Hawk’s eyes clouded and he rubbed his jaw impatiently. “There is that,” he allowed finally, grudgingly. “But you could have warned—”
“I did, Hawk, remember? In as much as I could the day of Zeldie’s burial.”
The Hawk nodded soberly. True. And his mind had been so filled with thoughts of his wife that he had put his own desires before the warnings.
“Besides, even if I had thought you would have believed, I still probably wouldn’t have told you. Compelling the Fairy is a last resort. ’Tis a dangerous thing. With the fool’s true name you may compel him only once—and precisely to the letter of your law. The fool obeys only exactly what you say. Were you to say, “I command you to bring Adrienne back, he would have to bring her. But she might be dead because you didn’t specify in what condition.”
The Hawk threw his head back and let out a wail of frustration.
Rushka continued. “Or, if you were to say, ‘Take me to her,’ he would have to, but you might be dead. Or turned into a lizard if the thought appealed to him. ’Tis a very dangerous thing to try to compel the fairy fool.”
The Hawk rubbed his clean-shaven face and brooded into the flames, listening intently as Rushka went on. He sorted through the flood of information, picking and choosing carefully. It could be done. Aye, it could. When Rushka finally fell still, they passed a time in silence unbroken but for the crackle of the hearth fire.
“If you choose to try it, we still have one small problem, my friend,” Rushka warned.
“What’s that?” the Hawk asked absently.
“He’s gone. How will you find him? I’ve known men who searched for the legendary Fairy their entire lives, yet never saw so much as a stray kelpie, Hawk.”
Hawk considered that a moment, then smiled. “Egotistical, you say he is?”
“Aye.”
“Vain, obviously.”
“Aye,” Rushka confirmed.
“Prone to fits of anger and mischief was how I believe you put it.”
“Aye.”
“And it would appear he came here, goaded by such a human thing as jealousy. Of me.”
“ ’Tis true.”
“Good. Then I’m about to really shake up his nasty little world.”
“What do you have in mind, Hawk?” Rushka asked, the faint trace of a smile carving his weathered face.
The Hawk grinned and rose to his feet. He had work to do.
Adrienne raced up the steps at 93 Coattail Lane with more energy than she’d had in months.
“Marie! Marie!” she cried as she plunged through the door, searching for the diminutive Cuban woman who’d become more than her housekeeper in the past month; she was now more like a mother and a dear friend.
Adrienne had flatly ordered Marie to move into the house with her, and cautiously the two of them had settled into the lovely rituals of friendship; the nightly teas, the morning chats, the shared laughter and tears.
“Marie!” She called again. Then, spying Moonie, she scooped her up and twirled the bewildered kitten around the foyer.
“Adrienne?” She appeared in the doorway, her eyes bright with hope. Marie measured Adrienne a careful moment; her shining face, her sparkling eyes. “You saw him—zee doctor?”
Adrienne bobbed her head and hugged Moonie tightly. The cat gave a disgruntled snort and squirmed. Adrienne and Marie beamed dumbly at each other over the kitten’s head.
“And zee doctor said …” Marie encouraged.
“You were right, Marie! That is why I felt so sick. I’m having Hawk’s baby, Marie,” Adrienne exclaimed, unable to keep the news inside a moment longer. “I have the Hawk’s baby inside me!”
Marie clapped her hands and laughed delightedly. Adrienne would heal in time. Having the baby of the man she loved could graft hope into any woman’s heart.
The Hawk hired fifty harpers and jesters and taught them new songs. Songs about the puny fairy fool who had been chased away from Dalkeith-Upon-the-Sea by the legendary Hawk. And being such a legend in his own time, his tales were ceded great truth and staying power. The players were delighted with the epic grandeur of such a wild tale.
When they had rehearsed to perfection the ditties and refrains portraying the defeat of the fool, the Hawk sent them into the counties of Scotland and England. Grimm accompanied the group of players traveling to Edinburgh to help spread the tale himself, while Hawk spent late hours by the candle scribbling, crossing out and perfecting his command for when the fool came. Sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, he would reach for his set of sharp awls and blades and begin carving toy soldiers and dolls, one by one.