Blade Singer Page 3

  "He's mad, all right," the blue one said. "Acts as if he's never seen Sidhe before."

  "Yes," the green one agreed. "It's probably the you-know, the change." It pointed a spear at him that was made from a knitting needle. "Move along now, mad creature, move along!"

  "Uh, okay." Manny was too floored to argue any further. He sank down, back to the ledge below the window. This place just keeps getting weirder. Taking a deep breath, he looked out over the city.

  It stretched out all around him, big stone buildings with steeply pitched slate roofs and little round towers, interspersed with timbered houses with white plastered walls and gables. Farther away there were stone buildings that were much bigger, standing high above the city, with real towers like castles. Smoke spiraled up from hundreds of chimneys, and it was noisy with the sound of horses' hooves on the cobbled streets, the creak of wagon wheels, shouts of street vendors.

  The day itself was also different. Instead of evening, it was early afternoon. The blue sky was lightly dotted with clouds, but there was no sign of the evening storm from back home. It was cooler here, too, more like early spring than summer.

  So, there are pixies and other weird things here, and I'm like an elf, or something. That would explain his ability to jump like somebody in a Ninja movie. But why did that spriggan keep calling me a goblin? He was a rather freaky-looking elf.

  He decided to ask the pixies, turning to pull himself up to look over the edge of the roof again. But when he did, a bunch more of them were closer to the edge, menacing him with knitting needle spears and little bows and arrows. "Move along, move along!" one of them said. "We don't want your kind here."

  "I just wanted to ask—" Several needle points jabbed at his face. "Okay, fine," Manny said hurriedly, lowering himself down again as the pixies brandished their weapons.

  Back on the ledge, Manny took a deep breath. It was all too strange. If he wasn't crazy and this wasn't a dream, he was really in a different world. He'd read books, seen movies and TV shows about people being sent to strange fantasy places through closets, mirrors, and holes in the ground. But those are just stories.

  Maybe they weren't just stories.

  He had been a little scared of El Chango and the other bullies at his school. But he was beginning to realize there might be whole dimensions of scared that he hadn't known existed. But it was exciting, too. A different world, with magical creatures. It was scary, but also kind of awesome.

  The only thing he could think of to do was look around, check out the city, see if there was anything that could make sense of all this. It was clear he wasn't Manny Boreaux anymore. He was someone else entirely. Maybe he could figure out where his new self lived and find somebody there who could help him or at the very least tell him where he was.

  Having a plan, even if it was a vague one, made him feel less helpless, more like he knew what he was doing. He walked along the ledge, balancing easily, and jumped lightly down to the next gabled roof. This one was free of pixies, though flowers grew in the nooks and crannies between the shingles. Climbing to the peak and then sliding down, Manny heard loud voices ahead and ducked instinctively, then eased forward to look down into the alley that ran along the side of the house.

  There were three men below, facing down a little wrinkled brown man with a big nose. He looked like Gunthar, the club-wielding spriggan, except this creature was dressed in muted colors, wasn't as muscled and broad, and he didn't look anywhere near as mean. He was glaring up at the human men, angry and scared.

  One of the men said impatiently, "Come on, Moret, just pay the price. You filthy Sidhe are all liars and cheats. We know you've got hidden gold."

  "Do I look like I have hidden gold?" The little man waved his arms in frustration. "Why would I sell tin if I had gold? You humans are the ones with all the—"

  The words cut off abruptly as one of the men backhanded him across the face.

  Manny jerked back from the edge of the roof, his heart pounding. The casual violence of it made his stomach hurt, reminded him that he could have gotten beaten up in the street if he hadn't escaped, over money he hadn't stolen. He had to remember this place might be exciting and magical but it was also dangerous, in a very real way that could involve broken bones and other unpleasant things.

  A low grumbly voice said, "Humans, they're all alike."

  "Huh?" Manny flinched away. There was something — someone — sitting nearby on the roof. It was a mottled gray color, fading into the slate shingles, with rough knobby skin. It looked like a rock with arms and legs, and two small dark eyes. "Did you just say something?"

  It nodded. "I said you can't trust 'em, and if you're caught eating 'em, you're the one gets blamed."

  "Uh, yeah, sure." Manny edged away, heading for the far side of the roof. He didn't know what that thing was, and he didn't want to know. The house was backed by another narrow alley, and he crouched and made the leap to the next roof easily.

  From there he had a good view of a major street, much wider than the one he had been on before. It looked about the same, except that there were more well-dressed people. The men wore short breeches and boots, or shoes and white stockings, with doublets and lace collars and big feathered hats, just like in the Musketeer movies. The women wore long dresses with big skirts, carefully holding them up to keep the fabric from brushing against the dirty cobbles. Two hulking trows passed by, city sentries like the one who had chased him.

  There were poor people, too, wearing rougher clothes of brown or gray or other dull colors, walking along, pushing handcarts, or carrying other burdens, sweeping the street, selling things out of wooden cases they carried slung over their shoulders. But most of them weren't human. They had green or gray or brown skin, pointed ears, were way too short or way too tall. Sidhe. The pixies and the men in the street had both used the word. The name did seem strangely familiar. There were humans who looked poor, too, and a few obviously rich people who weren't human, but most of the Sidhe looked like they had all the bad jobs.

  Great, Manny thought sourly, putting that together with what he had seen in the alley, and what the creepy rock thing had said. What if I really am a thief here? Which probably meant there was no one living with him, no elf-people like Licha and Beto. No home to go to. That thought made his skin go cold.

  He watched for a while, but he couldn't hear much talking over the noise of the wagons. I can't stay up here if I'm going to find out what this place is and what happened to me. But so far the rooftops had been safe and he was reluctant to leave them. At least he knew he could get back up there fast if he had to.

  He found a deserted alley and climbed down onto the roof of a small wooden shed, then dropped the rest of the way to the muddy cobbles. The smell was much worse down here at street level; wincing at it, he followed the alley out to the street, and cautiously joined the crowd.

  He walked, keeping his head down, his shoulders hunching involuntarily. But none of the busy passers-by paid any attention to him, so after a while he started to relax. He passed a kid mopping the steps of an expensive stone house, a kid who looked like a miniature version of Moret, the Sidhe in the alley. Brownies, they're brownies, Manny thought suddenly, not sure where the knowledge had come from. He was looking around, trying to think of the names for the other types of Sidhe, when the street turned into a wide open square filled with little market stalls.

  There were all kinds of things for sale: bolts of fabric, polished cooking pots, baskets of fruit, vegetables, loaves of bread. Everywhere money changed hands and people bargained with vendors, human and Sidhe alike. Looking up, he saw there were pixies there, too, climbing purposefully back and forth along the tops of the stalls. From the bundles of scraps and trash they were carrying, they must have their own version of the market up there.

  There were also stalls selling some pretty strange stuff that must be meant for the Sidhe, though sometimes the merchants looked human. Manny saw one that sold nothing but mushrooms, dried and fresh, o
f more varieties than he could remember seeing at even the fanciest grocery stores. Though he was pretty sure even the most expensive stores back home didn't sell glowing mushrooms. There was another that sold pine cones and all different kinds of nuts.

  Then Manny saw several Tinkerbell-like fairies trapped inside a birdcage, hanging from the eaves of a stall selling ironwork. They were even tinier than the pixies, with translucent wings like dragonflies, and were dressed only in flower petals and leaves. He stared, wondering if they were prisoners, why the pixies or some of the others didn't try to rescue them. Then one slipped easily through the bars of the cage and flew off, and another one climbed out to sit on top of it. Manny rolled his eyes and moved on.

  He came to the edge of the market, stopped next to a table with trays of buns crusted with almonds and glistening with honey. A short brownie woman with a big nose and pointed ears was packing some into a basket for a couple of well-dressed human women. Manny wasn't hungry; all the craziness of his arrival had made his stomach queasy. But he knew he would be hungry later and wished he had eaten more for breakfast.

  "Hey, you! Get away from there!"

  Manny spun around to see three men striding toward him. They were dressed like the trows, in leather armor, but the clothes beneath were finer quality, and they all seemed to be normal humans. This would have been reassuring, except they were glaring at Manny. Oh no, not again.

  "Hey, I didn't touch anything, okay?" Manny held up empty hands, backing away. "I was just looking."

  He thought they would lose interest if he moved on, but as he turned away a big hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back around. "Hey—!"

  The sentry shook him like a rag doll. "You little scum, you keep away from here."

  At the pastry table, the human women were staring, startled, and the brownie woman looked alarmed, but no one was saying, "Let that kid go!" or looked likely to.

  "Take it easy, will you? I'm just trying to find other elves like me—" Manny started to explain.

  But the man drew back a fist, and Manny reacted instinctively, kicking him in the kneecap and wrenching away. The sentry let go with a curse and Manny staggered back. Grabbing the chance to escape, he ran.

  Bolting between the stalls, Manny heard shouts and the crashes of heavy bodies slamming into boxes and tables and other people. The sentries were right behind him.

  He spotted a street leading off through a tall archway between buildings, and dashed for it. Running lightly over the dirty cobbles, he glanced back to see if the men had followed him.

  He slammed into someone, bounced off and nearly fell, but strong hands caught his shoulders, holding him up. Manny heard the sentries pounding down the alley behind him and gasped, "I gotta go! They're after me—"

  A voice, dry with contempt, said, "What brave sentries, only three of you to take on this fearsome creature."

  It was a familiar voice.

  Manny stared up at the man who had caught him, his jaw dropping in astonishment. He was tall and slender, dressed just like a cavalier, in a dark doublet and breeches, boots, lace collar, and a wide-brimmed feathered hat. He also wore a forest green tabard with a big gold triskelion embroidered on the chest.

  But the man's face... They were the same handsome features, the familiar dirty blond hair, those instantly recognizable pale blue eyes.

  "Dad!" Manny gasped, and threw his arms around the cavalier.

  Chapter Five

  Manny smiled up at his father. "Dad, what are you doing here?" Then realized his father had pointed ears. Holy crap, he's an elf! Wait, that actually made sense, since Manny was an elf here too. Well, it didn't actually make sense, because nothing about this made sense, but it fit with the crazy way this world seemed to work.

  "What did you call me, boy?" The elf-man frowned.

  "Dad, it's me, Manny!" Manny's throat went tight with emotion and he bit his lip, trying to stay in control. He was standing there talking to his dead father and he couldn't believe it.

  One of the human sentries laughed. "Have you taken to siring little thieves in the streets, Etienne?"

  The elf called Etienne set Manny aside, gently but firmly, telling the sentries, "If I had, would any of you gentlemen wish to take exception to it?" He added, with steel in his voice, "If so, speak now, for I've another appointment and must make quick work of you."

  The sentries hesitated, their amused expressions giving way to wariness. Two of them started to stroll back toward the street, trying to look casual about it. The one who had laughed backed a few steps away before he said, "We've no time to bother with you. Be on your way, then!"

  Etienne laughed, sounding as if he thought this was really funny, and the last sentry hurried to join the others. This has to be a dream, Manny thought, watching him, still dazed. Here he was, in a strange magical world, standing next to an elf cavalier who looked just like his dad. It was too strange to be real. But if it's a dream, I can't get hurt, even if I don't wake up. I think. The pain sure felt real, though. Maybe it was better not to test that theory.

  With a shake of his head, Etienne started away down the side street.

  "Dad, wait!" Manny called after him. "You have to tell me—"

  Etienne waved a hand without looking back. "I've no time, boy."

  He doesn't recognize me? Manny started after him. He hung back, staying close enough not to lose him, but not close enough for Etienne to notice. He didn't know why this man would look like his dad but not recognize him. It didn't...

  The answer made Manny stop in his tracks, stunned by a possibility.

  Maybe his father had gotten transported to this world, the same way Manny had, but he had lost his memory. That would explain a lot. Well, it would explain everything except how they had both gotten turned into elves. But it might mean Mom is here, too, somewhere. Though maybe she had also lost her memory. Maybe there hadn't been an accident at all. They disappeared, and nobody could explain it, and so everybody lied to me and told me they died. It sounded too bizarre to be true; he couldn't see Licha doing that. But there was his dad. Manny jolted into motion again, hurrying to catch up. He had to find out what the hell was going on.

  Etienne stayed on the smaller less crowded side streets, which made him easier to follow. Manny didn't see any more sentries, which was a relief. Most of the people he saw were Sidhe, and seemed occupied with their own tasks.

  Etienne finally turned down a narrow street that led through an archway into a big open courtyard, part of a large three story building made of sandy-colored stone. One wall had long galleries with archways and pillars looking down on the court, but no one seemed to be up there. Vines potted in troughs climbed the courtyard walls, and there was a fountain with a wide shallow pool to one side.

  Four other men waited there. Three of them looked human at first glance, and they were wearing black tabards trimmed in silver. The contemptuous glares the men gave Etienne told Manny they were not friends. A rival faction, I bet, Manny thought, edging around the wall for a better view. Just like the Cardinal's Guards in the Musketeer movies.

  Etienne ignored the three men standing by the fountain, crossing the court toward the man waiting near the shade of an ivy-covered trellis. The man stepped out of the shadow to meet him. As they greeted each other, Manny squinted, feeling like there was something different about the guy but he couldn't quite see...

  Whoa, Manny thought, staring in amazement. The guy was short enough for his head to come just above Etienne's shoulder, and he had curly hair and pointed ears. He was dressed like the others in doublet and knee breeches, but he wasn't wearing boots or shoes. But the weird part was the legs below the breeches were covered with chestnut brown fur, the same color as his hair, and they ended in hooves, like a deer's hooves.

  A faun, just like in Greek Mythology. Manny wished he had paid more attention to his English and Literature classes, now. He had been more interested in the battles and warriors of mythology, and all he could remember about fauns was t
hat they played pipes or flutes or something.

  The faun called toward the human swordsmen, "It appears you were wrong, Desmarais. Cowardice and a lack of punctuality are not the same thing. However, you still have time to run away, if you run very fast."

  "Funny, Rabican." One of the men stepped forward, a big man with dark hair and big mustachios. "We were about to retire to a tavern, Etienne, since the hour was growing so late." With an unpleasant grin, he added, "Did fear slow your steps?"

  Etienne snorted, amused. "If you think this was the most important appointment I had today, then you're truly as ignorant as I had originally pointed out. I'm afraid this little duel ranks far below matters of real import."

  Desmarais put his hand on the hilt of his rapier. "You'll pay for your insults."

  Rabican the faun swept off his hat. "Yes, yes, then you're determined to go through with this act of suicide? There's still time to make peace and avoid bloodshed." He said this part with a grin, clearly not expecting the larger human to take him up on the offer.

  "If Desmarais apologizes for being a colossal buffoon, I'd be satisfied," said Etienne. "Oh, and for having an ugly mustache, too," he added, tracing his opponent's offending characteristic with his finger in the air.

  Desmarais' hand went reflexively to his mustache, then he angrily drew his rapier. "Enough! Draw your sword, elf!"

  Rabican shrugged and stepped aside.

  "A duel," Manny breathed, torn between excitement and fear. This wasn't a movie, this was the real thing, and his dad might get killed.

  Then Etienne drew his sword, and Manny gasped. It caught the light like a glass prism, a long sharp translucent needle of crystal. That has to be magic. It seemed crazy for a moment, but then Manny just shrugged to himself. If you could have Sidhe, there was no reason you couldn't have magic swords.