Chapter 67: Strephon Elucidates
In Which the Celestial Mister Knox enjoys a good laugh.
Strephon could not recall the correct etiquette for addressing an antediluvian demigod – perhaps Devon was right; English schools were lacking in that respect – so he simply said, “Your Majesty,” and bowed his head as respectfully as he could manage while trying to balance on one cane. Knox acknowledged the gesture with a tolerant nod of his own, which encouraged Strephon to continue. “If I may ask, were not the Nephilim a mortal race?”
“We are.” Knox put a subtle emphasis on the present tense.
“Then, if you will forgive the impertinence... why aren't you dead?”
Knox laughed. “I may not be innately immortal like the Fae, but I've been practicing magic long enough to have found a few work-arounds. For most practical purposes, I have stopped aging. I am also immune to diseases and most forms of physical trauma. You will, of course, understand if I do not specify.”
“Of course. I take no offense.” So Knox was not invulnerable. That was useful information, although how he could use it Strephon did not know.
“And in addition to that, I have not aged at all for over 1400 years thanks to that traitorous witch, Aithea. I've been trapped here, bound in hawthorn and entombed in stone, curse her. The only good thing I can say about it is that my confinement has given me plenty of time to study magic. And to brood over past injuries, of course, but mostly studying magic. This location at the intersection of magical forces provided me with a perfect classroom.”
”But...” something was not making sense. “I saw you at Melchior's party. If, as you say, you cannot leave this chamber, who did I see there? Who gave Miss True her job interview? Who gave out the awards at the Morning Star's annual 'Taste Of Redemption' reader's poll for the best restaurants in the city last August?”
“A reasonable question,” Knox conceded. “You might call that my puppet. Over the many centuries I have learned how to send my psyche out into the world beyond and, with practice, to create homunculi for it to inhabit while my true physical form remains here. Very useful. My range, though, is sadly limited. If I try to send my spirit much beyond the city limits, the signal tends to break up. The invention of video conferencing in recent years has been an enormous boon to me.”
“I suppose that was why I was unable to detect your aura at the party. The homunculus would not have one, other than the traces of magic animating it, which would not look like a soul.”
Knox clapped his hands. “Well done, Bellman! Ten points for Gryffindor!”
“For who?”
“Never mind. It is such a pity that I shall have to kill you.”
This Strephon did not expect. “Kill me? What the devil are you talking about?”
“You know too much, Bellman. I cannot allow you to live. You must die.”
“Rubbish! You're talking like a villain from a blood and thunder novel. You and I both know that you have no intention of doing any such thing.”
Knox chuckled with his Cheshire Cat grin. “And what makes you so sure?” His voice was velvet with just a hint of the razor underneath.
“I have figured out your entire scheme,” Strephon said. “I know everything.”
Knox blinked. “Do you, now.” He had not expected that response and regarded Strephon with a wary eye. “Isn't that an argument for me not to let you live?”
“Not at all. I know your plan, and you want me to tell you about it, because unless you hear my theory, you won't be able to tell me I was wrong.”
Knox stared at him, wide-mouthed with surprise; then burst into laughter. “Oh, very good, Bellman!” He vaulted onto his desk and sat upon it cross-legged resting his chin in his hands. “Please, do tell us a story, won't you Papa!”
Strephon took a deep breath and gathered himself. His boast had been exaggerated and felt far less confident than he let on. Nevertheless, he did have an idea, and the more he thought, the more pieces occurred to him that fit his guess. At least he had Knox's attention and could play for time. “It starts with the Pact,” Strephon said. “The Great Pact between the Queen of the Faerie and the Prince of the Nephilim.”
“I do remember that. I believe I was there.”
“Indeed. I must admit that having been raised by a mortal clergyman, my own understanding of the Pact is rather sketchy. From what I've gathered, the Pact is regarded among the Fae much as we English regard Magna Carta: something that's important that everyone has heard of but on one really knows why. I've heard that it was established to codify the relations between mortals and Fae, and that most of the rules and prohibitions set upon the Fae derive one way or another from the Fact. But the Fae rarely speak of what limitations the Pact impress upon Mortals. There must be some. It wouldn't be any kind of a pact unless it didn't. But now that I think of it, I wonder if the issue was not of how it limited mortals in general, but how it limited you in particular.”
Knox's smile tightened but this time he did not laugh.
“Now, central to the Pact,” Strephon continued, “is the Wild Hunt, the main purpose of which, apart from serving as an ambulatory bacchanal, is to gather up the wild magic of the land and put it under the control of the Master of the Hunt. Who, in happier days, used to be you. So for the duration of the Hunt, you were, in effect, Lord of all the Faerie Realm and of any mortals unlucky enough to be gathered into it. At least until the Dawn's First Gleam, at which point the Hunt ended. Even the Queen herself would be yours to command.”
Knox's smile vanished. “What makes you think that?”
“Miss True suggested it, and by your reaction, I'd say she was right. Your imprisonment doubtless curtailed your ability to participate in the Hunk, let alone lead it; although I suspect that once you devised the means to create your homunculi, you were able to continue under the nom de chasse of Herne the Hunter. And this would have been important because your goal would be to become powerful enough to break the enchantment binding you under this hill.”
Strephon paused. That suggested another thought. “Then the Queen banned the Hunt. I've sometimes wondered why she did that. Perhaps the Queen preferred you remain where you are.”
Knox clenched his teeth. “Go on.”
“When you sent Miss Inanna to have that conversation with me in the taxicab the other day, she told me that you wished to revive the Wild Hunt in order to allow mortals to reclaim their access to magic so that they could be on an equal footing with the Fae. She was quite convincing.” Inanna studiously avoided his glance. “I daresay she believed it. I'm sure what she told me was true, so far as she knew. A lie, after all, is so much more convincing when it has a kernel of truth to it. But there's more to it than that.”
Strephon was warming to his peroration. It was almost like he was a barrister again, summing up a case before the bar. He almost began to stride back and forth as if he were addressing a jury, but the pain which shot up his leg when he shifted his weight reminded him that this would not be prudent.
“The world has changed since last the Hunt terrified the night. The web of Ley lines which cloak England's green hills have since been sliced, bisected and dissected again by rival webs of steel rails, macadam and high-tension wires; and the latter-day huntsman would be lucky to find enough space to hold a Wild Tea Party, let alone a proper hunt. Melchior's 'Silicon Fae', however, would not suffer the same limitations. They could easily pass barriers which might constrain the Fae. But their number is limited, and it takes quarry as well as hunters to form a hunt. The Wild Magic slumbers beneath centuries of technology and neglect. Can even the Horns of Elfland awaken it?”
“All this time I have been trying to find the link between all of the plots that have arisen in the City: Melchior's computer games, the Reavers' silver collars, the Fae Essence drug. They all have one element in common: they all involve Faerie magic. You have been planting seeds of magic in every segment of the City, so that when the Horns of Elfland sound, there would be ears tuned to hear them. Every mortal who has played Virtual Hot Tub, every wolf who bears the enchanted silver, every vampire and his thralls who have tasted the Fae Essence, every suburban housewife who has held a Circle Marketing party in her living room to sell tacky Cernuous masks; they each will hear the summons and will be compelled to joint the Hunt. You will be effectively forging a new faction in the city's magical community, united under your aegis.”
“But only for the duration of the Hunt,” Knox said.
“Yes. Only until the first glimmer of dawn. That's under the old rules. Yet I somehow doubt that you have gone to all this trouble simply to revive the Hunt the way it used to be. When you sent Inanna to persuade me to join your side, she told me that your goal was to overthrow the Pact and create a New Order. She was rather vague as to what that would entail, but I'm sure you were equally vague when you recruited her. I will posit that you adjusted the spell for summoning this New and Improved Hunt so that it would benefit you, and not the simpleton you planned on tricking into performing the summoning. You could edit the Hunt so that it lasts as long as you like, perhaps indefinitely.”
“My, I am diabolical, aren't I.” Knox had regained his sense of humor. This was a bad sign. “But if my plan is to resurrect the Wild Hunt, why have I not done so? After all, I had you at the right place to perform the ritual this evening. I had you fully prepared to cast the spell. More than that, you did open the envelope my dear Inanna gave you, fully intending to read it.” Inanna winced at this but Knox did not notice. “Don't tell me you didn't. The Hunt would already be underway by now. Why did I forgo the opportunity?”
Why indeed? Strephon realized that he hadn't worked things out that far yet. Wait, no; he had it now. “The answer is obvious. It's too soon. You cannot ensnare any mortals with Melchior's games until those games hit the market. You at least want to wait until after Christmas. The Reavers' collars only affect a single pack in a single city. You will want to establish them in every city in Britain, and the same with the vampires and the Essence drug, if you want to control more than the Greater Redemption metropolitan area. Your plan has not yet come to fruition.” Knox appeared to be on the verge of giggling. What was Strephon missing? No help for it but to keep on. “You made only one mistake, and that mistake will be your undoing.”
“Oh have I, now? Please tell me, do!”
“You have overplayed your hand, sir. You need me to cast the summoning spell. You cannot do it yourself, because you are constrained by the Pact. The rules of the Hunt can only be amended from the outside. The spell can only be performed by one of Faerie Blood, but not by any faerie who is bound by oath to the Faerie Queen. That severely limits your options, Knox. You need me. But by letting me discover your plans for the Wild Hunt too soon, you have guaranteed that I will never aid you in this abominable plot. What's more – ”
Strephon would have continued, but at this point Knox slapped his thighs and burst into a loud guffaw. Strephon kept his tongue and waited impatiently for the torrent of hilarity to subside.
At length, Knox wiped a tear of merriment from his eye and gasped, “Oh, Bellman, Bellman, you prize turnip! You still don't understand, do you. After all this, you still think this is all about you!”
This was becoming irritating. “Well, it is, isn't it?” Another paroxysm of laughter. “I fail to see the humor of the situation.”
“Of course... you wouldn't...” Knox said between giggles. “My dear Bellman. I'm afraid I shan't kill you after all. I shall keep you by my side and put you in motley and cap-o'-bells like Jack Point.” Knox paused to catch his breath and assume something like a straight face. “You still believe that all this time I've been using Miss True as a lever to get at you, haven't you.”
A note of fear pierced Strephon's irritation. “I would have thought that self-evident,” he said.
“Wrong!” Knox crowed. “I've been using you to get at her!”
This was the last piece, the piece Strephon had been missing; but with it Strephon did not see the puzzle coming together, he felt it shatter into bits and crumble all around him.
NEXT: Five Colored Push-pins