Page 27 of The Faerie Handmaid

The councillor had been right, just as Idhri feared. As the delegates caught sight of them, the racket in the chamber subsided, and every eye turned their way. Idhri wished he could disappear behind Braithe, but of course he was too tall. He felt gawky and awkward, and as if everyone was staring at him.

They followed Emerlyn to a raised dais where a fae woman, younger than Emerlyn, was seated at a broad desk, attempting to moderate the discussion. Her face brightened with relief when she saw the councillor, and she hastened to surrender her seat. Morgana and Emerlyn stepped up onto the dais while Braithe took Idhri’s arm to guide him to the back.

The delegates could still see him, though. He felt their gazes as if they were prodding fingers. He hung his head, but not before he took in the forty or so fae sitting in curving rows. Many were female, but there were a few men. All wore robes in various shades of gray, so that the whole assembly made him think of the ashes of a cooking fire. Their sudden silence oppressed him with a sense that they were, indeed, a banked fire that could erupt into a conflagration at any moment.

Emerlyn stood with her hands on her hips, looking out over the gathered delegates. “Priestess Morgana has accused some of us of interfering with Lloegyr’s king.”

Morgana added, her deep voice resounding from the chamber’s walls, “Again.” Murmurs of protest met this, and a few angry hisses, but Morgana put up a commanding hand. Grumbles still sounded from the farthest row, but most were quiet. “We assume,” she said, “that not all of you are guilty of this deed. We suspect three offenders, the same ones who sent the changeling queen to betray King Arthur Dragoun.”

Every delegate fell silent. Idhri saw how they glared at Priestess Morgana. Some even showed their teeth, a demonstration he had only seen on dogs or the occasional frightened fox. It looked oddly feral on the fae faces.

Morgana appeared untouchable, standing tall in her black robe, with her spill of silver hair down her back and her head held high, eyes full of golden fire. The delegates’ antagonism seemed not to affect her at all.

One of the delegates, younger, with no gray in her long black hair, rose. Emerlyn said, “Berylla, do you wish to speak?”

“I do, Councillor. It seems fair that the priestess Morgana should provide proof that the woman you claim was a changeling was sent from fae country.”

Morgana inclined her head. “I agree, Dama Berylla. Our proof is my own account of events, and that of an eyewitness to all of them.”

Berylla answered in a sharp tone. “An eyewitness? Someone huddling in Camulod, afraid to visit the White City?”

“No.” Idhri startled at hearing Braithe’s voice. Instinctively, he reached for her hand to stop her from stepping up onto the dais, but he was too late.

She strode to the front of the dais, in full view of the angry fae. She looked terribly small by comparison with Morgana and Emerlyn, but her back was arrow straight and her chin lifted. “I am the eyewitness,” she said.

Berylla barked a dismissive laugh. “You, little human? You bear witness against the fae? Taking a big chance for one of your size.”

Idhri braced himself, ready to jump to Braithe’s defense, but there was no need. Braithe leveled a cold stare at the fae woman for a few seconds, then recited in a steady voice:

Is the bull wiser than the dog?

Is the horse more clever than the fox?

Only a fool puts trust in appearance.

Idhri detected the slight emphasis she placed on the final line. He saw Morgana’s startled glance at her handmaid and the slight, amused curve of the priestess’s lips. Berylla bristled, and Idhri thought her cheeks reddened. “Do you call me a fool, human?”

“My name is Braithe of the Temple, and it was one of your own kind, not I, who wrote that stanza. Interpret it as you will.”

Several delegates hissed their disapproval of Braithe’s temerity. Emerlyn breathed a sigh that seemed to come from her toes.

Priestess Morgana said, “It is possible the ones we seek are not in this body, but it is unlikely.” She paused to scan the assembly, and Idhri saw several of the delegates stir uneasily in their chairs. She went on, “We know they are somewhere in the White City, because our scrying has told us so. We will not leave until we find them.”

A man in the back of the chamber called, “Send the human home! She’s not safe here.”

Others took up the cry, but Morgana’s voice cut through the tumult.

“Do you not have a Rule that protects humans from the fae?”

Emerlyn put up a hand, and the shouting subsided. “We do have such a Rule,” Emerlyn said, speaking more to the delegates than to Morgana. “We have difficulty enforcing it, as I think everyone in this chamber will agree.”

“The people of Lloegyr are under constant attack by the Romans and the Saxons,” Morgana said. “They lose their farms and their homes. They are injured or killed, and to what point? They have harmed no one.” Someone began to speak, but the priestess forestalled him. “Someone is magicking King Mordred, interfering with his efforts to protect his people. We have come to find out who that is and stop them. Surely the council will approve of that.”

“You need the human to do that?” someone asked.

Braithe said, “I will go home when we have what we need.”

Morgana nodded approval of that, but here and there hisses arose from the chamber. Someone called out, “What about the half-blood?”