“This Empress,” said a broad-chested Elder with reddish hair and beard, “who is she, and whence has she come? This is the first we have heard of her.”
“I don’t know,” Linden told him. “I just know that she’s powerful and cruel, and that all the other faeries are afraid to do anything against her, because she knows their true names. So they have to obey her, whether they want to or not.”
It was then that Timothy realized what Linden was trying to do: She hoped the Elders would see the obvious parallel to their own history, and offer to give her the Stone of Naming without making her ask for it. But though the Elders all looked grave, none took the bait.
“And this Empress refuses to let her subjects associate with humans?” said the dark-haired woman who had addressed them before. “How does she expect the faeries under her rule to thrive? Where do they obtain their meat and milk and grain, their cloth and pottery, their books and musical instruments? Without human trade we would have none of these things, nor the skills to make use of them, and our realm would be impoverished.”
Silence. Timothy glanced at Linden, but she still looked crestfallen at how the Elders had ignored the obvious oppor-tunity to tell her about the Stone. Well, just because she hadn’t succeeded didn’t mean he couldn’t have a try himself.
“They steal them from us,” he spoke up, and was rewarded with shocked murmurs from every side of the room. “They pretend to be human, and lure us into trusting them, and then they take our creativity by force. But how are they supposed to know any better? Their Empress is the worst deceiver of all-she tricked all of the faeries into giving her their blood, and then she used that blood to find out their true names.”
The whispers turned into gasps, and many of the faeries sat up in their seats, looking appalled. “This is evil news indeed,” said a lean, blond Elder who bore a strong resemblance to Garan. “To hear that our fellow faeries have been enslaved against their will cannot help but grieve us all.” He turned his gaze on Linden. “Yet if this Empress is so powerful and ruthless, what makes you think you can resist her? Her servants are many, and you Oakenfolk are few. It would be ill done if we restored your people’s magic only to have the Empress conquer and enslave them, and turn those powers to evil in her service.”
“But the Oakenfolk aren’t alone,” Timothy said quickly. “They have allies-humans like myself, and my cousin and his wife. Not to mention a lot of faeries in the Empress’s service who would be glad to fight back against her if they could.”
“Yes, and some of those faeries have already helped us,” agreed Linden. “Even risking their lives to warn us about the Empress’s plans, and see us safely on our way. Which is why there’s one more thing I have to ask of you.” She clasped her hands imploringly. “Please-may we borrow the Stone of Naming, so that we can set them free?”
The hall went utterly silent. No one moved or spoke, but Timothy could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes upon them. The Elders exchanged looks. Finally one of them said, “You have given us much to consider, and we will do so-but in private. We will return when we have reached a verdict.”
Then they all rose and walked out, and the doors swung shut behind them.
As the murmurs from the audience swelled to a clamor, Garan hurried out onto the floor and drew Linden and Timothy aside. “You spoke well,” he said. “My father, Gwylan, is one of the Elders, and though he questioned you closely, I could see that he sympathized with your cause.” His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright as he spoke. “Perhaps it is time for our people, too, to take a stand.”
“What do you mean by that?” demanded a thin-faced faery with a cap of unruly dark hair. He jumped out of his seat and stalked down the steps to join them. “The Children of Rhys have stood for peace and justice ever since our forefathers first settled these islands. If the other faeries needed guidance, they had only to look to us, but they chose to go their own ways instead. If they have fallen under the spell of this Empress, surely they have only themselves to blame.”
“Look to us, Broch?” said Garan incredulously. “How can they? We leave these islands only to buy our goods and learn whatever crafts may please us, and even then we disguise ourselves and never speak. The humans know us to be generous, but that is all-and what can our fellow faeries learn from the Children of Rhys, when they have not seen or heard from us in centuries?”
“But we cannot leave the Gwerdonnau Llion,” protested a girl faery with dusky skin and wiry black hair who looked no older than Linden. “Not without becoming entangled in the very evils from which Rhys and our forefathers sought to deliver us. Surely you cannot desire that?”
“No, Rhosmari, I do not desire evil,” Garan replied with a hint of impatience. “But it seems to me that to stand idle while evil is being done is no virtue, either. If it is in our power to help Linden and her people-”
“Of course we will help them,” cut in Broch. “That much is plain. But what form that help will take is for the Elders to decide.”
“Is it plain, then?” said another male. “I am not so certain. What do we know of these Oakenfolk? Because one of their number has proven herself honorable, does it follow that all of them are so worthy?”
The discussion became animated as more of the Children of Rhys gathered around, new voices chiming in from every side. But they ignored Linden completely; even Garan was too busy defending himself now to pay any heed to her. All she could do was stand there on the outskirts of the noisy crowd, bewildered and a little hurt.
“Come on,” said Timothy at last, tugging at her arm. “If they’re just going to argue, we might as well go have something to eat.”
They found a quiet corner on the room’s far side, and Timothy handed out the lunches Mrs. Jenkins had made for them. A pang went through Linden as she opened her bag and found a jam sandwich, a rosy apple, and a bar of chocolate-tokens of a simple kindness that she now dearly missed. For all their courteous talk, the Children of Rhys had never asked if she and Timothy were hungry, or offered them anything to drink. And for all the sunlit beauty of the white chamber around them, the place was uncomfortable and even a little cold. She thought of the Oak, so humble by contrast, and felt homesick.
She had finished one half of the sandwich and started on the other when the chamber went abruptly quiet, and she looked up to see that all the Children of Rhys-the Elders included-had returned to their seats. Hurriedly she brushed the crumbs from her lap and walked back onto the floor with Timothy.
“We have made our decision,” said Garan’s father, and Linden felt a stir of hope. Surely it was a good sign, if the Elders had appointed him to speak? But then she saw how grave he looked, and her confidence faltered as he went on:
“Though it pains us to deny you, we cannot give what you ask. The curse that robbed you and your fellow Oakenfolk of magic has also left you too few in number to resist the Empress, even if your powers were restored. And though you claim to have allies, their loyalty is unproven, and the Stone of Naming is too precious to fall into enemy hands.”
Tears swam into Linden’s eyes, and she put her hands over her mouth. She and Timothy had come so far, endured so much… Had it truly all been for nothing?
“And yet,” Gwylan continued, “we are not without pity. It is the will of the Elders that any of your people who choose may come and join us here in the Gwerdonnau Llion, where their magic will be restored and they may live out the rest of their lives with us in peace and safety…provided, that is, they pass the test.”