-tenths elf.”
They believed the old female’s claim of their mother being part elf.
“I’m not a child-child,” Tristan stated firmly while indicating the food art. Did he even enjoy this when he was five or ten? Maybe he did. It was so long ago. His memories of before his father took over his education were dim.
Lain eyed his plate and gave their sister a disappointed look. “He’s right about that.”
Lain sat down beside Tristan. She only had a mini-pancake on her plate and one egg. She was eating like an old lady concerned about her weight. It bothered him to see even more evidence of her age.
Esme shoveled into her breakfast with gusto. “He needs to relearn the joy of being a child. That freedom of not worrying about whether you remembered to pay the electric bill, or if you have clean underwear, or the leftovers in the fridge will give you food poisoning.”
He flinched as he remembered the first time he ended up on the bathroom floor, feeling like he was about to die and having no idea why. No one had warned him that food could go bad. There was no one there to tell him to drink fluids to keep from getting dangerously dehydrated, nor to explain that electrolytes were nearly as important as water. He was afraid to bother anyone when it started and by the time that he was full-blown sick, he was too weak to find his phone and call for help. He thought he was going to die in that bathroom. The worst thing about it was that he didn’t make the connection between the bad food and being sick the first time. He suffered through a second bout before he realized why.
“Why are you doing this?” Tristan asked.
“Because you’re our baby brother,” Lain said.
He made a noise and picked up his fork to smear the whip cream across his pancake to destroy the impression of a face. “I’m my father’s son.”
Esme made a rude noise, and said something with her mouth full that he couldn’t translate. It was probably obscene by the way Lain frowned at her.
“Our mother loved children,” Lain said. “Two was not enough to fill her heart. She wanted more. She would have gone to a sperm bank if your father hadn’t cooperated. She glowed through her pregnancy and was radiant when she could finally hold you in her arms. You were always full of smiles when you saw us. Our names were your first words. We helped you take your first steps. How could we not love you?”
He’d felt that way with his secret baby sisters. They would toddle toward him, calling, “Tris! Tris!” They would demand hugs and attention, desperate for any adult affection.
If only he’d told their mother about them. She would have loved his baby sisters. She might have been able to save Britany. Their mother, though, hadn’t been able to keep herself and his older sisters safe from his father. Heaven’s Blessing had maneuvered her into a marriage that was cold and loveless. She might not have been able to do anything to save the Eyes from his father’s plans. But maybe she could have. If she had, she wouldn’t have died completely alone.
“We know about Chloe,” Lain said gently as she took a piece of jewelry out of her pocket and put it on the table. “Since she had Mother’s necklace, we’re assuming that you boys know—knew about her.”
Oh, poor, proud Chloe.
“I gave the necklace to Chloe before she left Earth,” Tristan admitted. It had been the last time he’d seen Chloe. “Mother never wore that piece so I didn’t think she’d miss it. Chloe was fixated on her. I…I thought it was because she wanted to meet Mother. But after I came to Pittsburgh…it seems like the girls were jealous of how much Mother meant to me and Lucien.”
It might have been why the Eyes thought Boo was dangerous even from the beginning. Boo had the nearly white-blond hair that their mother had.
“Girls?” Esme latched onto his slip. “Exactly how many children did your father steal from her?”
“All of them—even you, in the end,” Tristan said.
“Tristan.” Lain sounded like their mother in her firm and disappointed tone.
Ancient history should be safe enough to confess to.
“There had been five at one time,” Tristan reluctantly started. “Father didn’t create them immediately after the eggs being harvested. He planned to wait until Mother was older and less able to carry out her duties. All of Father’s plans changed when the hyper-phase gate project fell into our laps. He wanted his own intanyai seyosa to deal with Pure Radiance and the rest of her caste. He hired surrogate mothers, all in New Jersey.”
Esme snorted. “New Jersey. Thick with thieves.”
“Mother must have realized at some level that someone in New Jersey had the girls,” Lain murmured. “It would explain why she suddenly hated the state so much. I thought it was dementia setting in early.”
“It took decades for everything to come together on the gate, especially after Dufae was killed. The girls were just graduating from high school when the Chinese turned the gate on for the first time,” Tristan said. “Yves investigated Pittsburgh and set up contacts to smuggle Lucien and the girls into Pittsburgh.”
“Good God!” Lain whispered. “Lucien looked like he was a grade school student when he was eighteen. You could still pass as a middle school student and you’re…what, forty? Your father has to be insane, sending a child into a war zone.”
“He needed people he could trust…” Tristan started to defend his father out of habit.
“You mean he wanted disposable tools,” Esme said. “If he valued his children, you wouldn’t have been running around in the middle of the night with a good chance of being killed.”
“I was perfectly fine,” Tristan said.
“You were not!” Esme snapped. “How do you think we found you? We had been talking about you and Lucien all day and I got a sudden feeling that you were in imminent danger.”
Tristan deflected the statement with a question. “Why were you talking about us?”
“Tinker came to see us about her siblings.”
The female elf claimed that the twins were on Elfhome. Charging into danger even as we speak.
“Are they okay? Louise and Jillian? There was this crazy elf who said they were in some kind of trouble.”
Lain and Esme exchanged worried looks.
“I only had one dream of the children,” Esme said. “They were all playing in a sandbox but Tinker’s sisters kept taking all her toys. It seemed harmless.”
“You should go check on them,” Lain said. “I’ll stay here with Tristan.”
“The female elf also said I need to give the chick to Tinker with a message,” Tristan said quickly, trying to squash the idea of him being left behind. If the twins were in trouble, he wanted to know and be able to do something.
“I can take the chick with me,” Esme said.
“She said it had to be me,” Tristan said. “It’s all intanyai seyosa nonsense. The messenger might be the important part.”
Esme growled with frustration and exchanged looks with Lain.
“We’ll all go,” Lain said.
* * *
Tristan had spent the last few weeks hidden away in the forest of Elfhome. Father had had him smuggled in and dropped at the edge of the city and then ferried by boat to Lucien’s camp downriver. Tristan had missed all the most famous landmarks, from the glass castle EIA offices to the Cathedral of Learning, to the Rim in Oakland with human businesses on one side of the street and the fortified enclaves of the elves on the other.
Said Rim was swamped with royal troops who should have been trapped deep within the forest and wiped out. Had their trap utterly failed?
Esme had driven Lain’s SUV to the Rim. He had thought it was because Lain was crippled but instead it was because their vehicle had been stopped multiple times by Wind Clan laiden who recognized Esme as their domi’s mother and waved her through.
Esme paused in front of one enclave but then continued down the street until they got to a large brick building that looked like a century-old high school.
“Makes sense,” Lain said mysteriously. “Go around to the back gate.”
“Yeah, we’re not getting in the front door,” Esme added.
Esme made her way to a narrow back alley and parked in front of an ironwood gate. There was a spyhole slot at elf eye-level, which put it nearly a foot over Tristan’s head.
“Hello?” Lain knocked on the gate.
The spyhole slot opened. For a moment there seemed to be no one there and then a boy jumped up to glance through the hole before dropping back to the ground.
“Hi, Lain,” the boy called from the other side. “Are you looking for Oilcan? He’s not here right now.”
“I’m here for Tinker, Blue Sky,” Lain said. “It’s important to talk to her.”
“I think she might still be here,” Blue Sky called back.
There was a rattle of locks and the gate swung open to let them in. The area had been a small parking lot at one point with basketball and tennis courts on either side. The space had been converted into a barnyard with ramshackle animal pens.
Blue Sky was a male half-elf in blue jeans and a T-shirt that read TEAM BIG SKY. If the boy recognized Lain on sight, then he might be a friend of the changeling. Blue Sky was with a young, dusky-skinned female elf. Tristan hadn’t realized that there were any Stone Clan children in Pittsburgh. Had she come with the Harbingers? Most confusing of all, there was a little lesser blood oni male with them. The three children had been in the middle of feeding a flock of six chicks that looked like slightly older models of the one in his hand, a pair of indi, a piglet, and an elfhound puppy.
One or more of the children obviously lived at the high school, which been turned into an enclave.
There was so much that Lucien hadn’t told Tristan.
Blue Sky eyed Tristan with suspicion. He opened his mouth to ask questions. “Who is—”
“Blue!” the little female cried out and then shouted out in Elvish, “Shut the gate! Shut the gate! Quee!”
The piglet had escaped out of its badly made pen and was heading for the open gate.
Lain took advantage of the distraction to head them into the high school. There were several doors into the back of the building. They took a set of double doors that led into a wide shadowy hallway that reminded Tristan of the schools he had attended in the past. To the left were kitchens leaking out the clatter of dishes, sounds of running water, laughter, and the smells of breakfast.
The hallway led to the front foyer with doors leading to cafeteria, library, gym. A grand staircase headed upward to floors above. At the foot of the steps was a male Wind Clan sekasha who nodded to Lain and Esme.
“Mother. Mother’s sister,” the male said in Elvish, identifying the two women in their relationship to Tinker. “Domi is upstairs with Grandfather. Second floor. Last door on the right.”
“Thank you, Little Egret,” Lain said.
The place was thick with sekasha. Tristan counted over a dozen as they walked up to the second floor and down the hall to the last room on the floor. Most of them were Stone Clan. Obviously any attacker would have to go through all the warriors to get to their domana. Tristan hadn’t considered how thin his protection was. On Earth, children could meander into the most restricted areas with simple lies like “I was curious” and “I’m lost” and be safe from harm. His age would not protect him here if his lineage came out. At least, that’s what his father always claimed. His sisters marched up to Forge’s room as if there was nothing to fear.
And there she was—an older version of the twins. She wore a Pitt baseball jersey and short shorts and a pair of boots, looking extremely human if you missed the pointed ears and almond eyes.
She glanced up from the papers covering the table and winced. “Oh gods, now what?”
“Has anyone checked on my other children recently?” Esme asked.
“Now you ask!” Tinker growled softly. “We could have used you last night. They were behind the enemy front line, duking it out with horrors and such. I sent Oilcan to go fetch them. You could have taken them home with you so that they couldn’t trip me up this morning. The damage is done, now, everything is over except the crying.”
“Are they okay?” Lain asked.
“They’re fine!” Tinker snapped. “But, thanks to them, we’re totally screwed!”
“Ah,” Esme said. “So they did they take your toys?”
“Yes!” Tinker snapped. “They did! Lain, I think I need to give you some kind of wonderful present for putting up with me for eighteen years. One day in and I’m ready to drown them all.”
“But they’re okay?” Lain asked again.
Tinker waved her hand over her head. “They’re upstairs printing off copies of their shield spell for Stormsong to deliver to Windwolf.”
She paused to squint at Tristan. She pointed at him. “Is this…is this who I think it is?”
Tristan froze as fear spiked through him. He resisted the urge to look at the male sekasha standing behind Tinker. Did the male speak English? What did Tinker and her people know about him? Did they know who his father was? Surely not. Lain and Esme hadn’t realized that he and Lucien were half-elves. While his sisters knew now that his father was an elf, they didn’t know that he was Emperor Heaven’s Blessing. Nor did his sisters know that Lucien was the warlord Yutakajodo.
He took a deep breath and calmed himself with the knowledge that Tinker probably only thought of him as Lain’s little brother.
“Yes, this is Tristan.” Lain skipped past the introduction to get to why they were there. “He had a conversation with Tooloo last night—or at least we think it was Tooloo. ‘Crazy old female elf spouting a mix of secrets and illogical comments’ doesn’t describe many other people.”
“What did she say this time?” Tinker asked.
Tristan held out the baby chick. “She told me to give this to you. She said to tell you to remember your chess moves. It will be important.”
Tinker growled in frustration as she took delivery of the chick. She inspected it closely, looking under its stubby wings and at its feet. She found nothing unusual about the chick. “Anything else?”
Tristan considered the conversation. It had been mostly about his dead family members. He didn’t want to share any of that. “No.”
Tinker visibly struggled not to scream out loud. She handed the chick to the male sekasha behind her, distracting him. “You should really get Tristan out of here before Stormsong comes back. I’m not sure if any of the others realize all the connection points. She was there for the whole half-sister conversation and she’s still pissed at Esme about the dream stuff.”
Tristan struggled to look innocent. Half sister? Tinker suspected that he was in league with Chloe? Certainly it seemed as if the sekasha would make that assumption.
“Noted,” Lain said.
Esme was looking upward as if she had X-ray eyes to see through the ceiling to the floor above. “She’s already headed downstairs. I would like to go up and meet my daughters.”
Tinker blew a raspberry. “Go. Meet them. See if you can talk them into living with you. Whatever. I asked Oilcan to be their guardian but now that I’ve met them, I don’t think he’s going to be able to ride herd on them. Maybe the three of you have some hope.”
* * *
Tristan had been surprised that Tinker knew exactly who he was and what he might be, yet still kept him from harm. Even more surprising and somewhat alarming was that she was going to let him meet with the twins. Surely she should be more protective of her little sisters! Children should be protected. Then again, he knew how hard it was for a child to raise younger siblings.
It reminded him that despite all the hateful things that the Eyes had said of Tinker, she was just eighteen and could be considered still a child. Certainly, she was half the age or more of the Eyes.
The third floor was much quieter. Doors stood open to the big classrooms done up as huge bedrooms. More Stone Clan children shifted pieces of furniture around as if the entire building had just taken delivery of several truckloads of bedroom suites. The young elves were laughing and talking in excited happy tones. It was a serene, bountiful feeling.
In the last room on the hallway, there was a mountain of furniture still stacked up, awaiting deconstruction. With the exception of a light scattering of computer equipment, printers, and luggage mules, there was no sign of the twins or anyone attempting to help them unpack from the disorganized mess.
Part of him was deeply annoyed that his mother’s beloved granddaughters were being treated this way. Their older sister was angry with them, their cousin was missing in action, and none of the elves were helping them.
“Hello?” Esme said, walking into the room as Lain and Tristan paused at the door. “Girls? You don’t know me but I’m—”
“Esme!” Louise cried from within the mountain.
“Esme!” Jillian echoed.
And then a bunch of squeaky voices joined in.
A wave of bodies suddenly came out of the furniture mountain: two child-sized, eleven the size of house cats but covered in scales, and four mice. The girls grabbed hold of Esme, hugging her while talking excitedly. The lizards circled Esme, then Lain and then Tristan to grab hold of their legs and stare up at them, saying, “Mine? Mine?”
One suddenly appeared on Tristan’s shoulder. It grabbed his cheeks and stretched them out. “Mine? No. All Clarity! Not mine!”
“Mine?” one of the other lizards cried in surprised happiness. It swarmed up Tristan to perch on his other shoulder even as the other lizard suddenly disappeared as if it teleported elsewhere. “Ah, yes, all me! Mine!”
Surely this was what Alice felt when she landed in Wonderland.