Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,9

die if you don’t bray like a donkey and given you an irresistible urge to visit the ones you most want to impress in Mundanus.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take a message to Catherine. That’s all. And then in one month – or perhaps less – you’re to deliver something to me.”

“But I don’t know how to find her.”

“Then you’d better work it out. Otherwise I shall be displeased. Now, the message is this – and take care to recite it perfectly, otherwise your debt won’t be paid.” Sam nodded. “‘Dear Catherine, Your friend accepted my help in Exilium. As payment, I require the painting you promised to me the last time he visited before the next Mundane new moon. It must contain an Iris secret. Your true patron, Lord Poppy.’”

“Hang on a minute!” Sam said. “You said my taking the message was payment, not her giving you a painting!”

“Ah, the painting is in return for not turning your fingers into hungry rats with a taste for your flesh. I think that’s most generous.”

Sam couldn’t reply. He just blinked a few times, trying to drive the image from his mind. “OK… tell me the message again.”

Poppy repeated it. Backwards. Sam’s temples started to throb as the faerie giggled.

“Fine, I got it,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Do I just take the painting to the church again?”

“No. That’s such an inelegant way to bring my favourite’s masterpiece. Simply stand in front of a mirror, say my name three times with the desire to come here and you’ll be able to step through. Of course, should you wish to visit before then, or –” he looked pointedly at the people behind Sam “– bring me other gifts in return for saving certain doomed souls, you’ll be quite welcome.”

“OK. Thanks.” He didn’t want to thank him but he had to get at least one thing right. “We’ll be off then.”

“But how will you leave?” the faerie asked.

“You’ll take me back, won’t you?”

“Only if you give me something in return,” Poppy said.

“Oh, for the love of… If you don’t let us go, I can’t give Cathy the message, can I?”

“I could find another way and give you an alternative compensatory task if you wish.”

“No. No… I’ll…” He looked at the faerie and at Poppy, understanding even more clearly Cathy’s frustration with the Sorcerer and his unwillingness to help. He put his hands in his pockets in an effort to look relaxed and not at all panicky, and his fingers brushed the wedding ring. He clasped it tight, horrified he’d taken it off. “I’ll find my own way out. Thanks.” He started walking as Poppy laughed. “Come on then!” he called back to the others and they followed him.

“I’ll join you,” Poppy said. “A stroll before the wedding is just what I need. Do you know where you’re going?”

Sam marched on but Poppy matched his pace effortlessly. “Out of Exilium.”

“Oh, this is simply divine entertainment,” Poppy breathed. “If only I could bottle it and save it for dull days. But Catherine would be upset if I rendered you into a few drops of hopeless optimism. I have no desire to upset her when I can’t see it.”

Sam tried to ignore him, pressing the ring painfully into the palm of his hand to keep his focus on it. There had to be a place he could get them out. Surely Exilium had a border?

“How long do you plan to walk? Your waifs look so dreadfully hungry. Poor little things. Perhaps I could take them in, I’ll need something to play with after the wedding. I fear I might feel a little upset by the sight of my strange sunlit one becoming an Iris.”

Sam had the urge to veer left. Was that Poppy, the faerie or something else? He slowly changed their direction and Poppy didn’t seem to notice. He pressed on.

“Oh, look, over there is a patch of daisies in the shape of a teardrop. If you can guess what made it, I’ll grant you a boon.”

“No, thanks,” Sam said. He was on to something, he could feel it.

“A missed opportunity is a dreadful thing. I could have given you the ability to know a woman’s desire. Or a man’s, should you wish it.”

Sam shook his head. “Not far now,” he said to the others. Then he saw something ahead: a huge pillar driven into the earth, the grass around it yellowed and coarse. A fogbank hung in the air on the other side