Free Windmaster's Bane by Tom Deitz

steady, his bold words belying the fear that threatened to take complete control. His only comfort was the warmth of Little Billy’s sleeping body against his own.
    The Faery lord paused a moment. “What did the Tuatha de Danaan bring with them to Ireland?”
    David’s face brightened in spite of his fear. This was one he knew right off. It was in Lady Gregory, too; he’d read the section to Alec only the night before.
    He took a deep breath. “Let’s see,” he said, looking down at the pine needles on the ground. “There was a cauldron, as I recall; and a spear, a magic spear; and a sword—magic, too; and a stone that was supposed to cry out when the true king stepped on it. I’m glad you didn’t ask me their names, though, because I sure couldn’t have told you.”
    “I will be more careful how I phrase my questions,” the Faery lord replied archly, “but you are correct.” A faint, ironic smile played about his lips, an eyebrow lifted slightly, but only for a moment before his forehead furrowed again, and his brows lowered over eyes that flashed like diamonds. “Let me see, this is my last chance for a changeling, so I must win with this one.”
    A disturbance arose among the crowded hosts, then. The white-cloaked leader had turned his horse and now rode back down the milling ranks toward the black-clad man. His searching glance barely swept across the brothers as he came to face the other. It was as if the two bright stars in Orion strove for supremacy in the night sky. The very air seemed to withdraw from between them.
    “What are you doing, Ailill?” asked the white-clad man. “I did not think you interested in mortals.”
    “And I thought you so interested in them that you might want one or two to observe—perhaps to plant in your garden,” Ailill shot back haughtily. “Besides, this one is special: This one has the Sight. So I play the Question Game with him, the stakes being nothing less than freedom for himself and his brother.”
    “I’ve seen my share of mortals,” the other observed coolly, “and these do not seem particularly remarkable. But you are correct about the older one”—he pointed toward David—“he does seem to have the Sight; it shows in his eyes. He also seems to have both wit and courage to his credit, maybe even a little of the stuff of heroes. But I wonder at your reasoning, Ailill. Do you really think I want a changeling, particularly one of your choosing? Or are you simply trying to stir up trouble between the Sidhe and mortal men—trouble we do not need? .Might you even be trying to contrive a confrontation with me? Since you know Lugh chose not to ride with us, do you test my authority as his second? What would Finvarra say, whose ambassador you are—or have you so soon forgotten?”
    “I have only your best interests in mind,” Ailill answered smoothly, but his tone belied the words. “That, and our brief amusement on this tiresome journey through the Lands of Men.”
    “Then you will not mind giving the last question to me?”
    Ailill’s hands strayed toward his sword hilt, and he said nothing for a moment; but his white skin took on a flush of anger, and his eyes grew as dark as his hair. David saw him open his mouth, as if to speak some bitter retort, and then take a firmer set.
    “You came perilously close to breaking the Rules on the first question,” the Morrigu noted. “I would be careful what I did now.”
    “Nor, I think, would Finvarra be pleased; he, at least, is a man of honor,” the white-clad man added.
    “I seem to have no choice, then,” Ailill replied angrily, the merest trace of uncertainty coloring his voice. “If it is the will of the mortal lad, I will relinquish my last question. It is, after all, his decision, in the end.”
    David breathed a mental sigh of relief, though why he thought he was better off with this new turn of affairs, he didn’t know. “If that’s what you folks want to do, that’s how it’ll have to