Page 64 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part Two

CHAPTER FOURTEEN The Shadhavar’s Horn

I had no way of knowing whether the case slated for the afternoon would be long or short, but I needed to prepare for either. It’s a fact of metabolism that I get sleepy after lunch. Add that to the mistake of eating an extraordinarily wide noodle stroganoff with rib meat that melted in my mouth, and you might be looking at the embarrassment of having a magistrate fall asleep when she’s supposed to be solemnly presiding over Samhain Court.

This typical tendency of a physical lull after lunch was exacerbated by the fact that I’d refused to admit to anyone that my vigor wasn’t fully recovered. I suspected that Keir suspected, but he was far too supportive to call me out on a fib when I’m trying to save face.

There was nothing I could do, but try to counteract noodle-snooze effect with an energy drink, but a judge hopped up on monsterade wasn’t the standard I held for my court. So, I proposed the first thing that came to mind. Hiding it and sneaking sips.

Good old Hengest located Evie entertaining some fae in the Irish section. He pulled her aside to a semi-private alcove, explained my situation in hushed whispers, and returned with a cold Redwing in a plain, unmarked, black koozie, which he left at my station on the bench so that I wouldn’t be carrying it when I entered the courtroom.

Thank you, Hengest. Thank you, Evie.

Max was at the plaintiff’s table. Alone.

I was beginning to see the pattern. Maxfield Pterson was lead counsel for the Bureau. When he thought one of his less experienced associates could handle a case, he chose to take the mentor chair and be available if necessary. But if he saw the case as tricky or crucial, he took personal responsibility.

Recognizing this pattern gave me some insight into the importance the Bureau placed on a case before a word was ever spoken.

I’d read the brief on the case, of course.

A fae merchant had lived for hundreds of years without doing much besides building his business, which was jewelry trading. In the world of fae, jewelry was priced not according to the rarity of the gems or metals, or even the workmanship, but rather according to the past owner(s). In other words, jewelry was about social climbing bragging rights, being able to say, “This necklace was worn by the Rhone Countess for her eldest son’s wedding.”

The merchant, Skaresh Farsid, had been content making others happy by trading up their baubles and beads. He’d never married. He’d never traveled. He’d never hired help. And he certainly wasn’t a party boy. He was the sort of merchant the fae social registry did business with. Not the sort of merchant they invited to parties or events.

He was unusual among fae who are lusty by nature in that he’d never had a romantic relationship that went beyond an innocent flirtation in his shop. When he was very young and just getting his business off the ground, a mid-born noblegirl in late adolescence on the cusp of adulthood had come into the shop with her mother. Skaresh fell hopelessly in love the moment he saw Trebeil Aushon. He was able to discern her name because of listening to her mother’s conversation.

As years turned into centuries, Trebeil came to know that Skaresh was in love with her. Not because of a confession, but by his blush, his manner, the way his hand shook, and the fact that he didn’t marry.

She, on the other hand, never kept a husband for long, but she was shrewd in her quest to rise socially and always traded up. Every time she dissolved a marriage, she managed to improve her wealth and social station. Skaresh would never be part of her aspirational formula because he was not among the blooded class. In fae terms, blooded meant those who acquired wealth and social standing by inheritance. Occasionally they would allow someone who’d acquired vast amounts of riches and property to hang around, for amusement’s sake, but low borns were rarely, if ever, accepted as equals.

Skaresh accepted this fact of fae culture without consideration of whether it was right or fair, good or bad. Fae rarely the way their community was organized. He knew he’d never be able to pursue Trebeil, and did his best to be content with her infrequent visits to his shop. Every such visit was both joy and sorrow. His heart soared with happiness when she was close by, but that ecstasy was inevitably followed by a bout of doldrums.

One day, between customers, Skaresh looked out the window of his shop which was small, but located on a street known for legendary chic among fae. It pleased him to sing when no one was about because he had an exceptionally beautiful voice even for a fae. In fact, his customers often begged him to sing a little of this or a little of that. Musing, while he looked out, he’d just ended a song and begun a repetition of the chorus when he happened to see a band of troubadours pass by.

Though many of his kind had a penchant for dressing in costume, there was something noticeably different about these actors, poets, singers, and musicians. He couldn’t put his fingeron what made them exotic. They wore large colorful bangles worn in groups that climbed forearms and had a faint hint of lavender in their dark skin. When a young woman dressed in deep red silk stopped for a second to look in his window, he saw the remarkable contrast between her the whites of her eyes and her large dark irises. That’s when he knew for certain they’d come from far away.

As happens in every life, that moment changed Skaresh unalterably so that he would never be quite the same as before. He was gripped by a desire to see more of the worlds. That desire was potent enough to encourage him to begin immediately the planning of a foray into the unknown.

He learned that, of the fae companies that conducted tours into the world of humans, Good Trek Tour was by far the most luxurious and the highest recommended by past customers. They catered to clients such as Skaresh, who wanted to travel, but weren’t brave enough to wander among humans alone. The tour was exclusive not just in terms of cost, but in their standard of who’d be accepted. He procured an application and set to work making sure his resume would give him the best chance of securing a spot on the passenger manifest.

When he received word, by courier, that he’d be one of the lucky travelers to spend ninety days in the alien world of humans, he was ecstatic. Certainly, nothing nearly as wonderful had ever happened to Skaresh. He would undergo a week-long training to insure he wouldn’t attract the wrong kind of attention. It would take work to spend three months incognito as a human.

Good Trek Tour’s motto was “Be a spectator, not a spectacle”.

His long-time customers, some of them multigenerational, were disappointed that he’d be closing theshop for so long, but he appeased them by saying he was going on a shopping trip to strange places where he’d find wonderful jewelry worn by monarchs, conquerors, and cultural influencers. His cover, conceived on the spur of the moment, turned out to be a very happy accident because his customers began insisting that they be first to see what he’d bring back from his travels.

The demand was so intense that he birthed the idea of an invitation only auction to be held shortly after his return. He convinced his patronage that anyone considered elite enough to get an invitation was fortunate indeed.

Likewise, he considered himself fortunate that his personal enrichment would, most likely, enrich him monetarily as well. That was when, for the first time in his life, he entertained the prospect of becoming one of those most unusual individuals who, through acquisition of wealth or power, or outstanding talent, were accepted by fae society. Once he’d allowed the thought into his consciousness, he was, thereafter, obsessed by the possibility of rising to a social level that would allow him to woo Trebiel.

He thought it couldn’t be an accident that pieces of his life were falling into place to make the impossible possible. He would expand his view of the world by traveling, thereby becoming a more interesting suitor, and if luck was with him, he’d return with a cache of priceless trinkets for auction. He smiled to himself when he realized he didn’t need to rely on fate. If his tour didn’t render sufficient pieces with compelling histories, he would match intriguing histories with his finds. In other words, he’d make stuff up. And no one would be the wiser.

Two days before he was to leave, Skaresh had just returned from acquiring a large sum of human currency when Trebiel came into the shop looking for the perfect thing to wear to her divorce proceeding. He was delighted by the opportunity to interact, and the visit was made all the better by the newsthat she was about to be free once again. Surely, he thought, she wouldn’t find a replacement husband in the scant three months he’d be away.

Alarmed by that possibility, he blurted out without thinking, “Don’t promise yourself before I return,” He wished, instantly, that he could take it back, but it was too late. She’d heard the truth of his feelings.

Her eyes opened wide. “Whatever do you mean, Skaresh? Why would you be concerned with my personal relationships?”

“Oh. I, ah… I was just thinking that I may return with treasures that will make everyone stop and take notice. Something that would make you the talk of all magic-kind if worn at your next wedding.”

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