Page 121 of Minor Works of Meda

“An enchantment was ripped from your mind,” the faerie said. “That is damaging, but your will is your own again, now.”

“It’ll be alright. Calm down,” I told Kalcedon shakily, trying to be soothing. I knew I ought to be worried there was a faerie just by us. I was too weak to cast another working if he decided to attack, though he seemed to be in a helpful mood, at least for the moment.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. I don’t even know you,” Kalcedon answered me.

He didn’t remember me?

How could Kalcedon not remember me?

“But it's me,” I begged, my voice thin and tremulous.

“Do not fear, Sorrowborn. She is right; all will be as it will be,” the faerie said. “Ah, and here come the peerage.”

“Sorrowborn?” Kalcedon croaked. “That's not my name. Is it?” He pulled his hands away from his face and blinked at the faerie. He still had not looked my way.

“It is one of your names.”

I wiped away the water in my eyes and faced the direction the stranger gazed. Arrayed in front of us were members of the faerie court, slowly approaching. They bowed or curtseyed, one by one, and kept their distance.

I curled my fingers into the first sigil of a shield, though I did not begin to actually cast it. Chaotic, sick feelings clamored through my mind, making a mess of my thoughts. I could handle Kalcedon hating and rejecting me better than him forgetting me altogether. None of this could be happening. Perhaps it was all an elaborate illusion.

“What are they doing?” I heard Kalcedon ask the faerie.

“It has been many years since a witch was Sorrowing Lord,” the faerie murmured. “Some thousand, perhaps. They will fear your punishment, but they are bound to pay their respects.”

“You don’t mean…”

“I do,” the faerie told him. “You are Lord of this place, now. Until you die.”

Kalcedon turned slowly towards the crowd. Then back to the faerie beside us.

“Make them leave.”

“They are bound by an Obeisance. You have only to say the word.”

“Go,” Kalcedon said. He stood slowly and cast his voice over the crowd. “Go the fuck away.”

Soon, the only fae who remained was the one who had helped us, the one still crouched beside Kalcedon.

“I won’t do it,” Kalcedon said. “They can do as they like, I’m not a part of it.”

“You can do as you wish,” the faerie responded. “But you cannot change who or what you are, or the blood that runs in your veins. Whether you command his host or not, they are as bound to you as they are to the land. If you choose not to command them, then no one will, and they will run ragged over this place. Would you let them?”

“That’s a blasted load of dung,” Kalcedon muttered. He already sounded more like himself, I thought distantly. But was I no longer a part of him? “I don’t know what in horns you’re talking about, but…”

“Here come the mortals,” said the faerie, ignoring Kalcedon’s cursing.

I felt like I was watching it through a scry-bowl. Like my body was somewhere else.

A band of cantering horses approached with Karema riding at the helm. Minutes later, they drew to a halt and dismounted. Karema handed off her reins and approached us.

“We saw the mountain fall,” she called as she approached. “I can’t believe you actually did it. But…” her words cut off as her eyes found Oraik. “Is he…?” she asked softly.

“He will live,” the faerie told her.

“Good. What are you doing here, Tarelay?”

I stared dumbly at the green faerie beside me. Tarelay Sorrowsworn unfolded himself, straightening with his arms still clasped behind his back.

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