If Forest Moss had been just pretending to be crazy before, he wasn’t acting any longer.
Pony cautiously put Tinker down but stayed between her and Forest Moss.
Forest Moss pulled the girl mannequin close and nuzzled into its neck, keening slightly. “All this is his fault.”
“Earth Son’s?”
Forest Moss keened more, his caressing hand making its way into the tight flowered pants. Judging by the gender ratio of his plastic audience, Forest Moss had a beef with little boys. “What a spoiled child he was! He could swallow the moon and still be hungry for the sun. He could not be happy with the prosperity of peace; he clung to the grudges of the past. It did not matter that his lovelies, the ones that loved to fight the best, begged him to give up such pettiness. Endless war would take us to extinction. It was time to put away old hates.”
Tinker wasn’t sure if Forest Moss’ rant had anything to do with Earth Son and the children. She’d been under the impression that Earth Son wasn’t that much older than Windwolf.
“Shut up!” Forest Moss suddenly bellowed at one of the few remaining boy mannequins. “Shut up! Yes, they chose the Fire Clan over us! Whining spoiled. .”
And he snapped out the closed-fist spell, reducing the silent mannequin to dust, and started to keen again. Tinker found herself teleported back a dozen feet more, both Stormsong and Pony between her and the crazed elf.
Was Forest Moss destroying himself again and again, the one that made the mistake that led to the slaughter of his household?
“Did you know — did he know that the pathway led to Onihida?”
“He should have been more cautious!” Forest Moss howled. “They trusted him to be careful! Some near stranger comes to him and whispers of a chance to beat all the other clans to wealth, and he leaps at the chance without wondering why him.”
“Someone else told you about the path to Onihida?”
“Oh, how hard he searched for their deaths. In and out of caves, over mountains, round and round, searching for the way to oblivion.”
“Who told him about the path?” Tinker pressed.
“You cannot find what you cannot see,” Forest Moss whispered. “That’s all domana are good for on Earth — to see the way home.”
Tinker nudged Stormsong aside and caught Forest Moss’ face between her hands and made him look at her with his one good eye. “Tell me who wanted the pathway found!”
Forest Moss whimpered softly and let drop the mannequin. As it clattered on the ground, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her.
“Wait,” Tinker growled as Pony and Stormsong grabbed hold of the male, trying to pry him away from her. “Let me deal with him.”
While Pony watched with concern, Stormsong had murderous hate in her eyes.
Forest Moss sobbed as he ran his hands over her, rubbing his face against her stomach. “So long! So long since I’ve held true flesh — soft and warm and yielding.”
“Tell me,” Tinker said. “Tell me about him or I’ll go away.”
“Oh, child, you can’t imagine what it is like to live so long. Memories do not stay bright and sharp. Years wear away the polish and then all details. Even with those you love, everything slowly washes away, the shape of their face, the sound of their voice, the scent of their hair. Names of friends and even enemies slip away, lost in the dark waters of time.”
“You don’t remember?” Tinker cried.
“No!” Forest Moss tightened his hold as if afraid she would tear away from him. “It was at one of countless parties at Summer Court. I remember I was on a bridge, somewhere in the gardens, and he found me there. We talked, but I don’t remember the words. All there is left is a dark wind smelling of cherry blossom, and the murmur of voices just over that of running water.”
“How could you forget the male that destroyed everything?”
“We searched for years!” Forest Moss wailed. “I deemed him unimportant. A nivasa, beautiful and talented but nothing more than a sweet, nearly forbidden treat.”
Any questions about what that all might have entailed was driven from Tinker’s mind as Forest Moss pushed his trembling hands up under her shirt. A moment later, he had his face pressed against her bared stomach, his scars rough against her skin.
“Domi,” Pony growled softly.
Tinker caught Forest Moss’ braid and yanked his head back.
“Please, oh, please, let me taste you!” Forest Moss begged.
Tinker flinched at the thought but growled, “Tell me something worthwhile!”
Forest Moss whimpered and groaned, running his hands over her stomach. “Something worthwhile? Something worthwhile? Gods above, nothing in my life has been worthwhile since the oni took my eye. Time has taken all that I had. There is only darkness where my lovelies once lived.”
“Did this nivasa talk with Earth Son? Convince him to lure the children here?”
Forest Moss went still, and his eye slowly widened. “Oh.” He finally breathed. “I did not recognize him. Yes, I saw him with Earth Son.” He pushed his face into her stomach again and moaned softly as he rubbed against her. “I thought nothing of him whispering in Earth Son’s ear, twisting him around and around until he was just as warped inside as I was. Ah, but Earth Son’s lovelies were much more wise than mine — they killed the spoiled brat before he could be the death of all.”
“What about the children? What are the children?”
“They are beautiful — until they’re unmade — then they’re like everything else — just so much dust.”
There was a ding, and the elevator door opened. Blue Sky leaned out. When he caught sight of them, he leapt out of the elevator.
“Tinker! Tinker!”
“What is it?”
“It’s your grandfather!”
“What?”
“Your grandfather! He’s here!”
“What? My grandfather is dead. You know that. You were at his funeral.”
“No, no, the other one! Your great-great-great-something-grandfather. The elf one! He’s here and he’s taking Oilcan away!”
36: BETWEEN A STONE AND AN IRON MACE
Somehow Oilcan managed to escape without being immediately loaded onto the gossamer and hauled back to Easternlands, kicking and screaming. He quickly explained that he had a household and frantically pointed back toward Sacred Heart.
All the while the back of his brain screamed reminders that this man had built a massive palace to trap his heart’s desire in — endlessly painting — until she agreed to become his lover. The male was relentless. Suddenly the story seemed creepy instead of sweetly romantic.
Forge nodded without glancing toward the enclave, his focus wholly on Oilcan. “We were told nothing except that my son’s orphan had been found in the middle of the war zone and there were no clansman here to protect him. We came as quickly as we could.”
“We?” Oilcan had the sinking feeling he was about to be outnumbered.
“Your grandmother’s brother came with me.” Forge waved a hand upward toward the gossamer. “Iron Mace against Stone.”
“Against” implied violent force. It seemed an ill-omened name to Oilcan, especially if the force was applied to him. As if summoned by name, the elevator started to descend again.
“I am just an architect,” Forge said. “While being methodical and exacting makes me excellent in my craft, I react too slowly for battle. Mace would not hear of me going into a war zone alone.”