Chapter 37

The Court of Queen Uonaidh, Alfheim

The Lady Iris’ summoning ring deposited Quinn and The Daoine in the center of the Royal Bower in Alfheim. The garden, sheltered by four impossible tall redwood trees that had their lower limbs draped with wisteria vines in full bloom, had a beauty that defied description.

Judging from the flowers and the decorations, it was Autumn Court. One of the four major celebrations of the nature loving Daoine Sidhe. He took a deep breath drawing in a breath of air as rich as wine. He had spent a lot of time in this realm and it never failed to take his breath away. Alfheim was like every fairy tale environment humans could dream up multiplied by a thousand. Utterly breathtaking in its beauty and peacefulness. It was no wonder the ancients clad in their animal furs straight out of the ice age regarded it as paradise.

The Sidhe had hundreds of thousands of years to create perfection—and as far as he could judge they succeeded. He smiled thinking what Elisabeth Van Horn, the harmonist, would make of its perfection.

Their appearance out of thin air caused the polite murmur of fluting voices to rise to a clamor. Quinn judged that the cream of the Daoine and Dökkálfar aristocracy were present.

The Queen’s bodyguards immediately surrounded the two of them.

Quinn regarded them silently. He decided to wait and see what developed. He had completed the tasks set before him except for acquiring the scroll that the Daoine held in his hand. If the troll women wanted the scroll they could damn well come and get it from Queen Uonaidh.

Predictably, the renegade took afront. He stood and glared arrogantly at the tall warriors surrounding him.

“Do you dare raise a hand to a royal,” he sputtered. “I am the Queen’s cousin.

“Venwraek, my cousin. Be silent.” Queen Uonaidh’s voice whip cracked. She waved her hand to the onlookers. “Leave us. We will continue the festivities later, after this bit of business is taken care of. Lyrandra and Iris stay if you would.”

“Singer and song bless you, Keeper and Walker of Shadows. What gift have you brought for me?

Quinn bowed and sang out in high alfar. “Your Majesty, I bring you a common criminal for your judgment along with a forbidden scroll that was stolen from my father. There is also the matter of the stolen mind ripper. The Vísdómur charged me with the scrolls recovery as did the Lady Iris.”

“What crimes have my cousin committed, Keeper?”

“He did many in my eyes, however the highest, to my way of thinking, was plotting with the soul-eaters to open a thinning in Oldtown.”

That made the female called Lyrandra, who Quinn presumed was the head of the Daoine renegade’s house, give out an involuntary gasp.

“How do you respond to these charges, cousin.”

“Lies, my queen, pure lies. This human has interfered far too often in our business. Have the Daoine fallen so low as to take counsel from a mere human. Cast him out and let us go on with celebrating the arrival of the autumn harvest.”

She turned to Quinn, “Where is your proof, O Keeper. My cousin names you as a bearer of false witness.”

“Respectfully, Majesty, I do not lie. I suggest you check the Orb swinging from his hand. It has been recording for some time. Mayhaps, it has a story to tell.”

Quinn kept his expression bland during all this. He knew before he touched the rings that coming here was fraught with risk. The Sidhe were ever touchy and their moods unpredictable. He knew that most regarded him as a dangerous thug who needed to be put down as soon as possible. Nobody likes a soldier or a cop until the guns started sounding.

Queen Uonaidh raised a hand and one of the guards wrenched the mind-mapper out of the Daoine’s hand and handed it to Lady Iris.

The Daoine, his arrogance now gone, watched her like a trapped animal. His eyes flickering back and forth as if to find some escape.

Lady Iris regarded the orb with delicate moue of disgust. A nod from her queen, she muttered a cantrip and activated it. The Queen, Lyrandra and Lady Iris closed their eyes and let the recording roll.

If the contents affected the Queen, the unearthly beauty of her face didn’t show it. She turned to the raven-haired woman she had asked to witness.

“What shall I do with him, Lyrandra. He is scion of your House.”

“Of course, you must banish him, Uonaidh. Blood spilled will mar the festival. By custom in Autumn Festival, my house claims a boon for his life.”

The Queen nodded. “As you wish.”

Quinn frowned.

The Daoine stood tall with triumph. He glared hate at Quinn.

“I will have my vengeance, Keeper. I will flay the skin off everyone you love. I will...”

Quinn loosed the dragon’s razor and took the Daoine’s head.