Page 112 of Confounding Oaths
“Stop this,” demanded the Queen of Oaths and Figments.
Miss Caesar shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Then begone.”
And the world fell down.
Titania was a showy creature, but when pressed she could act quite decisively. No sooner had she told the mortals to leave than they had left, the court and the Dancing Hall and the glass women collapsing and Hampstead Heath reappearing between eyeblinks. Back in the mortal world at last, I perched inconspicuously on a tree branch and watched.
It came as some surprise to most of the assembly, although not to me or to Barryson, that the sacrifices were still bleeding and the victimarii still present. Jaunts to the Other Court took place on anunpredictable timeline, and those who encroached on the lands of my people could return to find that no time had passed at all, or that a century had gone by.
“Go all right?” asked Cooper, apparently as used to otherworldly comings and goings as I was myself.
Mr. Caesar looked at his bloody, bedraggled sister who, despite everything, still stood rather prouder than she had in recent weeks, and at his lover who, although he remained on his feet, was still bleeding from a deep cut to the chest. “All right,” he confirmed.
“Don’t suppose you want to give us a hand with the carcasses?”
Under other circumstances, the Irregulars at least might have agreed. Theirs was a culture of mucking in and helping out and their instinct was to be involved with anything that needed doing. But it had been a long evening, and they had an injured young woman with them. So they made their apologies and left, save Barryson, who could less afford to offend providers of sacrificial offerings.
As I watched them go, I saw a single star streak across the heavens and heard the chime of silver bells.
“I suppose,” the Lady said beside me, “that you are rather pleased with how this has ended.”
“If your queen chooses to collect the wrong mortals,” I told her, “it is no concern of mine. My lord, on the other hand, will I am sure find this endlessly amusing.”
The Lady gave me a cold look. “Your lord has had his own share of embarrassments.”
Aghast, I pressed my fingertips to my breast and adopted an attitude of scandal. “Neveronce.As his chronicler, I would be sure to know of any.”
“There will come a time,” she warned me, “when you have to stop dining out on a chance acquaintance with an influential playwright.”
“Perhaps.” I shot her my most endearing smile. “But until then, you know what they say. History is won by the writers.”
But sadly the witticism was lost on the Lady, who turned and vanished back into her mistress’s realm. And our paths did not cross again for some while. Or for no while. Or they had already crossed.
Time does not mean for my people what it does for yours.
Chapter Twenty-three
I expected no further chaos thatnight. In retrospect this was foolish of me, for the circumstances required toproducechaos were well established. I can assume only that my time amongst mortals had made me grow complacent.
Whatever the reason for my casual attitude, it remained justified for a few hours at least. The little band of adventurers parted ways after leaving the heath, the bulk of the Irregulars returning to the Folly while the captain and Mr. Caesar escorted the newly organic Miss Caesar back home.
They arrived at the Caesar house in the small hours of the morning to find the entire family waiting up for them, even Miss Anne, who would often not have bothered.
Frustratingly, at least from my perspective, the reunion was almost entirely lacking in coherent speech. The Caesars expressed their joy at their daughter’s devitrification through a round of cautious embraces, followed by an apologetic rousing of Nancy, who was charged with the necessary but somewhat arduous task of assisting her mistress with her many cuts.
“I am well enough, I assure you,” Miss Caesar told her servant and parents both. “I know it looks”—she gazed down at herself—“rather ghastly, but truly it is good tofeelagain. I could not, you know, for so long. Nor have I slept. I should so like tosleep.”
“Not covered in blood you won’t, miss,” Nancy insisted. “It’s me as’ll have to clean the sheets after.”
So at considerable effort from the sleep-deprived and long-suffering Nancy, a bath was drawn for Miss Caesar, and the rest of the household retired to their various bedchambers. I was about to follow the captain and Mr. Caesar when I noticed Miss Anne reaching her own room and then hesitating at the door, turning, and making for the room where her sister was bathing.
This Ihadto observe.
As I think I have explained many times over the course of these volumes, I have no interest in mortal bodies, and watching humans bathe is no more interesting to me than watching them walk. It is substantially less interesting than watching them die. But this seemed unusual, and Idolike things that are unusual.
In the bathing room, Miss Caesar was wincing as Nancy tried to clean the most visible of her lacerations. When the door opened she whipped her head around with visible irritation.
