Claimed by Shadow Page 0,95

that Mac had located among our supplies. It seemed somehow wrong to be using lined notebook paper and a ballpoint to write an introduction to the Fey, but no one else seemed to notice. "I'm not sure my contacts are still there," Marlowe said, handing over the finished note. "Time doesn't flow the same way here. My spies have sometimes entered months apart to find that they arrived on the same day, or on other occasions that decades had passed. We've never been able to determine a pattern.”

"I'll manage," Pritkin said, rummaging through my discarded coat for ammunition. He fished out three large boxes. I didn't ask what he thought he'd need that many bullets for. I didn't want to know.

He had exchanged his leather trench for a dark cape with a hood from Mac's pack and, after a brief struggle, managed to get the golem to accept being put into his coat. It wasn't a great disguise, considering that the golem was still orange, bald, seven feet tall and barefoot, but it beat the alternative. 'Shouldn't he stay here?" I asked doubtfully.

Pritkin didn't answer me, but Marlowe smiled slightly. "If the mage does not bring a gift, he will never gain an audience. Fey protocol.”

"A gift?" It took a few seconds to sink in. "You mean- but that's slavery!”

"He isn't actually alive, Cassie," Mac protested.

I looked at the childlike being blinking slowly at Pritkin as he was buttoned into the long coat. He seemed to find the buttons fascinating, and kept poking at them with an orange, but otherwise very human-looking, finger. "He looks alive to me," I said.

"I'll retrieve him later-he's merely to get me in!" Pritkin said crossly. "Or would you prefer to offer your servant instead?”

Billy gave me a panicked look and I sighed. "Of course not.”

"Then refrain from giving advice about matters you don't understand," I was told curtly before the trio disappeared into the foliage.

Over the next few hours, a number of things conspired to rub my remaining nerves raw. One of the most annoying was the roving roots that followed me around like nearsighted puppies. I was bone weary but could I sit down for five minutes? Hell, no. I had to play keep-away with the local flora while being stared at by the fauna.

A short time after Pritkin left, it seemed like every bird in the forest-ospreys, eagles, owls and even a few vultures- had congregated in the trees around us, along with some small mammals. They made no noise except for a fluttering of wings as the early arrivals shuffled around to make room for newcomers. After a few minutes their collective weight began to bow some of the smaller limbs they were using as perches, but none collapsed. They looked eerily like spectators assembling for some type of entertainment. Since we weren't doing anything interesting, I assumed the show started later, a thought that didn't improve my mood.

Neither did the tension of being able to do nothing for Tomas, who lay unmoving on his blanket. Not only could I not help him heal-if, in fact, that's what he was doing-I couldn't get near him for fear of bringing my bark-covered fans along. They absorbed sweat-who knew what else they ate?

The most irritating factor of all, though, had to be Marlowe's suddenly renewed interest in conversation. He waited until Pritkin was out of hearing range, then turned to me smiling cheerfully. "Let's chat, Cassie. I am certain I can put your fears to rest.”

I hopped over a root trying to curl around my ankle. "Why do I doubt that?”

"Because you've never had a chance to hear our side of things," he said, giving me a warm, understanding smile that immediately raised my hackles. "We would have had this conversation before, but when you came back from your mission with Mircea you failed to give us the opportunity.”

"I tend not to open dialogues with people who threaten to kill me.”

Marlowe looked surprised. "I can't imagine what you mean. I certainly don't want you dead, and neither does anyone else on the Senate. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

"Did you tell Agnes the same thing?”

Marlowe's brows knitted together into a small frown. "I'm not certain I understand you.”

I brought out the small charm Pritkin had given me. He'd never asked for it back, so I'd stuffed it into a pocket. Now I let it swing in front of Marlowe's eyes like a pendulum. "Recognize this?”

He took it and gave it a once-over. "Of course.”

I