Dreamthief

Dreamthief – a novella of the Unbinder Recursion

  Jason Knepper

  Copyright 2014 Jason Knepper

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  Table of Contents

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Dictionary

  Epigraph

  Faerie Marketdays, also called Goblin Markets, the Traveling Sideshow, and a hundred other names, is a phenomenon unique to the Faerie of the Western Hemisphere, Eastern Clans are forbidden by the August Personage in Jade from similar gatherings....

  ...Fae merchants, craftspeople, tradesmen, bards, enchanters, and traders of the Greater Clans of Stone, Tree, Flame, Sea, and Wind mingle freely and without many of the geasa that govern inter-Clan relations, but it requires four of the five Clanheads working in tandem to declare a Marketday, and since the demise of the Stone Clan's head in the early 20th century and the vacancy of the Wind Clan, there is no ability for the Clanheads to reach consensus...

  ...Artifacts, Relics, all forms of armor and weaponry, all can be found at the Market, assuming you can afford the price...

  -From A Primer on Modern Fae History, Archives internal training documents.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I sighed, stabbed a plain, unspelled dagger into the brick and concrete gate arch leading into the Goblin Market. I snagged one of the spellcords from the barrel next to the open gate and wrapped it around my left wrist and felt the peacebond enchantment kick in, wrapping around all the iron I was carrying and making it safer for the Fae to be around me.

  “I hope the Gatewatchers charged the hell out of them for this,” I complained telepathically to my psychic housemate.

  “At least it isn't a complete binding, you can still use spells,” Prometheus soothed. “And whatever they charged, I'm hoping they were smart enough to check for spre na skilleagh.”

  “You really think Chrysaor would have let someone that stupid work for him?”

  “No, but he's been gone for a while, standards might have slipped.”

  I wasn't about to worry whether they'd been paid in disappearing-fairy-gold or not, I was too irritated that sensibility demanded I leave my backpack behind, as I've gotten used to having ready access to the bits and bobs I haul around in it. No hope for it, the second most common way to get stuck in obligation to a Faerie is for them to slip something into your pockets or baggage and claiming you stole it.

  Halfway through the two pace deep gate, the air wavered in a heat haze distortion and after I crossed it, I wasn't in Kansas anymore, literally. The Earthside of the gateway was in a wheatfield in the far backwoods of Kansas, probably a really juvenile attempt at humor by whoever'd built the Portal. The other side was the Marketplace. I was standing on a landing platform the Fae had arranged just so visitors could be overwhelmed by the view, exactly what you'd expect from Fae showoffs. The view was fantastic, to be fair. The Marketplace was the size of a medium-small city in the USA, and backing as it did onto a seashore between this cliff and another, it was in a crescent shape, and off in the distance of the sea I could see part of a mountain range as picturesque as the Himalayas, all perfectly balanced grey stone and blindingly white snow caps. All the buildings I could pick out from here were contributors to the scene, the roofs forming visual textures like a huge Zen garden, and the colors of the buildings making ribbons and trails of color and a pattern that supported the pattern of the roofs while also being distinct from them.

  Just as I started to turn my head and go down the handcut stone staircase, a ripple of Power carrying the scent of jasmine signaled the arrival of a pixie, a semi-sentient spell used by the Lords & Ladies of Faerie for minor tasks. “Be welcome to the Market, visitor! All sales are final, all deals are at your own risk, and the return policy is 'Come back when you've got more money or something to trade'!” The blue Tinkerbell-lookalike disappeared with another wash of Power. I smirked at the combination of twee and snark in the greeting and started walking.

  A few minutes into my stroll, passing a pair of Satyrs staggering their way back up to the Gate and a pair of middle-aged humans trudging past with a look of loss about them, the feather tattoo on the side of my neck tingled with a mild electrical pulse, so I looked up into the sky, and there was half the reason I was here, the Head of the Windhorse Clan, Pegasus himself. His voice sounded off in my brain with the echo of Windmagic behind the smooth tones of Morgan Freeman. “Welcome to the Market, Ry. I'll meet you at the first landing, there's not enough space here for me to land.” He flapped his lightning-marked wings and went on ahead, and I dropped my gaze before I was treated to the inadequate-making sight of a horse's genitals.

  “My head's turning into a train station,” I complained to the Firegiver.

  “And if anyone else gives you a mark of favor you'll rent your ass out for billboard space,” he sighed, since I make that same complaint every time someone else manages to get some kind of hold on me. “You're the Unbinder, the Champion of the Earthmother, child of Tiamat, and you're tied to the Head of Faerie's Windhorse Clan.” He sighed again, also a repeat. “Y'know, the last time I had this kind of repetitive conversation with someone, I was married and getting sex out of the deal.”

  “Last time you had this kind of conversation, you had a penis,” I shot back. “Although if you were half as hung as Marge there, I feel bad for your wife.”

  I saw the huge gray horse alight on the wide landing, right in front of a gaggle of kids and their minder who were taking a rest break on a bench. One of the little girls, her hair done in stereotypical blond pigtails, jumped up with a squeal and ran in his direction. He swung his great head down in her direction and fluffed his wings and giving a little hop-step of greeting.

  “Aww, that's the cutest thing I've seen this week,” I teased, patterning my thoughts so he could pick them up. He just ignored me and nudged the kid with his nose, making her squeal again, and drawing the attention of her minder and fellow carpet-crawlers. The woman, who was either a Reeve or other trained fighter followed her charges as they all ran toward the noise and the big horse. I stopped just at the edge of the landing and waited to see what the big lug was going to do, play dumb or surprise everyone by talking.

  “And what are you called, little one?” he asked the girl, who shrieked again and with a surprising level of care, slowly held her hand out to pet him, and he moved his head closer.

  She touched his cheek, and I was close enough I could hear her reply “Sharon,” and she grabbed one of her little friends who was about to run headlong into the horse.

  “And what have you been told about giving your real name to a Faerie, young lady?” The guardian's voice could have gotten a stone to salute, and I saw her hand gripping the butt of a pistol in the back of her waistband.

  “She's correct, little one, choose a name for a Faerie to call you, don't give yourself away cheaply, there are those that would take advantage,” the horse added. “Now why don't you step back a little and let your friends come closer, but one at a time, please. You obviously know horses, why don't you tell them the way to come near one without getting hurt?” Some of the tension went out of the lady's shoulders, but her hand still stayed on her gun, so I thought I should get in on this fun.

  “He's really good with kids, wish I'd had one like him in the old days.”

  “You teleported everywhere, you didn't even own a horse.”

  “Doesn't change my desire to have a smart horse.”

  I walked up slowly, and since I was coming up on her side, I coughed politely before I got to a distance that could threaten her charges, never a good idea with someone with kids, especially when they've got a gun. Her eyes cut in my direc
tion, and I shifted my path enough that I could come at her face on. Her eyes raked over me from head to toe, taking in the black hair, green eyes, feather tattoo peeking from an unbuttoned shirt in electric blue, and an upraised left hand with a glowing Archive brand on it. I returned the favor, black hair braided into immobility, brown-black eyes that I doubted ever lost alertness except maybe in sleep, probably of Brahmin-caste Indian ancestry, about 5' 1”, and I guessed there were more weapons than the gun, but I couldn't see any holsters or bulges, the sign of great concealment spells.

  “I hope they've been having a good time,” I said, nodding my head towards Pegasus' audience, who were obeying Sharon and slowly approaching the horse and letting him get their scent before they could stroke his hide or wings.

  “I believe so, I only had to shoot two chickenhawks.” She took a closer look at my brand. “Oh.”

  “Problem?”

  “No, just realized who you are.”

  “Ah. Rhymer or Ry,” I replied. The Reeves and I have had issues ever since their founder Chrysaor the Golden disappeared into a pocket universe and left me all his stuff. Only to be expected, he was involved in their lives from childhood, much the same way she was doing with these kids.

  “Avani . I'm guessing he's your ride?”

  “More like you're the ride,” Sparky giggled.

  “And which of the two of you is riding in the bitch seat?” I shot back.

  “More like partner, I hope, but I'm surprised you're not over there picking his brain, he's your boss' brother, after all.” Her eyes went wide enough I could see white all the way around her irises.

  “You mean he's not just a Pegasus, he's the original?” I nodded and her neck almost snapped with whiplash, watching a millenially old, intelligent, speaking, flying horse.

  “This thing” I pointed at the inked feather, “means no other flying horse will carry me. Granted, you don't often get a Clanhead doing a pickup, but it's either that or he waits a couple days for me to wander my way to the Horse quarter.” She didn't even groan at the pun, she was still tracking me, the kids, and the wonder horse.

  “Ry, see if you can talk her into bringing the kids back to the Quarter. At least one of them is a Rider,” Pegasus said, causing my eyes to widen. Now that was a surprise.

  “Is it really a good idea for a kid this young to get Chosen? And isn't that really a matter of, well, choice?” Oh goody, I get to have a three-part mindcrunch between two telepaths that don't like each other very much and have competing claims on me. Sometimes I wish my life was boring again.

  “It is for me and the Elders among the Clan, but there's also a percentage of born Riders, and there's at least one in this flock,” Marge said, punctuating his teasing remark with a gentle flap of his wings and getting a giggle out of the kids, and surprisingly playing nice with Prometheus.

  “Okay, you'll have to back my play,” I told the horse. “Well, you mind if I introduce myself to the kids?” She waved her arm in their general direction, palm up, as if to say 'On your own head be it', and she took her hand off the gun.

  I haven't spent much time around kids since I left the Retreat, but within a few minutes I had them eating out of the palm of my hand. I'd answered about fifty questions from the eight kids, ranging from 'Are you really a friend of Uncle Chrys' to 'Can I ride your horse'. And answering no to the riding question was a great segue to getting the kids to wheedle Avani about detouring to the Quarter.

  “I can give you my word none of my Clan will harm your wards, at least if they're as careful with them as they were with me,” Marge said with all the solemnity of an oath.

  The Reeve thought it over for a few moments after gesturing the kids to silence, but that didn't stop the hopeful looks they shot her that could have melted stone. “My only concern is it's quite a hike to the Horse Quarter, if I remember the map correctly. They're tired already, they'll probably be cranky by the time we get there, and that's not fun for anyone.” I could hear the teasing tone in her voice, she was guessing neither I or Marge would have suggested a visit and make them trudge miles after a long day, but she was enjoying making the kids squirm. Their eyes got so big and tear-filled it was almost sad, and I felt bad for a second, but getting to show off one of the coolest toys I've acquired in my years in the field, especially one I don't get to use that often, was too much to resist.

  “You might be onto something there, Avani. It is a long way,” I drawled. The bottom lips started quivering on a couple of the kids, and I knew it was time to stop the joke. “But, I think I've got a solution.” I walked over to the cliff face and scratched out a couple of sigils and poured my Ocean magic into it, making it glow an electric blue for an instant before the light spread out into an oval shape and bleached the stone inside it the color of ivory. I ran my hand down the center of the oval and it flowed down the wall and assumed the same shape on the ground, leaving a deep hole in the cliff, but what the hell, it wasn't anyone's possession. “Now, I just add the final touch,” I said in my best theatric voice, sliced my left index finger open a little bit on the razor sharp hole in the wall, and squeezed out a little blood onto the stone puddle. I cast the other necessary spells in my head, and the puddle took its final shape, a five feet wide, two feet thick disc that looked as if it was a photo of a milk puddle just after something was dropped into it, rippled over most of the surface with a higher semicircular wall along one edge reminiscent of a waterfall. All along the sides, like the milled edges of a coin, were a mishmash of symbols from several of the languages I know, from Sanskrit to Telchine. “Okay, now everybody get on, and we'll get moving.”

  Avani shot me a look that promised retribution if something went wrong, but I just waved her along with the kids. When she got on and urged the kids to sit down, the surface conformed itself into more secure seating, just like I'd intended. I don't get to use the vimana nearly as often as I'd like since the Power cost to operate and cloak it Earthside makes it prohibitively expensive. There's just something about having your own miniature flying saucer that's just so damn cool.

  “You're almost as big a showoff as a teenage boy.”

  “This coming from a guy that got suckered by a guy whose name translates as 'MostCunning', AKA Backstabbing Prick?”

  “Oh, shut up and enjoy the limelight from a bunch of prepubescent kids,” he grumped.

  Avani watched and listened as I told the kids to be sure and stay seated, then I gave the mental command that made the platform rise into the air, to their yelps and squeals of surprise. I only let it get about shoulder height off the ground, about four feet or so, just enough to give them the thrill of flight without the danger of falling off and breaking their necks. Sharon, who I was guessing was the brainiac of the bunch as well as the most adventurous, asked what they were riding on, and I told her it was a magic flying platform, just like the ones the Gods of India used a long time ago. From the bemused look Avani gave my thumbnail description of a vimana's use, my initial guess about her ethnic extraction was correct, but I'm not in the habit of scaring the crap out of kids by telling them the thing they're flying on was used by the Gods of India not just for transport but to rain down death from above on the unsuspecting by the city-load.

  “Never thought of you as the nuturing type, Ry.”

  “I have a lot of younger cousins, why do you think I've avoided having kids? I've already spent enough time wiping noses and listening to tantrums, thanks.”Audibly I said we were heading out, so I got on Marge's back, but instead of taking off he just took a few steps forwards, and with each he rose a little higher into the air until we were just a head or so higher than the vimana.

  “Now who's the showoff?” I broadcast to the horse and the Titan with a smirk.

  “You both are, he's just got a bigger special effects budget,” Prometheus said, finally getting a snort of laughter from Pegasus. “Walking on air's an easy trick for a Zephyr, and it's an impressive one, but how come we're taking the slow road? We could be
there in minutes if he stretched himself, and those sleds can go hypersonic.”

  “I need to do more than plunk down in the Horse Quarter and haggle, I know for a fact there are a few other Archivists here, and for all I know the Clans sent someone too. And I need to get something for Harmony's wedding anyhow, so think of it as killing three birds with one stone.”

  “This is Market, you can find almost anything you imagine here, if you're willing to pay the price.”

  “How's the food around here?” I asked the Reeve. “I'm starving and I'd rather not spend a few centuries polishing shoes.”

  “Excellent, just as you'd expect. They've actually put up signs on all Goblin foods, or at least the public venues have. Privately, I still think you take your life in your hands if you eat anything, so we brought our own.”

  “Smart woman,” Pegasus said to her. “The signs only apply to what was there when the sign was put up, nothing stopping someone from swapping food. The Fae love human children,” he sighed.

  “Doesn't that include you, Lord Pegasus?” He looked right at her and laughed.

  “I like her, Ry. She's got stones.”

  “She's a Reeve, and your brother wouldn't hire or raise a bunch of pantywaists, would he?” I watched the way ahead, and we drew a few stares and remarks as we tromped down the stairs, but I was willing to bet there were better free shows going on in Market. I nudged him with my heel to get him to pull up and not run down a gaggle of old ladies twittering and giggling like a bunch of teenagers and passing a flask of some kind back and forth.

  “No, I guess not. I might be Lord of a Fae Clan and I like children, but I'm not inclined to steal them,” he answered the lady's challenge.

  We got to the end of the stairs in relative silence, and I noticed the kids had fallen asleep, except for one clever little boy that kept doing the nod-and-jerk routine.

  At the bottom, we came into what looked like a parking lot outside a Ren Faire, all people in strange clothes trying to sort out their packages and passengers, and Pegasus led our party to a side gate instead of the giant one the crowd was shuffling through. Over here, the wall was made of wood instead of gray stone, and most of the people trying to use this gate were redirected to the main gate by the guards in green and grey uniforms. I dismounted as we got close, since my head would have hit the top of the gate, and after showing them my brand and Pegasus claiming the kids and the Reeve as our guests, we were allowed to pass with a bow from the pair. Inside, there was a huge holographic display showing the basic outlay of the Market, and a marker with our current position. The Horse Quarter was halfway across the city from here, almost a three mile hike, so I was glad I'd broken out the flying machine for the kids.

  “Wonder if Ranson's here, this is a hell of an opportunity for him to get some fresh lore, and maybe dump the hot stuff out of his section,” Sparky mused.

  “Probably, he's old enough to have gone to the last Marketday. Too bad celphones don't work here.”

  “Try a resonance pulse through the brand,” he suggested, and I took the advice. Nothing showed up within my range, but if the brands were in stretched spaces, under wards, or simply outside my mile wide radius they wouldn't show up. “Keep trying, one's bound to show up sooner or later.” I shook the ringing sensation out of my hand and remounted Pegasus, since I wasn't looking to have a three mile hike either. On an impulse, I showed Avani the controls for the vimana's shields and weapons and set the course for the Horse Quarter, then prodded Marge into taking flight, this time at a higher altitude.

  We cruised higher and higher until the people were the size of ants, and then leveled out.

  “Ready to fly without the Wild Hunt on our tail?”

  “More than,” I replied with a laugh.

  His wings spread, and the lightning traceries shifted from white to my signature electric blue, and his whinny called up a stiff tailwind that he caught like a surfer catching a wave. We shot off into the sky and I hung on for dear life and screamed a wild, wordless song of joy in flight.