The Unmaking (The Last Days of Tian Di, #2)(54)

“Oh, I’m so glad,” said the wizard. “What do we need a barrier for?”

Eliza ignored the question. There was too much to explain and he would forget it all soon in any case. “Something strong but simple will do, aye. It doesnay need to resist Magic, only physical forces like metal or fire. It needs to be large, though. We need to be able to cast it over a wide area, maybe multiple areas.”

“I see.”

“We can find the time when that spell was being written in the book,” said Eliza. “All the books could be restored that way! You said it felt powerful, aye. They remember what was in them once and this spell can reveal it.”

“And...”

“No time to explain anymore, Uri Mon Lil. We’ve probably only got twenty minutes left as it is. Take my hands.”





Chapter


13

The being holding a sword to her throat was the loveliest being that Nell had ever laid eyes on. He was tall and slim, dressed in silk clothes and a feathered cape and soft leather boots. His hair and skin had a kind of inner luminescence, so that he seemed made of light rather than flesh. In symmetry and charm and beauty his face was too perfect to describe. He stood on the ground before her and yet there was something in his stance that made her think of flight, as if in fact he was lighter than air on his feet, unutterably graceful even without moving. At the same time there was a weight and a stillness to him, a sense of something ancient and unmoving. She was so taken aback, so enchanted by his appearance, that she forgot to be afraid of the point of his sword, which nearly grazed her throat.

“You must be a Faery,” she breathed.

He spoke again in the strange, beautiful language. When she did not reply, he said, “What are you?”

Although he was not speaking Kallanese, the intent behind his words was unmistakable. It was a strange sensation to hear entirely unfamiliar words and yet have no doubt as to their meaning.

“Nell,” she stammered. “I mean, that’s...Why can I understand you? Can you understand me?”

The Faery looked scornful. “You know what I am. Do you not know I have the power to understand you and to make myself understood when I wish to be?”

She was going to reply when something hurtled into the Faery through the open ceiling and he was knocked to the ground. Whatever had flown into him changed shape as it knocked him back and became a half-hunter, growling and slavering, short swords grasped in hairy fists. The Faery managed an elegant kick and a twist, bucking the half-hunter off him so it staggered backwards. Before it had time to leap at him again, a golden net burst from the Faery’s hand and ensnared the beast. Nell watched all this too stunned to move, but as the Faery drew his sword and made for the half-hunter, she came to her senses.

“Stop!” she shouted, throwing herself against the Faery with all her might.

For a moment they all froze, the half-hunter in the net, the Faery with his sword poised for a killing blow and holding Nell with his other arm. Then the Faery stepped back, keeping Nell at arm’s length.

“I have never heard of a nell,” he said coldly. “Why does your half-hunter attack me?”

“You attacked me,” said Nell. “Or, at least, you pointed your sword at me in a not very friendly way. And Nell is my name, aye.”

She knelt and untangled the net around the half-hunter.

“Is that you, Charlie?”

It was. The half-hunter became a rather sheepish-looking Charlie. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled at her. Nell crushed him in a hug.

“I didnay expect you to get well so quickly!” she cried, looking him over for any signs of injury and finding none. “I wasnay sure you would get well at all. I thought you might be...lah, Charlie, you looked terrible, and there was something like smoke, but it wasnay smoke, just pouring out of you.” She found she was sobbing quite unexpectedly and wiped the tears hastily from her cheeks.

Ander Brady appeared at the opening Nell had come through. He held his jacket over his arm. His pajamas were wrinkled and filthy with marsh water. The Faery swiveled and pointed his sword at Ander.

“What’s this?” Ander asked, looking at the Faery in amazement.

“Are you also a nell?” the Faery demanded, beginning to feel outnumbered.

“I’m an Ander,” said Ander, frowning. “Look who’s better,” he added to Charlie.

“We’re Di Shang worlders,” explained Nell eagerly, letting go of Charlie. “At least, Ander and I are. Charlie is...something else, aye.” She was wracking her brains trying to decide if Faeries were good or not. They were the villains of human history but that was a long time ago. Eliza had only ever spoken of the King of the Faeries, who was an equivocal case but ostensibly allied with Swarn. They were certainly no friends of Nia, which surely put them all on the same side, or so she hoped.

“Di Shang worlders?” said the Faery wonderingly. “Human, then.” He bent to look more closely at Nell, examining every inch of her face with great studiousness. He reached out and pressed his fingers to her cheek, as if testing the texture of her skin, then took a strand of her hair between his fingers and rubbed it a little, drew it close to his face, and sniffed it. Nell stood very still and let him, though she wasn’t sure why.

“What are you smelling her for?” Charlie drawled, getting to his feet.