The Myth Seekers joined Selene in what the servant called a sitting room, but seemed more of a porch or some other manner of indoor-outdoor space to Raith. He wasn’t well versed in what rooms were supposed to be called, but this one had the comfortable seating of more traditional sitting room, but the far wall was entirely absent, opening up into a beautiful garden and woodline beyond. The gentle breeze brought in fresh air and the scent of the flowers.

  Raith found the entire arrangement enchantingly serene, and took a note of it’s features for possible use in his new [Mnemonic Manor]. It was odd the things he found himself noticing now that he had a place of his own. Things like furniture comfort, art, and room aesthetics that he had previously never cared about in the slightest.

  Selene interrupted his introspection as the trio took a seat and tea offered by the sprites.

  “I have been advised that the High Court sent the pixie Zinnefria as a spy upon learning that dream-connected [Divine Skill] might be stirring in the mortal realm. A [Skill] possessed by one who cleverly avoided affiliation with the Order of the Loom. As the fae moon waxes, the sidhe sought to investigate this new potential ally…or enemy.”

  Well, that answers one question.

  “She’s sort of insinuated herself into our team. Zinny’s helped us out of a bad spot on a few occasions already, but since you brought her up I just want to make sure. Can she be trusted?”

  “After a fashion. Zinnefria has donned many aspects, but they are generally quite harmless if not altogether serious.”

  Thea sat forward at this.

  “What do you mean by ‘many aspects’?”

  “All immortals deal with the weight of time differently. The fae can only hold onto to so many years at once…some far more than others. We must assemble the composition of our current aspect from some collection of all the things we’ve been throughout the millennia. Your Zinny has been a fierce warrior and even a feared assassin in the far distant pass, but she gravitates towards silliness whenever the times allow. It is a good way to wear the years, I think. Fear not, she is seelie and her heart is true. You can trust her, although she will not disobey our King.”

  Raith wasn’t sure how he felt about that last part, but at least his impression that the pixie had their backs was correct.

  “Countess, I’m also worried that the Hollow Earl let us keep that key. Is it cursed or something?”

  She gave a sad smile and shook her head.

  “It is wise of you to ask, and I intended to warn you if you hadn’t. The artifact is not cursed, but brings another danger. The formor will not rest until they have obtained the item, and it is only a matter of time before they ascertain its location. Even the Hollow Earl cannot fend off their kingdom indefinitely, and his empire is not suited to defending against armies. Furthermore, the Forgotten Ones have found that one familiar to you, a High Emissary Venton, leads the rogue Templars and has a particular vendetta against you. I suggest you find someone to entrust it to who can guard it well.”

  Venton again, that harpy's ass. Why can't that man just leave me alone?

  “Will you take the key?”

  The Countess held up a hand.

  “Goodness no. The High Court sent me to avert a war in the mortal realm, not summon one to our own borders.”

  Nyhm offered a name that cleared the entire problem up.

  “Pridian.”

  Raith smiled. Perhaps not the whyver specifically, but certainly MerScales Bank. The dragon-kin didn’t care a whit for the conflicts of land-dwellers, and the formor posed little threat to their undersea empire.

  “You’re a genius.”

  His brother flushed at the compliment, but Thea gave the elfling an encouraging arm squeeze. She then looked at Raith.

  “Now tell her about the weird stuff with your [Skill].”

  Selene looked at him quizzically. Raith took a deep breath and leaned forward, meeting the Countess’s eyes.

  “So you know how I told you [Life in Staccato] works?”

  The sidhe noble nodded cautiously, eyes flicking towards Thea’s and back to his.

  “Well, this is what does when I’m in the Fae Realm and the Dreaming.”

  He activated the [Skill], and just as before everything outside of a small radius froze.

  Selene paused with her teacup raised, the porcelain rim barely brushing her bottom lip. She did not drink. Instead, she lowered the cup back to the saucer, then delicately placed the entire set on the table before standing.

  “This is beyond my knowledge. I had thought your meeting with Moira might be something done at your leisure,” she said, “but I believe it is much more important that you speak with her now rather than waiting for your convenience.”

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  “Beg your pardon,” Thea said. “I don’t wish to be argumentative here, Countess, but I need to get back to my father. He may be in danger, and I’m sick with worry just thinking about it.”

  “I assure you, child, Moira Ten Sails can get you home much more quickly than I can, so the delay will be minimal. Please, follow me.”

  A carriage was prepared and they hurried off to the edge of her estate, where gentle waves lapped against a sliver of the boundary, with everything further than an arm's-length away shrouded in opaque fog. The Dreaming Mists.

  Selene stepped forward and delicately placed her head through the film that separated the two realms. Raith could see her lips moving, but heard nothing. She stepped back and waited quietly.

  Just as Raith was about to ask if this unseelie fae was coming, he saw a massive shape approaching in the fog. It was speeding towards them at an alarming rate, growing larger with each second. There was no way it would be able to stop before crashing through the flimsy barrier and crushing them all. The only thing stopping Raith from shouting a warning and running for his life was the Warden of Borders, standing serenely before the thing bearing down on them.

  Moments later, the form coalesced from the mists into a massive ship with sails full from some unseen wind. It spun abruptly, far more agile than a vessel that large had any right to be, coming about and slowing to a stop parallel to the boundary. A gangplank extended from the deck above, crashing recklessly to the ground mere feet from the Countess. She was again unperturbed.

  A woman wearing well worn sailor’s clothes and tall black boots appeared at the top of the gangplank and began making her way down with predatory grace. She was hunched forward at the shoulders, with a leathery reddish-brown face, two sharp incisors poking down beyond her lip, and amber cat-like eyes that seemed to see too much. There was something ancient about her that made Raith deeply uneasy.

  Selene nodded curtly.

  “Moira, thank you for coming.”

  Moira frowned. “Why have you summoned me, Selene?”

  “I think you need to hear what this human has to say. He may have a bargain that could aid you in your quest.”

  The pirate’s frown melted into a considering expression.

  “Is that so? Well then, what have you got, boy?”

  Raith glanced to Selene, who gave him a small nod. He activated [Life in Staccato]. The roiling mist beyond his radius of influence froze. The sails above ceased their restless flapping. The crew watching from the deck above froze mid-shift, their fidgets halted in place.

  Moira jerked upright, her eyes sharp, and stepped so close to Raith that he could smell her dry, dusty breath. She circled him slowly, predatory, like a tiger testing whether the smallest twitch would justify the kill. Raith stood still as stone until she had completed her inspection.

  At last she nodded. “You were right to bring him to me, Selene. And for what price might he ask in return for knowledge of this power?”

  Selene inclined her head toward Raith again, signaling it was his turn to speak. He swallowed thickly before addressing the fearsome woman.

  “I possess another [Skill] that weaves a library from my own mind and the Dreaming. It was suggested that, with a mirror attuned to the gossamer paths, I could link that inner space to the outside world and grant others entry, much as your ship traverses the realms.”

  Moira nodded thoughtfully, brows furrowing.

  “Aye, it might be possible. But for that, you’ll need a power source.”

  Eagerly, Raith reached into his satchel and drew forth the aethercore. The head-sized sphere of crackling light flared in his grasp. First the ship itself, and then the people standing on it began to blur and shudder. Wood groaned under unseen pressure. The sound rose to a deafening pitch, and a gale of wind roared through the deck. In a panic, Raith stuffed the core back into his satchel.

  The chaos stopped at once. The group staggered, catching their breath.

  Moira glared.

  “My ship doesn’t care much for divine magics. Keep that cursed thing put away.” Her glare softened and she added, “But you seem to have the power source handled. I believe we can come to an Accord. You all have my leave to come aboard.” She began back up the plank, calling back over her shoulder. “This balances our scales, Selene. Your debt is paid.”

  Raith whirled to the Countess.

  “Wait, I thought you were helping me. This is just to pay off some debt?”

  The sidhe did not look remotely abashed at the question. If anything she looked irritated.

  “I am helping you, don’t be a child. Things may serve more than one purpose, indeed they usually do. Now listen closely, I caution you to show proper respect and not to underestimate Moira's power. She could have been the queen of the Unseelie court in ages past, were she not so obsessed with her quest.”

  “What exactly is her quest?” Raith whispered.

  Somehow from the top of the gangplank, Moira overheard and shouted down.

  “It's no secret, lad. A thrice cursed god stole what's mine, and now it's locked up in his damnable tower. I intend to sail into the past where I can steal it back." A fierce grin, almost a baring of teeth, crossed her face. "And you can be sure he hasn't known a moment's peace in that tower because he knows Moira Ten Sails is coming for him.”

  The Myth Seekers joined the fearsome woman on the deck of the ship. Her crew was not so different than the residents of the Hollow Earl’s castle, only wearing pirate garb and considerably more dangerous looking. Raith tried to ignore their stares as he addressed his host.

  “We need passage to Beckhaven while we conduct our business.”

  She gave him a long look before offering a curt nod. Raith jumped as she bellowed.

  “Set sail for Beckhaven of the mortal realm!” She pointed a taloned finger at Raith. “You. Come with me. And you two, stay out of the crew’s way.”

  “Wait, will they be safe here?”

  “My boys know that anyone who touches a guest will be taking a short walk into the Maw. Your friends will be safe.”

  Raith had no idea what the Maw was and didn’t care to ask. He looked at Thea and Nyhm. The satyr gave him a nod of encouragement.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  Moira led him across the deck to the Captain’s quarters. A surprisingly spacious room and well furnished, with a comfortable, but practical looking bed and a large table on one side. She pointed to a spot in the center of the room.

  “Stand there and activate your power.”

  Raith complied, activating [Staccato] while she rummaged around in a cabinet.

  “Aha,” she declared, turning back with a glass prism about two hands long. Holding it up to her eyes, she peered at him, then around to room.

  “How long…”

  “Shut your trap while I’m working.”

  Raith shut his trap, and she turned the strange prism to examine him though a different side. He stood there for what felt like countless hours with the slightly terrifying fae. She pulled out a series of strange items to examine him, studying his pattern with care, tracing along the edges, then returning again and again to a cabinet to procure a different item.

  At least none of it is painful.

  At last she nodded, satisfied.

  “Those thrice-cursed Weavers may have locked up my prize in a damned tower, but they’re a clever pair, I’ll give them that much.” She tapped her lip, thinking. “I can see now how to spin the Dreaming to make things stop altogether. Even if I can’t turn it back, it’s only a matter of finding the trick to make it move the opposite direction. You’ve helped me a great deal, lad. More progress than I've made in centuries. Now for my end of the bargain." She cracked her knuckles and gave a wink. "Let’s figure out this library of yours.”