adulation we can get. If the season is bad enough, I'll send them up every night until the worst days have passed."
"What do you want me to do, though?"
The Morrigan smiled. "Now we come to it. Your sister has been a busy girl, as I'm sure you know. She appealed to us on your behalf, asking for medicines and cures, which we were only too happy to provide. It's easy enough to mix the medicines you need. All we ask is that you help us in our endeavor for applause."
I didn't ask what the point of applause was or how she even knew that I could play. Instead, what came out of my mouth was dazed and stupid sounding. "Why is it important to make them happy?"
The Morrigan ripped out another clump of hair. "They're better at loving us when they're happy."
I was beginning to get the feeling we were just going around in circles. "What does it mean, love us? How can they love you? They don't even believe you exist."
"They have to love because otherwise, they fear and they hate, and we'll all spiral down in one long decline. They'll hunt us--they've done it before. If we don't keep the peace, they kill us."
I knew that was the truth. All my daily concerns and everything that defined my life--it all came back to what had been done to Kellan Caury.
The Morrigan scowled and it made her look terrifying. "They can be very dangerous if they take it into their heads, so it's imperative that they remain placated. Their admiration sustains us, and our music makes them smile, even if they don't realize it's us they're smiling at."
"You live off groupies?"
She shrugged and drew a large, lumpy animal on the floor. "Off their attentions and their little favors." She added a pair of eyes, drew two slashes for pupils. "It's not the only form of tribute, but it's a good one."
"If it's not the only form, what else is there?"
"I have a sister who believes something else." She said it lightly, but she was looking away and her voice sounded thin and high pitched. "She's a right vicious cow, though."
"That's not a very nice thing to say about your sister."
"Well, it's not a nice thing, snatching away children. It makes the town uneasy." She dropped the stick and crawled over to the corner of the desk, peering around it at the main doors. "And it means giving up our own precious babes to replace theirs."
The two girls from Stephanie's party had come in from the long tunnel that led up to the slag heap. The one with the torn throat leaned in the doorway, while the little pink princess skipped around her, waving the star wand.
The Morrigan stood up and pointed to the rotting one. "The family knew her for what she was. They took her out into the hollow by Heath Road one night and cut her throat with a sickle."
I tried to breathe, but for a second, my lungs wouldn't cooperate. The girl was horrific, but the story was worse.
The Morrigan only nodded and patted my hand. "Terrible, isn't it? She was very young. Only a baby, really."
The girl stood by the double doors, tall and ragged. She was running her fingers over her torn throat, playing with the edges of the gash. When she caught me looking, she smiled.
I glanced away and turned back to the Morrigan. "How could she have died when she was a baby, though? I mean, she's not little anymore--she grew up."
The Morrigan nodded. "And why shouldn't she?"
"Because when people are dead, they don't do that--they don't get older."
She waved me off, shaking her head. "That's ridiculous. How on earth could I keep a proper house if I had to spend all my time looking after infants who never learned to look after themselves?" The Morrigan smiled, sounding pleased with herself. "The dead mind me. It's not a hard trick to make them live again if you have the right tokens and charms and the right names to call them by."
"I don't know, but I think most people would say that's a pretty hard trick to pull off."
She looked up at me, shaking her head seriously. "Mostly, people just don't want to."
"People like
"What do you want me to do, though?"
The Morrigan smiled. "Now we come to it. Your sister has been a busy girl, as I'm sure you know. She appealed to us on your behalf, asking for medicines and cures, which we were only too happy to provide. It's easy enough to mix the medicines you need. All we ask is that you help us in our endeavor for applause."
I didn't ask what the point of applause was or how she even knew that I could play. Instead, what came out of my mouth was dazed and stupid sounding. "Why is it important to make them happy?"
The Morrigan ripped out another clump of hair. "They're better at loving us when they're happy."
I was beginning to get the feeling we were just going around in circles. "What does it mean, love us? How can they love you? They don't even believe you exist."
"They have to love because otherwise, they fear and they hate, and we'll all spiral down in one long decline. They'll hunt us--they've done it before. If we don't keep the peace, they kill us."
I knew that was the truth. All my daily concerns and everything that defined my life--it all came back to what had been done to Kellan Caury.
The Morrigan scowled and it made her look terrifying. "They can be very dangerous if they take it into their heads, so it's imperative that they remain placated. Their admiration sustains us, and our music makes them smile, even if they don't realize it's us they're smiling at."
"You live off groupies?"
She shrugged and drew a large, lumpy animal on the floor. "Off their attentions and their little favors." She added a pair of eyes, drew two slashes for pupils. "It's not the only form of tribute, but it's a good one."
"If it's not the only form, what else is there?"
"I have a sister who believes something else." She said it lightly, but she was looking away and her voice sounded thin and high pitched. "She's a right vicious cow, though."
"That's not a very nice thing to say about your sister."
"Well, it's not a nice thing, snatching away children. It makes the town uneasy." She dropped the stick and crawled over to the corner of the desk, peering around it at the main doors. "And it means giving up our own precious babes to replace theirs."
The two girls from Stephanie's party had come in from the long tunnel that led up to the slag heap. The one with the torn throat leaned in the doorway, while the little pink princess skipped around her, waving the star wand.
The Morrigan stood up and pointed to the rotting one. "The family knew her for what she was. They took her out into the hollow by Heath Road one night and cut her throat with a sickle."
I tried to breathe, but for a second, my lungs wouldn't cooperate. The girl was horrific, but the story was worse.
The Morrigan only nodded and patted my hand. "Terrible, isn't it? She was very young. Only a baby, really."
The girl stood by the double doors, tall and ragged. She was running her fingers over her torn throat, playing with the edges of the gash. When she caught me looking, she smiled.
I glanced away and turned back to the Morrigan. "How could she have died when she was a baby, though? I mean, she's not little anymore--she grew up."
The Morrigan nodded. "And why shouldn't she?"
"Because when people are dead, they don't do that--they don't get older."
She waved me off, shaking her head. "That's ridiculous. How on earth could I keep a proper house if I had to spend all my time looking after infants who never learned to look after themselves?" The Morrigan smiled, sounding pleased with herself. "The dead mind me. It's not a hard trick to make them live again if you have the right tokens and charms and the right names to call them by."
"I don't know, but I think most people would say that's a pretty hard trick to pull off."
She looked up at me, shaking her head seriously. "Mostly, people just don't want to."
"People like
Similar Books
