“I can see the ghosts that are in Fairy?”
“Yes. My people have a reputation for turning truth into lies, but we also like to do the reverse and turn lies into truth. You are now able to see the dead that rest in Fairy, just as you always lied that you could. But a caveat--you can only see ghosts that reside in Fairy under the authority of the Courts. Fairy is not the only afterlife and it would be improper to grant you the ability to see into other afterlives. If you happen to have told anyone that you can see the dead in Heaven or Summerland, I’m afraid that those lies will have to remain lies.”
“I haven’t made any such claim. I have only ever claimed to see into Fairy.” Emma smiled. “I wouldn't settle for any lesser afterlife, you see!”
“Oh, Ms. Quinn please save your flattery. Flattery from your race is common. You called us the Kindly Ones back when Merlin rocked the infant Arthur in his crib. Flattering me is like throwing pennies at me.”
“Then I apologize!” Emma said quickly. “I sincerely apologize!”
“No need, no need. But tell me, Ms. Quinn, what do you feel about your lies now being truths?”
“What do I feel about what, exactly?”
There was that smile of his again. “Why, being washed clean of your sins! You are a liar no more! What do you have to say about that?”
There had to be some sort of catch here, Emma was sure of it. There had to be some sort of trap set for her. But for her life, she couldn’t find the snare.
So, uncertain of where her mouth was stepping, she was very careful with how she answered the psychopomp standing before her in her kitchen.
She cleared her throat.
“Let me just say, first of all, that I am very, very thankful that the Courts have shown me mercy. This is a mercy, isn’t it?”
“That implies you were ever in danger of being punished, but as I’ve previously said, a punishment was never set aside for you. Mercy is very rarely shown by the Courts. It is considered a sign of poor judgment to rescind a judgment.”
“Be that as it may, I have heard…stories. Many, many stories about Fairy wrath, and I am very thankful, sincerely thankful, truly thankful, that instead of wrath the Courts have given me a gift.”
John-a-Doors made a face. “A gitt? Well, I suppose you could call it that. It is given to you, as a gift would be given. Yes…it would not be incorrect to call it a gift.”
Emma bit her lip. She didn’t like that she couldn’t think of a name for what had been to her. It was not a punishment, not a mercy, and not a gift, not exactly.
“Excuse me, John-a-Doors, but you said you are here to explain things, yes?”
“That is indeed why I am here.”
“Then…what would be the best way to describe what has been done to me?”
“It can most accurately be described, in your vocabulary, as a “consequence.” You have received a “consequence,” just as water rolls down a hill as a consequence of gravity.”
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Emma flinched. “So it's a consequence, is it? In my experience, “consequence” carries punitive connotations.”
“In your experience. But you are rather beyond your experience here, are you not?”
“True. That’s very true John-a-Doors. So by calling a consequence, do you mean that what has been done to me is a…neutral change? Neither good nor bad?”
“When you say good or bad, you deal with very subjective terms.”
“Oh!” Emma gasped. “I think I understand now! You’ve given this power to me and it's up to me to decide whether or not it’s a good thing or a bad thing. This is a test of my character, isn’t it? I’ve heard stories where faeries do that.”
“All our interactions with man are tests, Ms. Quinn. We act upon mankind because how mankind reacts is interesting. So has it been, so shall it ever be.”
“So I’m expected to use this power? Is it alright with the Courts if I go on being a fairy woman and showing the common folk the ghosts of their loved ones? If I resume doing what I have been doing, the Courts won’t be mad at me?”
“If by resuming what you have been doing you mean continuing to lay claim to powers you don’t actually have, then the Courts will be rather crossed with you. If it’s one thing the Courts cannot stand, it's humans that ask for more after being given a boon. Ingratitude is very ugly, and the Courts cannot stand what is ugly.”
“That’s not what I meant at all! I promise, on the grave of my mother, that I will not lay claims to powers I do not have!”
“Then, if you mean continuing to show your clients the dead under Fairy authority, then that will certainly not be objectionable. Why would it be? You are now actually using fairy powers. Your lies are now truths.”
A thought suddenly sprang to Emma’s mind.
Now that her con was real, they were fine with it. But what if there was some sort of catch to using the power itself--and what if she was now obliged to use the power and step into a waiting snare? It would be a very fairy sort of revenge if she was now expected to gaze into Fairy--and pay a portion of her life every time she did so.
“Uh, John-a-Doors, a question: how exactly do I use the power that has been so graciously granted to me?”
John-a-Doors arched a sharp eyebrow. “You really can’t tell?”
“No, I really can’t.” Emma looked at her hands. “Do I point at something? Do I need to say some magic words?”
“Oh, come now, Ms. Quinn. A trickster like yourself should know that the power isn’t in your hands, it’s in your mind. Whim is the ultimate source and house of all our powers.”
“But I still don’t understand. What do I have to do, exactly to make the powers work?”
John-a-Doors sighed. “Do you, or do you not, wish to see the dead who are now under Fairy authority?”
“I do wish--”
Emma stopped.
What was, was as she wished.
She saw into Fairy.
She beheld the skeletal remains of a castle overgrown with green moss and white flowers. Upon balconies were cushioned couches whose quilts held the golden patterns of griffins and dragons and creatures unknown to Emma. The ghosts of men lounged on these couches and looked out over the many wonders of a vibrant Fairy country. A giant walked with a forested hill on his back. A dragon perched on a mountain. Lights danced in the shadows of a deep and dark forest of oaks older than anything built by man oaks that never knew and would never know the bite of a saw.
Then in an instant, Emma’s vision snapped back to physical reality. She saw her kitchen and flailed as her mind settled back in her body. She nearly fell, but John-a-Doors pointed a long finger at her and suddenly she was back on her feet.
“Careful, Ms. Quinn. It would spoil the interests of everyone preset and involved if you dashed your brains out on your own floor.”
Emma gasped. Her heart raced. “What was it that I just saw?” she asked. She badly wished that John-a-Doors would create another little pile of calm in his hands but didn’t dare ask for him to do so.
“Corbenic Castle.” John-a-Doors answered. “It is a place given over to human ghosts. Long ago, it was the origin point to a great and spreading wasting that threatened to swallow all of Fairy. This wasting was countered by complicated magics rooted in blood and lineage. This humanity recorded, imperfectly, as the Arthurian legends, particularly the legends associated with the Holy Grail. Because Corbenic was saved, ultimately, by humans, it was given to human ghosts as a show of thanks.
Emma chuckled. “And to think, the dead are pitied. Great God, they live in castles. They live in gardens. They live in gardens covering a castle!”
John-a-Doors shrugged. “It is beautiful, yes, but so what? It is not such an interesting place. Every place in Fairy is beautiful.”
Emma rubbed her eyes as if to shake the last grains of fairy dust from them. “That…wasn’t bad. It was shocking, but not bad. I think I can get used to it. So, all I have to do is to wish for--”
Again, she saw Fairy.
She saw the gardened walls of Corbenic and the content ghosts that sat along its walls and watched the eternal daydream that was Fairy. And again, she pulled herself away from the overwhelming fantastic sight, though not without difficulty. The sights invited lingering. Even as just an image, Fairy felt overpowering. Emma had the strangest feeling that if she looked hard enough and long enough at the wonders before her, she would be drawn into Fairy, as if she was not but a ghost herself.
Maybe that was the snare--that if she used her power too often and too greedily, she would be pulled out of the Earth. But if that was the case, the snare wasn’t so bad. She could live with glimpses of Fairy. She promised herself that she wouldn’t be so foolish as to overindulge her gift.