Gwen Woods hurried through Queen's Park wishing she had time to stop and enjoy it. On a sunny afternoon in the last week of August, the park was green and leafy and full of life. Squirrels foraged in the grass, stocking their dreys for the winter. Pigeons flocked to the old man on the bench who threw bread crumbs. A woman in an electric wheelchair stopped to watch Sufi dancers at their sacred ballet. The popcorn man bumped his handcart over the curb.
Gwen was in her early twenties, plump and pretty with golden-brown hair cut in a short bob. She was coming from a job interview and dressed in a beige suit with a pink blouse. Though she could hardly walk in her high heels, she kept trying to run in short bursts of speed. A quick glance at her watch told her she was late as usual.
Leaving the park, she dashed across the road and on to Massey College. The wrought-iron gates at the entrance were open. Inside was a quadrangle of grass and trees. A clock tower rose above a fountain pool stocked with goldfish in among green reeds and lilies. Surrounding the quad was the orange brick residence that housed professors and postgraduate students. Each room looked down on the square through long narrow windows. Those working at their desks were illumined by lamps and computer screens.
Gwen gave her name to the porter, and the room she wanted him to ring, then sat on a bench near the fountain to wait. Soothed by the plash of water and the stillness of the place, she felt a pang for her own student days. They seemed so carefree in comparison to the grueling search for a job, made all the worse by the fact that she was far from home. Her qualifications were recognized by the Ontario College of Teachers, but it was unlikely she would find a job this late in the year. Her only real chance was a temporary position; but in the meantime she was applying for office work in banks and insurance companies. If all else failed, she was looking at a stint in a bar or restaurant. There were bills to pay and the rent on her little apartment.
Even as Gwen grimaced to herself, she accepted the sacrifice she had been willing to make, the upheaval of her personal life and the likely damage to her career prospects. Would there be worse to come? She already knew the answer.
· · ·
The worried look on Gwen's face was the first thing Laurel noticed when she stepped into the quadrangle. It wasn't reassuring. The meeting itself was something she was already unhappy about. Laurel had just settled into her rooms at Massey and was about to begin her studies for a master's degree. Following in the footsteps of her paternal grandfather, she planned to be a professor of Irish Folklore. This meeting had, of course, to do with folklore. Not the kind found in books, but rather the kind that was alive and kicking.
The first telephone call had been awkward for both of them.
"Laurel Blackburn? Hi. I'm Gwen Woods. Sorry to bother you, but this is important. Very important. I've been told…I mean…mutual friends…in the other place-"
"Who told you?"
"What?"
"Who told you about me?"
"Oh. Uh. Granny. Grania Harte. She's an old lady. Irish."
Laurel could hear the hesitancy and knew that Gwen was having difficulty bringing up the subject. Along with the fact that they were total strangers, it was never easy to talk about Faerie. The spells woven around that magic land helped to obscure and protect it. And the Irish always said it was unlucky to talk about "the Good People."
"Granny's a fairy doctress," Gwen said, in a rush of words. "A white witch you could call her. She lived in Faerie for seven years, where she gained her knowledge of the secret arts. She says she met you a few years ago?"
Laurel answered guardedly. "Yes, I remember. On a train crossing Ireland."
"She wants us to take a mission together."
Laurel's response was quick and unequivocal. "I asked to be left alone."
"I know. I understand. I think. But…please, could we meet? Just once? It's so hard doing this over the phone. I need…I mean…"
Laurel heard the desperation and relented a little. "It's the nature of the beast, eh? They don't like being talked about." Against her own wishes, she could feel herself softening. "All right. I'll meet you, but that's all I'm agreeing to. Can you come here?"
· · ·
They sat together on the bench. Both were around the same age, but there the similarities ended. Laurel was diffident and reserved, a tall young woman of lean and athletic build. She wore slim-fitting jeans, a dark sweater, and high-heeled boots. Her fair hair was pulled back in a French plait to reveal finely honed features and hazel eyes. Though she was striking, there was an air of vulnerability about her and her manner was defensive.
Gwen guessed at the reasons for the other girl's wariness. She knew the story as it was told in Faerie: how Laurel's twin sister had died in this world to become High Queen of the other. It underscored a truth Gwen knew from her own experience, something that Granny often repeated in warning. There has always been commerce between the Earthworld and Faerie, but while the rewards are enchanting the dangers are real.
"I'm sorry about your sister," Gwen said quietly to Laurel. "For your loss, I mean. I know she's happy where she is."
Laurel shrugged. She wasn't the sort of person who discussed her private life with strangers, but she appreciated the sentiment.
"Have you met Honor?"
"Not yet," Gwen explained. "I heard about her from my friends. To be honest, I don't visit Faerie that often. I haven't returned since she became queen. I guess you visit often?"
"No. I don't. My sister comes to me in dreams and sometimes in person, but I don't go there."
Though they were sitting beside each other, Gwen sensed the great divide between them. She needed to build a bridge.
"I understand," she said quickly. "Or at least I think I do. We were born into this world. This is where we're meant to live. Faerie is so incredibly beautiful, so magical, it can make being here too pale. That's not right. This is where we belong."
"Yes," Laurel agreed, with sudden vehemence. "Faerie can be like a drug. Alluring. Dangerous. Best avoided."
The bitterness echoed in her voice. She had said more than she intended.
"Is that why you asked that no one contact you?" Gwen spoke carefully. "Are you afraid of being drawn back in?"
It was a tricky moment, but it had to be grasped. Gwen needed Laurel's help.
As the last of the summer breezes blew through the quadrangle, the ivy on the walls fidgeted nervously.
They were two young women newly launched upon the world, yet they were more. Much more. Both had traveled far, not only across the Atlantic to the green isle of Ireland, but also across the ocean of infinity to the land of Faerie. Both had undertaken quests, faced danger and death. Both were heroines of song and story.
When Laurel didn't answer, Gwen cleared her throat. It was time.
"Something terrible is coming. A great attack against Faerie. Against all our hopes and dreams."
A tremor ran through Laurel, but she didn't look surprised. She had already been warned.
"My sister spoke of a 'dark hour' some time ago." Laurel's tone was wry. "But of course the warnings were couched in the usual cryptic premonitions. How do they expect to get a clear picture of the future from the flight of birds or the movement of clouds? It's absurd. Did you get the message from a dream?"
"No. E-mail." Gwen grinned. "Granny has taken to computers. She talks about the World Wide Web like it's a new form of magic. But she does the old stuff too. She saw the attack in a scrying glass even before the High King contacted her. She can also predict things from the movement of clouds-nephelmancy it's called-which is close to austromancy, divining the wind." She pointed to the spray of water in the fountain. "Pegomancy interprets the pattern of water as it falls in a fountain."
Laurel looked amused. "You should be in Folklore Studies. How do you know these things?"
Gwen started to laugh. "Granny taught me. Maybe if I can't get a job as a teacher I should try being a witch. Ornithomancy is my favorite. Can you guess?"
"Something to do with birds?"
"Yep. Reading the flight of birds."
The air was lighter between them.
"I know your story," Laurel admitted. "My sister's harper sang it one night when I still dined in the halls of Faerie. How you led the Company of Seven against the Great Worm to rescue Fairyland. It's a heroic tale."
"We just did what we had to."
Gwen was embarrassed by the praise. She would never be able to see herself as a heroine. In books and movies, the lead females were always tall and beautiful as well as fearless. Not only did she not look the part, she remembered being scared out of her wits most of the time. That was the difference, of course, between reality and fiction.
"Faerie is really important to me," she said quietly. "Something worth fighting for. Plus my cousin Findabhair was in danger at the time. Truth is, I was in over my head before I knew what was happening. And I couldn't have done it without the others, Katie, Matt, Dara…"
Her modesty was disarming. Laurel's tone was warmer. "Why don't you call up the Company of Seven? You've worked with them before and a team would be good if something big is going down."
Gwen shook her head ruefully. "The Company is scattered. My cousin and her husband, Finvarra, are on tour. They're musicians. The others were happy to volunteer, but Granny says no. The mission isn't really ours. We are just being called to support the key player."
Laurel frowned as she remembered. "Honor said the same thing. It has to do with the girl, Dana Faolan? The light that can bridge the darkness. She's here in Toronto?"
"Yes. We're supposed to protect her. Granny was adamant about it. Her exact words were 'You must stand between the child and the quern-stones of the Enemy even if you be crushed yourselves.'"
Despite the sunshine, they both shivered. A gloom fell over them.
"The fact we've been asked to do this shows how serious the threat is. I mean, the girl has abilities beyond either of us. If you've heard my story, then I guess you know hers too? She's half-fairy. Light flows in her veins. I've been told she's still growing into her powers, but she took on her quest for Faerie at a much younger age than we did."
"Honor's worried about her," Laurel said. "Apparently Dana is not the same girl we know from the story. Maybe she has fallen under malign influences already?"
Gwen was shocked by the suggestion. But it made her think. Even before she had decided to be a teacher, Gwen was involved with youth groups and summer camps. She had a special affinity for the young, particularly ones with problems.
"Dana was only twelve in her Faerie tale," Gwen pointed out. "That's over a year ago. The change in her personality could be due to something less sinister." Gwen grinned. "She's a teenager now."
Laurel rolled her eyes, but she was grinning too. They were both at ease with each other and definitely in tune. Perhaps that was what made Gwen careless.
"So, I understand you're in the same boat as me?" she said. "In a long-distance relationship with an Irishman? My boyfriend, Dara-"
The air between them went suddenly frosty.
Laurel's features cooled and her eyes hardened. Glancing at the clock tower, she stood up. "I have to go. I've got an appointment with my thesis supervisor and I need to prepare for it. I'm sorry, but I don't want to be involved with the mission. You'll have to do this without me."
"But…" Gwen was so surprised she could hardly think. "You…you're needed! Only humanity can rescue Fairyland. It's always been that way."
"I'm sorry," Laurel repeated, and her tone rang with finality. "I'm telling you what I told my sister. I'm no longer a Companion of Faerie. I won't fight their battles. Maybe it's time Faerie grew up and took some responsibility for its own survival. Time they learned to rescue themselves."
And she hurried away.
· · ·
Gwen sat stunned. What had happened? She was sure she had been getting through to Laurel. She had felt the first inklings of real friendship between them. Yet somehow she had said the wrong thing and ruined everything! Disheartened to the point of tears, she stared blindly into the fountain.
The splashing water sparkled in the sunshine. Though pegomancy was not something Gwen was very good at, she began to see patterns in the weave of water and light. Granny had explained to her the truth of fortune-telling. Everything is interconnected. Reality is like a hologram. Every piece contains the truth of the whole. All that happens-past, present, and future-can be read in what lies around us, if we only know the code. If we can read the language. What was she looking at? Something horrible. A monstrous shape with snakelike tentacles. There was another form near it. A human male. Now the tentacles snaked out, piercing the man's body like grappling hooks.
Gwen let out a cry and looked away. She couldn't bear to see more. But she knew what it meant. With or without Laurel, her mission had begun.
