episode 28: David Offers a Bribe

-David-

I sat in my kitchen, eating leftover soup and making notes on what I could do to become a lucid dreamer. Sunset came, and with it, moonrise.

I’d been avoiding the fence since I’d come home from the farm. But Louise’s jibe about finding another way pricked at me, so I decided to see if anything had changed.

I received a substantial shock. When I looked through the portal, an elaborate garden party, centred upon a grand pavilion, had supplanted the rough campsite I’d seen there, under a clear blue sky.

The Faerie host, literally, danced attendance, factions of light and dark engaged in a complicated minuet - both serving and entertaining those within the marquee. Little dishes were ushered in and swept out in an elaborate rhythm, each course sampled by a small collection of the Sidhe, all of whom were profoundly compelling and charismatic.

At the centre of everyone’s attention, including my own, was a Sidhe of such radiance that it was almost impossible for me to pull my eyes from her. Even the Sidhe who had come so close to compelling me to cross the gate paled compared to her. As I watched, captivated, she spoke, and I recognized in that voice like the ringing of chimes both large and small, the music that had compelled me so, that first night when I’d seen the Faerie host. But that night her voice had been as mysterious and romantic as the moon and stars. She was, in the daylight across the border, radiant as sunrise and full of promise.

After a few moments of goggling at the host, I realized their attention was upon the gate, peering through opera glasses or other odd devices. I wondered why they didn’t set up their encampment closer to the opening. The Radiance at the centre of my attention gestured towards the gate, and I flinched from the coruscating colours and sparks flying from the edges of the gate. After the flare, the gate’s dimensions seemed to waver, marginally. To my eyes, it shrank ever so slightly, and lost some of its definition. Whoever this Radiant Sidhe was, it seemed her effect on the gate was substantially different from the Sidhe of the gate, who had first invited me to cross over. His interactions with the portal had always seemed to make it more stable, but this Radiant Sidhe magic had a very different outcome, suggesting the magic of each of them was distinct.

After the colours faded, this glorious Sidhe, this queen, laughed, a sound that captivated me even through the muffling effect of the gate, and she shook her fingers as if burnt. The Sidhe of the gate also gave a laugh and bowed to kiss the finger that had been injured in her casual display of power. The other nobles around her froze at this presumption, but the queen giggled like a coquette. There was a subtle shift in the postures around her, and the Sidhe of the gate was suddenly more, well, centre-stage than he’d been previously. He bowed towards her, then, and made his own gesture towards the gate. This one contained considerably more effort, and the light show was considerably less impressive, but once again the gate gained clarity and expanded, ever so slightly. I was reminded of the argument that Takara had with Ellen on the gate’s stability - whatever else was at play; the Sidhe was definitely doing something.

When he was done, the fur along his arm smoked slightly, and the queen made some comment as she wafted the fumes away with an elaborate fan. All around her there was a wave of laughter, and a ripple of movement that seemed to denote uncertainty about his status. But the Sidhe of the gate bowed, made some amusing remark, and she laughed. Then, even as she seemed to continue her complaint, as evinced by the gestures of her fan, about the smell of singed fur, she rested a hand upon his, if only for an instant. This was sufficient, so that in this dance of status those around them treated them as a sort of pas a deux, as they continued their apparently witty exchange. Although I couldn’t hear what was said, these shifts in status in that political theatre were as clear to me as if a chorus had declaimed them. It wasn’t simply because of the dramatic gestures and attitudes of the Queen and the Sidhe of the gate, but because they included everyone around them, like some incredibly subtle and evocative pantomime. 

In the laughter's aftermath, the queen pouted, once again, gesturing towards the gate, though this time her power was the slightest grazing, a flare of colour at the gate, for emphasis. This ceremonial petulance showed, to my eyes, a desire for something specific regarding the gate. The Sidhe bowed then and left the pavilion, gesturing sharply as soon as he moved out of sight of the queen and her nobles.

He gestured sharply and there was a ripple of movement in his host that had only a nominal impact on the service to the various Sidhe he was entertaining. A group of the spider-centaurs emerged. One stood out in front of the others, and with a shock, I recognized it as the bastard that had bitten me. I had mentioned to Takara it differed from its fellows, more poised and self-aware. I suspected it was because of the time it spent in our world, for I’d first noticed the changes the night of the snowball fight. Those changes had continued; it seemed more self-aware than the others, more reticent, and it kept its eyes down while the Sidhe of the gate surveyed the creatures with a casual contempt, like a bunch of stray dogs in his garbage. It was clear he had to entrust some tasks to them, in order to please the Queen, but he could not pass through the gate himself. He spoke then, slowly, deliberately, and I saw the one in the front restless, like a schoolboy impatient with a teacher’s pedantic repetition.

This was apparently too much for the Sidhe and he grabbed the creature with one hand, grown suddenly large enough to encompass its torso and neck. It drew the spider centaur close to his face, snarling, as the creature’s back limbs scrabbled pointlessly at the air. The spider-centaur's arms, though, did not fight, but simply clenched into fists, waiting, enduring. When the Sidhe finished talking, the centaur simply nodded and dropped the creature like a used rag and kicked it towards the gate. It scarcely righted itself before striking one edge of the opening, which must have been razor sharp, given what they did to the auras of the Sidhe. Most of the other spider-centaurs laughed at the one that slunk into my backyard, apparently finding the Sidhe’s abuse the greatest of entertainments. All but one that frowned, looking back as the others lost interest and followed their master, who moved towards the pavilion of the radiant one. There he made some comment, gesturing at the little horde of spider-centaurs with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes, which resulted in a wave of contemptuous laughter in the Sidhe of the pavilions.

My attention shifted to the creature in my backyard. I thought of how it had differed from its fellows, how it had tried to control its impatience, and the changes I’d seen in it as I’d glimpsed it in the past few weeks. Clenching my fist, I felt the one that had changed and thought about its hostility towards me the night it had nearly bitten it off. But I also saw the Sidhe were all laughing and poking at the spider-centaurs, all of whom seemed bewildered by what was happening. 

I knew that while the creature might serve the Sidhe, there was no love there. It was rubbing its posterior where the Sidhe had kicked it and glaring back through the gate. I needed someone who might have a deeper understanding of Babe’s nature. Someone who knew something of how gates might work, and about accessing other worlds. I was not so foolish to think that the Sidhe of the gate might help me, but perhaps this poorly used creature might share some information.

I looked down at my hand, let the small glamour I held constantly to conceal the disfigured finger and let it drop. It was also true Takara had hunted his creature, and it had no reason to love me any more than its master.

I pondered the problem, glancing at the stack of books on lucid dreaming that sat on my kitchen table. It would take months to master and then, despite my new belief in magic, I thought it absurd that I should try to dream my way to Babe and Takara, and then what, dream them home? It was absurd. That decided me. I rushed to the fridge, finding there still, a carton of cream that I’d gotten for Takara when I was replenishing my fridge, forgetting as I shopped that she was lost to me. I truly hoped that the stories of the Fey’s fondness for milk and honey were true. Opening the back door, I saw the creature still peering up the alleyway, obviously still not comfortable about venturing further into our world. When he saw me, there was a flash of teeth, and a hiss, but then he shrank back into the shadows of the bare bushes and I saw him fade from sight, his fur rippling as his aura created an illusion of shadow.

I moved slowly, keeping my eyes upon the spot where the creature had been, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. I put the cream and honey on a low bench against the same fence that contained the gate, so that my offering there would be hidden from anyone looking in from the other world. And I was lucky enough that the Sidhe and their host seemed to be wrapped up in their own affairs, taking, for the moment, no interest in the gate.

If I was going to bribe the creature, I certainly didn’t want it to get caught by its master. When I got back to the doorway, I gazed into the shadows, took a breath and said, "It would seem that you’ve been sent on a task." The creature froze as I spoke, though I did not know if it understood me, "and I do not know if my offering might please your master." I gestured at the cream and honey, "but the old stories suggest it might be a delicacy for his queen."

With that, I went back inside and closed the door, peering out the window, the lights of my kitchen off so I could see what had occurred. Sure enough, by the time I got there, the creature was sniffing at my offering, and after fumbling with the cardboard spout, got it open and dipped a finger into the cream, tasting it gingerly. It shuddered as it did so. I thought I saw a rush of delight and hunger run through it, and then it seemed to exert some self-control. He did the same with the honey, and then, after a bit more fussing, closed both lid and spout carefully, put them into a small satchel at its side. He looked towards me then, watching him through my window. Despite the lack of light inside, I knew then that he saw me. He inclined his head, the smallest of acknowledgments, and went back through the gate towards the pavilion. The Sidhe of the gate came out quickly to meet him, frowning at his premature return, but smiled when he examined the contents of the centaur’s offerings. There was a gesture and a whirl of activity. I saw my offerings decanted into considerably more graceful vessels. I didn’t see what happened next, as the sudden whirl of activity in the pavilion hid the events within from view, but when the Sidhe re-emerged, he was apparently pleased with the results of his offering and even gave the little centaur a word of praise, which the centaur accepted with a bow. Then, to both my surprise, and the centaur’s, the Sidhe crouched suddenly, and placed one claw-tipped finger under the creature’s goatee, at its throat and nodded towards the gate. He spoke briefly, and during this time the centaur held rock still. The Sidhe stood again, and without another word, went back to the party, while the centaur, after sketching a bow, came through the gate once more. 

He glanced my way upon his return, but his expression was filled with irritation and worry. I had then, a moment of insight; he had indeed pulled off a coup, but now the bar had been raised, and would be one difficult to meet. As he came through the fence, the moon passed into overcast. The gate faded, the creature looked up, as I did, and realized it would be trapped here until next moonrise. There was a sound of cursing, and the creature kicked at the fence, its spider claws gouging a deep scar in the wood. I worried then for the lack of protection from the creature, now that Takara was lost to me. It was a circumstance that may not bode well for either of us, unless…

I picked up the phone to call Louise.

photo by robin worral on unsplash