smooth. The furniture was built likewise and covered with colored silk. It was most certainly a conclave of the Tuatha de Dannan. The knight probed his body then, determining how much damage had been done. He seemed whole. The demon wolves had inflicted grave wounds on him, but he was still intact.
“Where are we?” Richard asked finally.
“Arendig Fawr, as of two days ago.”
“How?”
“The Morrigan and her fey saved us from John Lewis Hugo while you were passed out,” Bran explained, still looking at the box.
“Oh, just open it already,” Richard said. “It won’t harm you. Not yet, anyway.”
Bran gave Richard a quick look before doing as he suggested. Pressed into a lush bed of red silk, an acorn-like seed rested, tiny veins of silver streaking the wood. Even in the pale light Richard could see it. It was a beautiful object, but one the knight knew to be very dangerous. After a few moments, the silver of the seed pulsed with a ghost light like a slow heartbeat, one that did not make a sound.
“What is it?” Bran questioned, mesmerized.
“A very special seed,” Richard said. “And I bet that little bastard was trying to steal it.”
“I want nothing to do with that thing, tosserpig,” Snedeker spat. “Why in the fires of the Erlking would I want a stupid seed like that one? When I am free, you both will suff—”
“Why were you after this?!” Bran asked anew, shaking the fairy again.
“I just wanted to see it!” the fey screamed. “Not steal it!”
“Why did you want to see it?” the boy asked. “Tell me! Or so help me I’ll feed you to the closest dog I can find.”
“I will kill any flea-bitten mongrel you send at me, including you!”
Bran shook the fairy with more vehemence. Richard withheld a smile. The boy was as tough and vindictive as the streets could make him.
“It called to me!” the fairy whined at last.
“Called to you? When? Now?”
“Back in Dryvyd Wood, when you were trussed up with the Fomorian!” the fairy revealed finally. “It pulsed magic like none I have ever felt. I just wanted a peek, a peek I say!”
Bran frowned. “What does it mean, Richard?”
“Fairy, I never want to see you again,” Richard rumbled, ignoring the question. “If I do, the only thing flying will be your ash upon the wind. Got it?”
“I understand, fair knight!”
Richard nodded to Bran. The boy released Snedeker.
The fairy flew out the window like a dart and vanished into the night.
“Damnable fairies. What other trouble have you gotten yourself into?” Richard griped.
“What is this seed?” Bran asked instead.
Richard took as deep a breath he could. Long moments passed. A part of him just wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew the question to be too important to not answer. Grunting pain as he swung his legs out of bed, he gave Bran his darkest look.
“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that we could discover what Philip was up to and return to Seattle without Merle’s omens coming true in any form,” Richard said. When the boy didn’t respond, the knight continued. “The seed in the box is called the Paladr.”
“The Paladr?”
“Remember how the Yn Saith received their power? Merle gave the knights their power to have the authority to make difficult decisions without interference from the Catholic Church and its own desires?”
“Merle’s last great act of magic, you said,” Bran said.
“That’s right. It did not only involve the knights of the portals. He foresaw a need for a lone knight, one not tied to the portals, one who would roam free to do things the portal knights could not. For seven hundred years, he fulfilled that role. But nearly losing control of his power imbuing the knights with their new authority in the twelfth century made him realize he could not do what was necessary any longer.”
“The Heliwr,” Bran stated. “My father was the last, right?”
“He was. And a good Heliwr he made too.”
“And what of the Paladr?”
“Do you know of Joseph of Arimathea?” Richard asked.
“I saw his name mentioned in a book at Merle’s store,” Bran said. “The leather one with the rose on its front. I didn’t read much of it though. Had just started.”
“Merle setting your future in motion, without your leave I might add,” Richard spat, his anger making him dizzy. “No matter. Joseph of Arimathea is the man who gave up his tomb for the burial of Jesus Christ after His crucifixion. He was also given the Holy Grail,