Trapped

«
    It wasn’t Fand I was worried about but rather her faeries. I bowed to the lady of the castle. » Fand, your hospitality remains legendary. Please excuse us. «
    » You are welcome anytime, « she replied.
    We followed Manannan to a room of slate and glass. Granuaile’s limp was already disappearing, thanks to the springs of Mag Mell, the bacon of youth, and the plate of good health. A faery ducked out just as we entered, saying the fire had been laid. The hearth glowed warmly in contrast to the cold appointments of the room. Shelves of bluish gray stone lined the walls, and on these rested books bound in leather and various objets d’art. There was an enormous pearl couched on the tongue of an open oyster shell, softly glowing with reflected firelight. Four golden high-backed armchairs with dark blue cushions waited in front of the hearth for us to be seated, and Oberon leapt onto one, considering himself an equal participant in the coming conversation.
    › The faeries jumped me too, Atticus, so I should get to sit in a comfy chair. ‹
    Manannan raised an eyebrow at Oberon’s behavior but made no comment. His eyes turned to the door and lost focus—or, rather, refocused in the magical spectrum. He mumbled a binding and sealed us in; no one outside the room would be able to hear us. Unless …
    I turned on my faerie specs to see what the faeries might have been up to in here. I trusted Manannan implicitly, but he lived in a castle full of the Fae and he wasn’t around often to watch them. Scanning the bookshelves, I saw something interesting on the oyster shell—subtle but barely discernible against the natural shimmer of the shell. Bindings. Unfamiliar ones.
    » Manannan? «
    » Hmm? «
    » What are these bindings over here? « I pointed at the shell. He stepped closer and peered at them, frowning.
    » I’m not sure. It’s not my work, I can tell you. It might be harmless, but I don’t like strange bindings in me own library. Especially when I want privacy. «
    He unbound the knots and they fizzled away, leaving only the shell behind.
    » We should look for more, « I suggested. » I want to be sure no one else hears what we have to say. «
    » That bad, eh? «
    » Aye. «
    » It might be better for us to leave the castle entirely, then, « Granuaile said. » Shift to somewhere isolated on earth, where we won’t be overheard. «
    » I know just the place, « Manannan said. » Not another word until we’re there. «
    We followed him out of the castle in silence to a tethered tree, and then we shifted, following his lead, to Emhain Ablach, the Isle of Apples. I’d never been to this particular Irish plane, but it was impossible to mistake it for anything else, with the ocean behind us and an orchard in front of us.
    » All right, what is it? « Manannan asked.
    » Pie! « Granuaile said, delighted with the scent filling her nostrils.
    › Yeah, but it’s a fruit pie. If you want me to get excited, take me to the doggie promised land, the Land of Canine. Instead of milk and honey, there’s steak and kidney. ‹
    » Pie is the problem? « The Irish god of the sea looked lost.
    » No, that’s not the problem, « I clarified. » Manannan, we were set upon by a band of assassins on Mount Olympus. «
    » A band? «
    » Yewmen and some others. They meant to kill us. They poisoned a steak and left it for my hound. They interrupted the binding of my apprentice. And they’re working with the Svartálfar. «
    We recounted the whole harrowing tale and watched storms form on Manannan’s face.
    » Ye can be sure I will investigate, « he said.
    » That is kind of you, « I replied. » But mightn’t you have any ideas now about who’s responsible? «
    Manannan sighed. » Ye haven’t been keeping up with the Court, that’s sure, « he said. » These days it could be almost any faery ye point to. «
    I frowned. » Am I that out of favor? «
    » I’m afraid ye are. And ye did yourself no favors a while back with your audience. Now that Aenghus Óg is dead and most of his lot have been cleared out, Brighid is living in brickshittin’ fear of a coup attempt by the Morrigan « —he suddenly balled his fist under my nose and shook it, his blue eyes promising pain— » and I’ll crush your scrotum if ye ever suggest I said that, am I clear? «
    I gulped. » Very well. I shan’t speak a word of it. «
    His fist returned to his side. » Good. Now, what ye have to understand is, there are plenty of Fae in