Free Arrow (Knife) by R. J. Anderson Page B

cat?’ asked Rhosmari, when the woman had gone.
    ‘Actually, I believe Burbage is her laptop computer,’ replied Martin. ‘The cat doesn’t have a name, as far as I know.’ He leaned back against the desk, hands splayed casually on the pale wood. ‘And I’ve a feeling she’s not quite sure what to make of you, either.’
    Rhosmari glanced around the room, uncomfortable with his steady gaze. ‘You seem to know her quite well. I thought the Empress didn’t want her people being friendly with humans?’
    ‘She doesn’t,’ said Martin. ‘But even when I belonged to the Empress, just because she could control me didn’t mean that she always did. And I was careful not to give her reason to think she might need to, either.’ He pushed himself upright and walked out into the corridor, adding over his shoulder, ‘You’ll want some bedsheets?’
    ‘Yes, please,’ said Rhosmari.
    Martin returned with an armful of linens, snapped out the bottom sheet and began fitting it over the mattress. It was a servant’s task, yet he did it without self-consciousness – and with an ease that suggested he’d done it many times before.
    ‘You still haven’t told me how you met Lyn,’ Rhosmari said, watching him. ‘How did she guess you were a faery?’
    ‘Lyn is remarkably perceptive that way,’ said Martin. ‘She doesn’t trust her instincts enough to admit it’s anything more than a joke, but she recognised what I was the moment I first walked into her theatre. I suspect there’s faery blood in her somewhere.’ He tucked in the top sheet and turned it down, adding, ‘She would have recognised you too, if she let herself. But you didn’t fit her idea of what a faery should look like, so she dismissed it.’
    Rhosmari frowned. How could she look any more like what she was? It was true that her ancestors had come to Wales from a far-off country, so she was one of perhaps fifty faeries in all the Green Isles who did not share the bland colouring most common to the Children of Rhys. But why should that matter? She was no less magical than the others, and no less loyal to her homeland. It made no sense that anyone would compare her to Martin, and think she was not a true faery.
    ‘In any case, Lyn is just one of several humans I’ve come to know since I discovered theatre,’ Martin continued. ‘Most of my acquaintances are in London, where there are hundreds of acting troupes, and a play is born every minute. But whenever the Empress gave me liberty to travel, I took the chance to broaden my horizons.’ A little smile played along his lips. ‘And I have to admit that of all the theatres I’ve visited, this little place is my favourite.’
    Rhosmari gazed down at the mattress, now neatly made up with sheets and blankets. ‘What I did earlier, when that girl was giving her speech…I didn’t even realise that was possible. I know our people make humans more creative just by being near them, but I could feel the difference. And now I wonder if I did her more harm than good.’
    ‘You wanted to help her,’ said Martin. ‘And you did. But the ability to deliver Portia’s speech came from within her, not you. All you did was take away her nervousness and give her a chance to prove herself. And it is intoxicating to see your power affect them, isn’t it?’ He yawned, stretching both arms above his head and arching his back so far she could see his hipbones. ‘Anyway, I’m going to sleep. Good night.’
    Rhosmari tensed. Surely he didn’t mean… Of course he had made up the bed, but he couldn’t really think… And there was no way she would even consider… She would just have to tell him—
    But before she could find the words, Martin turned and walked to the door. And then, with a last mocking glance over his shoulder that told her he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, he transformed himself into a tiny black and white bird and fluttered away.

five
    ‘You’ll be coming back next time you’re in