Wystwood

26. The conclave of bandits

"I think, first of all, you should know who we are. Or rather, what we are, exactly," Solen began.

Ada watched the woman's nails dig divots into her palms, the flesh beneath blooming crimson. The room was ghost-quiet, and even the beams above their heads seemed to cease their splintering alongside the hushing of the hearth.

"We used to call ourselves bandits," said Solen, "back when there were more of us. But even that wasn't quite right, because we didn't really try to steal or frighten anyone."

Ada remembered the numerous doors that were tightly shut against the landing above. There had been twice as many as the four fae she had met, but Solen's swift and solemn tone did not leave time for questions.

"We are, however, technically considered criminals against the sovereign," she continued, appearing not to notice Ada's cough, nor Lark's grin. "You have the Hounds in Wysthaven, who protect the Lady and work to encourage her... decrees. But then there are those of us who don't believe that one ruler should have the power to segregate a city, or declare that magic is a practice guilty of death." Her voice was rising, sparks flying from the tip of her tongue and igniting every syllable.

Lark took over from Solen. "We simply feel that every being has the right to live a life that they choose, without fear of exclusion, exile, or death. No path in life leads to a road higher than the rest, and it's something we'll fight to our own end to protect." He spoke with conviction, his young face charged with an emotion older than he should have had reason to possess. "We seek the old balance; as above, so below. A world in which everyone can live. To hell with the Lady, her Hounds, even the Stone Circle and—"

"The Stone Circle?" Ada interrupted, the name stirring bells within the recesses of her mind.

"An underground group who believe that power should lie only in the hands of the magical," said Solen. But her words broke off when Raeph leaned forwards, his broad chest stretching a shadow across the table.

"Zealots and radicals," he said, "and currently no concern of ours. If you're all quite finished with the history lesson, perhaps we can actually discuss the matter at hand."

Solen narrowed her eyes at him, shifting slightly in her seat as Lark's shoulders tensed, but she said, "We need something, Ada, something to restore that balance we dream of."

It was strange to hear her name slip so casually from Solen's mouth, as though they had been friends for years. Ada's hands felt slick and she asked, "You need me to find this something for you?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. We already know where it is, it's just a matter of retrieving it." A faint smile drifted across her rouged lips. "I suppose you can help us live up to our bandit namesake from the old days. We need you to get it for us. Steal it, if necessary."

"Get what?"

"A knife." Raeph's voice sliced through the air, cold and deathly sharp. "A weapon."

Ada's gaze flickered down, snagging on his leather belt and sheath. "Don't you already have a knife?"

"A different knife." Raeph's fingers caressed the ebony hilt that was still snug against his side. "An iron one."

Iron. One of Min's three warnings. Ada could picture the empty collar hanging from the Wysthaven tower, its dusky metal stained darker still from events she had tried not to imagine. Min had whispered of the metal's power to hurt the fae, and Ada's eyes lingered upon the pointed features of the three sitting around her now.

"You want me to steal you an iron knife," Ada reasoned, "because you're incapable of touching it yourselves?"

Fleeting surprise flittered across Raeph's face, and Ada tried to smother the brief spark of triumph in her chest. But his expression soon hardened once again. "Yes."

Both Solen and Lark sat silent as statues, watching Ada intently as she turned the information over in her mind. "Then how do you hope to use it if you are unable to touch it?"

"There will be a sheath somewhere with it," said Solen, eyeing Raeph before continuing. "A cover carved from wystwood, specifically made to douse the iron's burn."

"Wystwood?" Ada questioned.

"Wystwood trees are the most powerful source of natural magic known to fae-kind. Magic casters used to run upon its power alone, and cities like Wysthaven were built around its forests." Lark's voice was slow and patient, as if talking to a child. " Wystwood can overpower almost any magical property, even that of iron."

Ada could vividly remember the forest she had landed in, though the wystwood trees there had been long since darkened from decay. Their shrivelled branches had tugged at Ada's clothing, as if desperate to grasp a sense of life they could no longer recall.

"Then," Ada said, "where can I find this knife?"

Nobody spoke for several seconds. The air around the hearth had again turned tight, stretched between the four of them and unwilling to give.

Raeph's voice was pitched low when he eventually answered her. "There are three fae who live past the wall. They are the current holders of the blade." He paused, the floorboards above them creaking and cinders shifting in the fireplace. "I'll take you there, you can steal the knife, and then we'll return to Wysthaven."

His sleek words hid his hazy half-truths, and it was clear to even Ada that this plan was not his whole one. But in that moment, her thoughts were turned only towards her family. "And what about my letter, and the name that I require?"

"I'll be keeping hold of your letter until your side of the bargain has been fulfilled," Raeph replied, and Ada tried not to fix upon the smile that gilded his lips. "As for the name, you're in quite the fortuitous position. The three fae past the wall know the answers to all questions." He paused, his eyes as dark as charcoal. "If tales told be true, they're said to be seers."

A shiver skimmed across Solen's shoulders, but Ada felt like wax beneath an open flame. "I thought that no one was permitted to leave the city?"

"The Hounds make sure that nobody leaves," Lark said. "And that no danger can enter."

Ada faltered, picturing the three seers living a shadowed existence past the city's wall. But then she cast her eyes to Raeph, the man who had been waiting amongst those dying trees as though his own body had been moulded from the earth beneath them.

Raeph's smile had not left his mouth, and his voice lilted through the room when he added, "Though, of course, there's always an exception."

Their eyes met, and Ada watched his gaze glint crimson as if caught in firelight. She wasn't certain who he was referring to; the wild man she had met within the forest, or the cloaked woman he had stolen from the lyceum.

Ada simply raised an eyebrow. "How then, do you propose we leave the city?"

Their barbed stare did not waver as Raeph lounged back into his armchair. "We're going to need some gold."