Мэгги Стифватер - Lament

• Название: Lament
• Автор: Мэгги Стифватер
• Жанр: Фэнтези

ixteen-year-old Deirdre Monaghan is a painfully shy but prodigiously gifted musician. She's about to find out she's also a cloverhand—one who can see faeries. When a mysterious boy enters her ordinary suburban life, seemingly out of nowhere, Deirdre finds herself infatuated. Trouble is, the enigmatic and conflicted Luke turns out to be a gallowglass—a soulless faerie assassin—and Deirdre is meant to be his next mark. Deirdre has to decide if Luke's feelings towards her are real, or only a way to lure her deeper into the world of Faerie.

---

Eleanor covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh. Ah ha. That was not very nice." She shook her head at me. "Oh dear, that won't please her at all. She's going to stop all our fun early if you provoke her."

Fun. I couldn't even begin to speak. How could I reason with creatures who thought this was fun?

"Deirdre Monaghan," Eleanor tried the words out; they sounded elegant in her mouth. "I'm sorry that you don't seem to be enjoying this."

"I'm not here to enjoy myself," I muttered.

"Oh, right," Eleanor laughed delicately and the fine hairs on my arm stood up, very slowly.

"You're here to rescue your friend from our clutches. And free Luke Dillon from Her clutches."

Her smile was winning. "I knew right when I saw you that you were a very ambitious girl."

She stepped closer and ran a finger through the air next to my cheek, so close that I could almost feel her. "But I don't think you've quite thought it through. Would you like me to help you wrap your mind around your--your conundrum?"

"Not really."

Eleanor laughed as if I were very funny, and then she stepped into the spotlight. Holding her arms out, looking like a crucified beauty queen with the red stain on her dress, she said grandly, "All the world's a stage. It seems a shame to waste this one, doesn't it? Let's put on a little production. Aodhan, get up, we need you."

Aodhan, however, needed no prompting--he was already climbing the stairs to the stage. My explosive attack on him didn't seem to have misplaced even one of his fashionably spiked hairs.

"Look now," Eleanor said. "We even have props. Lights, please!" She clapped her hands. The sound resonated through the room, and small, twinkling lights like fireflies dropped from between her palms. She breathed on them, sending them whirling to the back corner of the stage.

My harp. I was unexpectedly floored by the appearance of it. They'd been in my house. They'd taken my harp. I imagined Delia smiling and opening the door for them.

"No play is complete without good props." Eleanor held a hand out to me, gesturing for me to sit at the harp. "Will you play, Deirdre?"

I spoke through gritted teeth. "I'd rather watch."

"Very well. I'll be Deirdre." She put her palm to her chest and I felt a gasp of energy pulled from me. And before me stood another Deirdre, but with Eleanor's voice coming from it. "Aodhan, will you play the unfortunate and doomed Luke Dillon?"

"I'm too handsome for the part. But--" and he looked at me-- "being Luke Dillon has its uses." I knew enough to steel myself against the energy drain this time, but as Aodhan's features melted into Luke's, I saw James jerk on his pile of rubble.

Eleanor frowned, her pout achingly pretty even on my face. "Oh, now, that was selfish. You could spare it far more than him." She cast her eyes around the stage. "And as you won't play, and everyone else is out enjoying Solstice, I suppose we'll just have the corpse play the piper."

She gestured casually toward James. "He's doing a good job, anyway."

She clapped her hands again. "Music, I think!" My harp began to play, of its own accord, my arrangement of "The Faerie Girl's Lament." Eleanor sang, The sun shines through the window And the sun shines through your hair It seems like you're beside me But I know you're not there.

You would sit beside this window Run your fingers through my hair You were always there beside me But I know that you're not there.

She paused on the stage and held her fingers to her chest. "Oh, dearest Luke, I love you so."

Aodhan laughed derisively. It was so bizarre on Luke's face that I looked away. "And I you, my lovely."

"I would free you from your chains."

Aodhan stepped closer to Eleanor. "And I would free you from your clothes."

Eleanor smiled. "Truly, it is destiny, is it not? We will run away together."

"We'll do something together." Aodhan reached for Eleanor's hand, but she pulled it away and held it under her chin in a mockery of deep thought.

"But what of my rejected lover? The piper lies dying." Eleanor wandered over to James' body and looked down upon it, her sorrow almost convincing. "Ah, but I know. I'll take him to a doctor for repair."

"What God has made, let not Fey eviscerate," Aodhan noted.

Eleanor reached toward James and began to lift one of his arms; the horrible gasp he made had me halfway across the stage toward him before Eleanor held up her hand to stop me. She dropped his arm back onto the rubble and turned sadly to Aodhan. "It's no use, Luke, my love. The piper is beyond human help. Let's leave him and run away."

She rubbed her palms together as if working hand cream into them, and then worked them slowly apart. In between her fingers was now a specter of a dirty pigeon. "I have found your soul. I will free you."

Aodhan stepped forward dramatically and thrust his chest forward. "Let's get it on."

Eleanor pressed the ghostly pigeon into Aodhan's chest and began to sing again.

To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.

Under her fingers, Aodhan smiled large, and then his face turned to ash. With a crash, he hit the stage and closed his eyes. Eleanor pretended to wipe a tear away as she faced an imaginary audience. "Dear audience, you may find this turn of events... shocking. Why should my love lie dead when I have freed him? Oh, but you forget how old the gallowglass is. And how can a thousand-year-old boy live once he is whole again?"

She turned to me, and as she did, her face melted once more into her own. "Do you see what a fool's errand you've come on now? He cannot be freed, no matter how noble your intentions. Either tonight or a thousand nights from now, his soul is going to hell. I have seen his life, and believe me, he has earned it."

I stared, frozen, at Aodhan-turned-Luke lying on the stage. I couldn't move until Aodhan stripped himself of Luke's form and stood up again, watching my reaction with evident pleasure.

And it was then, when I thought I couldn't get any lower, that I felt all sound and light sucked from my eyes and ears. The curtains dropped behind me, cascading to the ground in velvety piles. Then sound came roaring back into my ears and the light returned. The curtains trembled, rising.

The Queen stepped out from the velvet and thrust the curtains behind her, chin lifted high. There was no doubt as to her identity; she reeked of power and age, though her face was as young as mine. Delicate blond hair shone on either side of her cheeks, held flat on her head by a beaten gold circlet that bore an eerie resemblance to Luke's tore. She was one of those beautiful girls that made you despise looking in a mirror, no matter how pleased you'd been with yourself before you'd met her. Then her eyelids flicked open and two ancient eyes stared back at me. I was repulsed; it was as if I'd peeked in a baby carriage and found a snake looking back at me.

Eleanor and Aodhan bowed low, their cheeks touching the stage.

301 The Queen's eyes drifted over the scene: my harp, James in the rubble, me standing mere feet away from her.

"Why isn't she dead yet?" To my surprise, her voice sounded weary, a bit reminiscent of Luke's-maybe that was how a human body became after one thousand years.

Aodhan grinned at me. "We were just having a bit of sport."

"There will be more sport when she is dead." The Queen looked at me and said, disbelieving, "And you are Deirdre? I thought, when I saw you, I would understand why Luke Dillon wouldn't do as he was told. But you're--" she shrugged, obviously bemused. "You're so ordinary."

The words were so human that they at least gave me the courage to speak. "You were ordinary once yourself."

The Queen looked at me incredulously. "You compare the value of your life to mine? You're nothing. And I am everything. Is that why you won't die? You thought you were worth something? Your story has been written a thousand times, and in every version, you and your lover die."

She stepped toward me, power seeping from her, and I stumbled back from the sheer drowning force of it. Was it true? Was I living "The Faerie Girl's Lament"?

Suddenly I felt a tug on my ankle, and a second later my leg was pulled out from under me, so fast that my breath abandoned me. In a blink, I was hanging upside down by an ankle, my iron key hanging precariously below my face. I jerked my hands upward toward the rope, but I was snared securely in the most obvious trap ever.

Aodhan's laugh carried across the stage and he clapped his hands, ignoring the Queen's dark expression. He strode over and stood face-to-face with me, his face right side up and mine upside down, the key hanging between us. "I thought you would never step into that."

He reached up behind my neck, his fingers too hot on my skin, and untied the cloth string that held the key.

No. Crap, no.

I summoned the dark outside, gathering it into me, intending to push it into his face. Anything to keep him away from Luke's secret.

"No, Deirdre Monaghan," the Queen said flatly. "I don't think so."

And just like that, as soon as she said my name, I went empty inside, like a balloon deflated in an instant.

The key clattered on the floor at Aodhan's feet. And I just felt limp, drained, captive. So, this was why the faeries kept their names secret.

"May I play with her now?" Aodhan's words were directed at the Queen, but his eyes never left my face.

"He's worked quite hard enough for it," Eleanor suggested.

The Queen made a vague gesture--like a teen's whatever--and instantly Aodhan was clambering up the side of the stage to cut the snare. My mind raced through possible plans, but my thoughts seemed to slip away like water, pumped out of my brain by my pounding heart.

And then I was falling. I barely had time to wheel my arms out when pain seared through me-the back of my head first, then my left hand. I gasped for breath and consciousness lying in the same rubble as James. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. And my hand was killing me.

Oh, God. My eyes drifted to my hand and my stomach turned. Driven through the back of my hand was a long nail. The point protruded several inches from my palm, with almost no blood around its base.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Aodhan leapt on top of me, pinning my other arm to the ground, not worrying with the one nailed to the stubby board. He grinned down at me, his eyes bright. His body was too hot, burning me, and his thyme-scented breath invaded my nostrils. I should have been afraid, but all I could think of was how glad I was that Luke wasn't here to see me, pinned beneath Freckle Freak. The thought pricked tears of shame at the corners of my eyes. "I think I'll enjoy you quite a bit."

At his words, James shifted on the rubble near me. His teeth gritted, and his voice was barely audible. "Get off her."

Aodhan told me, "You'll have to wait a minute, lovely." He reached to his waist and unsheathed his knife. "I have to take care of this first."

Okay. This was enough. As Aodhan lifted his knife, I summoned every bit of physical strength I had and swung my left hand--nail, board, and all--at Freckle Freak's pretty face. There was no time for him to jerk away, and the nail stabbed into his cheek.

The knife dropped from his hand.

Aodhan wrenched his cheek from the nail and stumbled off of me. Staring at me, he touched the wound with his fingers. It was no worse than the wound on my hand, certainly not enough to kill him, but his eyes told me otherwise.

And then, bursting from the hole the iron had made, a new, green bud surged forth, unfolding into a delicate leaf. And then another, and another still. The fresh growth spread across his cheek, exploding into beautiful white flowers with yellow stamen, and purple daisies with deep black centers, and small, pink bleeding hearts that bobbed as he stumbled back again. In seconds, endless beauty erupted from the filth that was Aodhan, consuming him with life and promise. He fell back, but before he hit the floor, it was only a cascade of flowers that spilled across the stage, making no more sound than a whisper.

I wrenched my hand from the nail and grasped my key. My hand was bloody but had stopped hurting; was that a bad thing? The Queen looked at the pile of flowers that was Freckle Freak and then looked at Eleanor. "The time for sport is over. Bring me Luke Dillon."

I stopped breathing.

"With pleasure," Eleanor said, sweeping over the petals as if they meant nothing to her. I crept over to James' side, crouching protectively between him and the Queen, though who knew what I could do against her if she tried to kill him. She had my name. The power to stop me in my tracks. A small part of me wished that Luke would whirl in and rescue me again, but I didn't really think it was going to go down like that.

The Queen looked at me, her eyes flitting over the bloody key and over James, behind me. "You aren't strong enough, you know. Not to kill me.

Not to rule Them."

I cradled my hand in my lap, shoulders hunched, and gazed back at her. "I don't want to rule Them."

She shrugged. "Then They will kill you. Haven't you heard the legends? Don't you know what happens to cloverhands who cannot control the fey? Eyes gouged out. Paralyzed. Killed."

Her words rang true, echoing faerie tales from my childhood. But my mind slipped away from her, escaping into a memory of Luke's--him playing a wild reel in a circle of faeries who bent bows and pounded drums. I recognized Brendan, saw Una's smile, heard the feral beauty of the tune. It was one of the most beautiful memories I'd gotten from Luke, the only one I'd wished I'd been there for.

"Deirdre," snapped the Queen, and my attention focused back on her. "You have already given up. Lay down your key and I promise it will be quick."

I frowned at her. Something in her words reminded me of that breathy voice singing the legend of the other Deirdre--the third Deirdre--in my ear this morning.

But before I could think why it was important, the Queen looked at Eleanor, who had returned to the stage alone. God. Where was Luke? Dead?

Eleanor's expression was unfathomable. "The Daoine Sidhe are outside, my Queen." She raised a delicate eyebrow and I could have sworn that she nearly smiled. "They demand an audience."

The Queen looked surprised, but then scoffed. "The Daoine Sidhe are nothing. They have no power to demand anything."

"And I told them that, my Queen. But they said the cloverhand saved the life of one of theirs, the tarbh uisge, and that the law demanded she be given a gift in return."

My eyes darted to the Queen.

Her expression was dark, but she didn't disagree with Eleanor. "The Sidhe are too weak to come here without being called, even on this night. Who has called them? It is forbidden. Who has called them?"