As the title to this post heralds, I'm no longer setting the stage. This is where the trouble starts blowing toward the fan. The self-styled Viscount of Bloomingshire has appeared without an appointment, and is now explaining why.
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The viscount took the offered chair, throwing its long coattails behind it as it did so. It smirked at Adira and said, “Do pardon me, fair lady, and you, good sir, for my unheralded appearance, but I have become aware of an urgent situation in which your unequaled skills may be all that stand between a hapless mortal and a regrettable fate.”
Adira fetched legal pads for Dad and for herself as Dad said, “We would of course like to hear about this situation. Please go on.”
From the recesses of its cape, the viscount conjured a heavily gilded box of snuff and took a pinch. “I am perhaps being precipitate. Have you ever involved yourself in what we may call criminal trials among my people?”
A mere few minutes ago, Adira had been contemplating with pleasure and longing the idea of Dad’s leftover baked goods, and then a big bowl of hot soup at the nearest coffee shop. Now her stomach cramped with something more like cold. “No, we haven’t taken on any cases of that kind.”
Dad cleared his throat. “Actually, not that long after I began this practice, I did handle such a matter. The details, of course, are confidential, and the memory is not one I often revisit.” Adira glanced over at him to see his expression uncharacteristically bleak.
The viscount nodded. “Ah, I see. That would be before you and I began our association, would it not? I should apologize for reviving such unhappy recollections. Perhaps I should say no more of the unfortunate boy of whom I planned to speak.”
Adira had never entirely trusted the viscount, and she trusted it even less now. She opened her mouth to concur, just as Dad said, “No, please go on.” From his tone, he had similar reservations, but his professional conscience appeared more active, at the moment, than any sense of self-preservation.
The viscount sat back, with the air of one about to embark on an engrossing story. “Has either of you ever visited our realm of infinite ice?”
“I have, for one case,” Dad replied. “It’s a truly marvelous sight, with mountains like daggers and a frozen lake stretching off to the horizon, and icicles hanging from every surface, and the trees unbowed by those icicles, and the sunlight – when there is any – glinting off it all.”
“Indeed, a lovely sight. It is equally lovely in moonlight – yes, day and night do follow each other there, much as in your environs. And there are also moonless nights, where only those with adequate vision may find their way unhindered. There is one other fact, unsurprising once one considers the matter, which you must understand. Fire of any kind is strictly – oh, most strictly – forbidden throughout this realm, with the sole and rare exception of certain ceremonial uses of which I must not speak. Can you, now, begin to guess what must have occurred to require your assistance?”
Adira looked intently at the viscount. “You mentioned a boy. He came there on some errand and then made a fire?”
The viscount examined its polished fingernails and sighed. “That is almost correct. This boy – sixteen years old, I believe – had no errand, and indeed, to hear him tell it, he had no idea he had crossed the boundary between a mortal and a faerie realm. He was wandering home from his sweetheart’s house, no doubt filled with fond thoughts of her charms, and blundered into the ice realm. Naturally, since he did not belong there, he had no idea how to get where he did belong, and could scarcely see where he was in fact going. So he found a fallen branch – ”
Surprising, that a branch had fallen from one of those unbowed trees.
“ – and, using some supplies he had with him, contrived to turn it into a torch, the better to find his way. Naturally, he attracted attention, and has been detained pending the administrative proceeding that will see him consigned to the ice.”
Dad scribbled a few notes, possibly to buy time, before he asked quietly, “Please explain just what that entails.”
The viscount produced a tight-lipped smile. “My dear counselor, the phrase is both literal and descriptive. He will be immersed in the lake, pursuant to a spell that will prevent him from drowning or from requiring sustenance, with a patch above him enchanted to remain clear so that he may contemplate the world he will never be allowed to reenter. This clear area of ice will also allow passersby to see him, and whatever anguished expression he may have, and so be reminded of the price of such folly.”
Adira had little occasion to regret her vivid visual imagination, but she did at this moment. In fact, she jumped to her feet, excused herself in brief and incoherent fashion, and rushed from the room, walking as fast as she could to the bathroom in case she had to vomit. Staring into the mirror only reminded her of that boy, who might soon be staring up at a sheet of impenetrable glass . . . .
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Will Abe and Adira take this case? That shouldn't be too hard to guess. Next time, you'll see where that takes them.
And to read far further than my excerpts will take you, you can preorder the book! If you prefer paperbacks, you can preorder the paperback edition from at least two online retailers, Barnes & Noble and BooksAMillion. You could also click "Want to Read" on the book's Goodreads page -- and if I've got you interested enough, I'd greatly appreciate it.
