connected with his cheek, sent him sprawling onto his back. He stared up at the sky, relishing the burst of bruise stars he deserved.
Heavy panting, his own and someone else’s. The screaming continued. At last One stepped between Cab and his attacker, but as a barrier. She wasn’t going to fight back. His attacker battered One’s flank, but it was no use.
Stalemate.
Don’t protect me, Cab thought. Let it happen. I deserve—
Humans. One sighed again. Skewed sense of right and wrong, what matters and what doesn’t.
Finally the screaming stopped, leaving Cab empty, his ears ringing. There was a crash, Rags sputtering vile curses. Then—
Silver everywhere, an entire dining set exploding through the nearest cottage wall. It hung suspended in midair, cups and platters rippling in and out of recognizable shapes, reflecting the sunlight in blinding, scattered flashes.
Then they melted.
Masquerading as antique cutlery all this time, Cab heard One say, though it wasn’t directed at him. How clever of you, Two.
Cab blinked.
In that instant, the Ever-Loyal family silver turned into a One-sized cat.
38
Rags
Everything about their search for Two had been act after act of misery. The grand finale came when a girl with streaming brown curls and a face like an arrow had dashed up the hill to whale on Cabhan.
Worse, Cabhan had let her do it. He wilted, flopping around like a fish, instead of acting like the trained fighter he was. Clearly the girl was mad as a rabid cat, but did that mean Rags’s ears had to suffer for it? Who would stop the screaming?
Worst of all, dishware had broken through the wall of the nearby cottage and flown through the air.
Flashes of silver. An amorphous oozing of plates, goblets, knives, forks. They wobbled and shimmered over Cabhan’s and the girl’s heads. Rags realized what was about to happen with new instincts, ones honed to the weird and impossible since he’d arrived at the fae ruins’ first door.
The dishware was about to turn into one of the fragments, had always been one of the fragments. Lying in wait for its master, carrying soup, meat, sodding vegetables, letting strangers dribble over it for centuries.
Fuck if that wasn’t the craziest shit yet.
All this time, it had been waiting for One to appear, to remind it how to re-form into its true self. Rags almost cackled, hysterically, to think that the silver lizard was getting an earful about how late she was, how long the silver cat had been forced to stir porridge.
The forks joined to form arms, the knives legs. Three ladles became a tail, while two bowls fused into a headlike shape. More blobbing of silver, flickering in and out of recognizable forms.
Then it was a cat, missing an ear and squaring off against One with teeth bared, its features crooked, still resolving.
Rags couldn’t help it.
He laughed.
“What is humorous?” Shining Talon asked.
“The cat’s nose is still a spoon,” Rags wheezed helplessly.
“Many of your lifetimes of suffering,” Shining Talon said, “weathered in the shape of an iron thing. How brave.”
“Nose-spoon,” Rags countered. He wouldn’t be cheated out of a laugh when he needed it most.
It hadn’t found its way to form nostrils yet, most likely because the cat, Two, was busy protecting its master, the angry girl who’d punched Cab.
“Much of the fae silver was scattered as a safeguard,” Shining Talon explained. Missing the humor, as usual. “Save for One, none of the fragments is likely to be found in its original form.”
“Sure,” Rags said. “Dishware. I’m thrilled,” he added. “I’m laughing because everything is definitely not fucked in the eye.”
“I do not understand how that—” Shining Talon began.
Rags shook his head. Better not to get into the logistics.
The fighting, like the screaming, had ceased. One and Two watched each other, maintaining their positions, preventing Two’s master from lunging at Cab’s throat.
Finally, Two reared up and butted its large head against the fighting girl’s cheek. Not an attack. A greeting.
Saying hello.
Two’s master found her voice. “What is the— Why did the— How did that—”
She didn’t get any further. One nodded and Two placed its paws on her shoulders, swiping her face with a lick that left behind no moisture. Its mechanical tail switched under the control of minute gears, just visible near its hip joints. The girl’s lips parted in a soundless gasp. Her hazel eyes watered with unshed tears.
Rags crouched by the nearest splintered plank of wood, wanting to look elsewhere. He hunched his shoulders and did his best to ignore everyone, aware that Shining Talon was smiling at him.