All the King's Horses (23 page)

I played with Dandy’s mane, thinking and thinking. Finally I said, ‘No, I don’t.’

Colin stared at me. ‘You want to chicken out? On
Grandpa
?’

‘It’s not chickening out. It’s that every time we muck around with what the faeries are doing, we mess up – like getting on that crazy bus after we told Mr Crewes, or getting sent to that beach, or getting Tiffany into Faerie. And I think there’s stuff going on that we just don’t understand, like that guy with the giraffes. So instead of pushing ahead with the wrong theory, like he did, we should …’

‘Should what?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Wait, I guess. Until we have a theory that really works.’

He opened the gate and led Dandy back to the barn. I thought he was sore – if there’s anything Colin hates, it’s waiting – so I put away the saddle and cleaning things instead of going back to Dandy’s stall, and I didn’t turn around when he came in with the bridle. But he stood behind me like he had something to say, so finally I looked at him.

‘Let’s go home,’ he said. ‘And tell Grandpa all about Dandy.’

‘Great,’ I said. And I meant it.

THE WAY TO
the Gordons’ looked flat once you passed the tracks, but on the way home, you noticed it was a little bit uphill all the time. Usually, it was no problem; but this time we were in boots and breeches, which are made for horses, not bikes, and our horse-riding muscles were sore from not being used for so long. Between that and the cars filled with dressed-up people who’d been able to go to mass because their grandfathers were OK, we didn’t get to our crossing until the 12:15 Sunday express did, though we’d told Mom we’d be home at noon.

‘Boy!’ puffed Colin, waving to the engineer. ‘You know those English bikes – the ones with gears for hills?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Don’t I wish!’

The last car zipped by, and we bumped our bikes across the tracks in the diesel-smelling silence. I was sort of hoping Colin would walk up the hill, but he didn’t, so I stepped on the top pedal to give myself a start, which was a good thing, because I just barely passed him.

‘Let’s leave them here,’ I gasped, dropping my bike by the side door. ‘We can always—’

‘– Not me,’ he said. ‘
I’m
not a slob … Hey! Where’s the car?’

I stared at the empty space, and the first thing I thought was
oh, no! The faeries have taken it
! But then I thought again.

‘Let’s go in,’ I said, trying not to sound scared. ‘There’s probably a note on the table.’

We did, and there was.
Sarah and Colin – Grandpa having a lot of trouble breathing. Am taking him to the hospital. Phone plugged in. Will call as soon as I can. Love, Mom
.

Colin took a deep, shuddery breath. ‘What do you think we should do?’

Before I could think of what to say – let alone of what to do – the phone rang. We dashed into the hall, and I answered it, squinting in the red, blue and gold sunlight that poured in through the stained-glass window, and holding the receiver so Colin could hear, too. ‘Mom?’

‘Yes, it’s Mom,’ she said, and her voice was so
tense
I hardly recognized it. ‘The emergency room says it’s pneumonia, and it’s pretty serious, and he has to stay the night. I have to stay here, at least for a while, because he’s upset and confused. Will you two be OK?’

I was about to say we’d be fine, but Colin grabbed my arm and turned the mouthpiece towards himself. ‘How OK can we be if Grandpa’s in the hospital?’ he said, choking.

‘Now, now,’ said Mom, in a fake cheerful voice. ‘It’s the right place for him; they know just what to do. There’s plenty of bread for lunch and leftover chicken in case I don’t get home for dinner. But I’ll call if I’m going to be late. Take care now.’ And she hung up.

I put the receiver down slowly and stood staring at the phone. Colin sat down on the bottom step and rested his chin on his hands. Nothing moved but the dust motes that drifted through the coloured shafts of sunlight and disappeared into the shadows.

Finally, Colin drew a shaking breath. ‘And you said we should wait,’ he said bitterly.

‘Wait for what?’

‘Beats me. Inspiration or something. A theory that explained what was really wrong with Grandpa.’

‘I just meant there was so much we don’t understand—’

‘– We don’t have
time
to understand! Grandpa’s really sick! He might—’

‘– But don’t you
see
? He’s in the hospital, with doctors!
That’s
what’s going to save him, not a theory we know is a bit off!’

‘So our theory’s a bit off!’ he said, starting to cry. ‘Have any of the doctors he’s seen had a theory that brought him back to us?’

‘That’s not the point! He’s got pneumonia, and—’

Colin jumped up. ‘It is
too
the point!’ he shouted. ‘Because if our theory is even a little bit right, the Grandpa that’s in the hospital may not be the real Grandpa!’

‘Don’t be a moron! You
know
that’s too darned simple!’

Colin whirled around and stomped up the stairs. I thought he was going to his room, but he stopped when he got to the landing. Facing the window, he lifted his arms in a kind of Y, and he tilted his head back so far that I could see the tears on his face. ‘You stupid faeries—’

‘– Colin! Don’t!’

‘– Send us to where he—’

I tackled him, and the two of us rolled down the stairs, landing in a heap in the hall. We
scrambled
to our feet with our fists in a position that would have made Grandpa proud.

But I’d been too late.

Something began to hum, and the pool of coloured light we were standing in flickered with strange-shaped shadows. I dropped my fists, and before they’d even gotten where they belonged, Colin grabbed my hand. Because the faeries in the window weren’t mixed in with the trees around its border any more. They were moving – flying, walking, running – all in one direction. As we watched them, the hum got louder and turned into voices, and the faeries got bigger and bigger as the window crept slowly towards us … and in a second, we weren’t in the house any more; we were in a mountain valley, surrounded by a huge crowd.

It was a crowd of faeries, of course – not the Sidhe, but the other kind. They were all going someplace, but they weren’t making much progress because there were so many of them. Most of them were on foot, but some were riding in chariots pulled by the weird creatures we’d seen the night of the bonfires, and the creatures were jigging and shying, and every couple of minutes, one of them bolted into the crowd. Then there was shouting and fighting, and everyone gathered around to watch, so the
crowd
moved forward even slower than it had before.

‘Criminy,’ said Colin. ‘What a mob! Who would have thought faeries— Oh! I see where we are! And look! They’ve finished it!’

I braced myself against the crowd and looked where he pointed. Not far from us was a blue-black lake, half-covered with mist and looking as if it belonged to a different world from the noise and colours of the crowd. On its far side, at the top of a marble cliff so high that clouds wisped around it, was the faery palace, its four golden towers shining in the hazy sunlight. I stared at it, blinking as it blurred like a reflection, and thinking of Tiffany: ‘
Oh! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful
.’

‘Easy there,’ said Colin. ‘If you lose a contact in this crowd, it’ll be a goner.’

‘I’m not—!’ Suddenly, an idea hit me. ‘They were finishing the palace for that coronation, weren’t they?’

‘Yeah,’ said Colin; then his eyes opened wide. ‘You mean, you think this is it?’

‘Well, They said it was the biggest deal in Faerie, and this sure looks like—’

‘– Wow! Cool!’ He looked at me accusingly. ‘And you tried to stop me!’

I sighed. ‘OK, OK. Look, see that willow by
the
lake? Let’s go and sit in it; that way we’ll have a good view and we won’t get mowed down by—Look out!’ We jumped to the side, and a runaway white bull missed us by inches; the swaying faeries in its cart laughed uproariously.

‘Right,’ said Colin. ‘The willow it is.’ And we elbowed and squeezed our way to it.

It was one of my better ideas. Once we’d climbed as high as we could, we could see the whole crowd: two chariots of trolls who’d stopped their long-legged pigs to watch a fight over a goat cart that had just run down four leprechauns; a ramshackle cart of squabbling hobgoblins pulled by a horse-hoofed dog; a bevy of lovely little nixies wafting along in watery dresses; three selkies romping up the hill in sealskin cloaks; a band of black dwarves marching grouchily in tight formation, with gold chains and sapphire-studded belts.

‘Geez!!’ said Colin suddenly. ‘Do you realize what this means?’

‘What
what
means?’

‘Our being here. I’ll give you a hint: where did I ask the faeries to send us?’

‘To—’ and suddenly I saw. ‘You mean, you think Grandpa’s … here?’

‘You got it.’ He bounced up and down on his branch.

‘Wait a sec! We don’t
know
the faeries send us to where he is. I mean, last time—’

‘– was last time! This time’s got to be different because everybody in Faerie is here, and so if he’s been in Faerie, like our theory suggested, then he’s got to be around.’

‘
If
. But we aren’t sure he
has
been in Faerie. That’s what we were—’

‘– Oh, great! We aren’t
sure
! So there’s no need to look for him; we can sit here—’

‘– I didn’t say that! I just don’t want—’

‘Hush!’ he said. But he didn’t need to, because above the noise of shouting and laughing and singing, I heard trumpets. Instantly all the faeries were quiet, and they drew apart in two groups, leaving a wide path between the lake shore a little way from our tree and the top of the hill. All of them looked towards the mountain. Turning, I looked, too. ‘Oh wow,’ I breathed.

On the lake, the mist swirled and parted; out of the still water rose ten grey horses ridden by tall Sidhe in red tunics and gold cloaks. There was no splashing, and no waves; as they trotted towards us, the water was black and quiet under the horses’ feet, and it reflected the Sidhe’s streaming cloaks against a perfect image of the palace. When they got to the shore, the riders raised silver trumpets to their lips and blew a
fanfare;
as it died away, a cavalcade of horses swirled out of the lake. Leading them was a bright chestnut horse, carrying a rider whose silver tunic and gold cloak shimmered in the long sunlight. Behind him came two deep black horses that cast no reflection, ridden by a Sidhe in a black cloak and a magnificent red-haired woman who looked like a queen. Three stocky brown mares came next; Epona, peaceful and lovely, was riding the one in the middle, flanked by a woman with hair that rippled like a stream over the shoulders of her blue cloak, and a grey-haired woman carrying a harp. As they reached the shore, the whole cavalcade began to canter, and one beautiful horse after another flashed past, each ridden by a Sidhe in a different coloured cloak. After the last one had passed us, the company slowed to a walk and the trumpeters blew another fanfare. Whispers spread through the crowd, and the Sidhe halted in two columns up the side of the path, looking back at the lake.

For maybe half a minute, there was nobody; then Mongan and Manannan appeared out of the mist, riding horses the colour of sea-foam, and dressed in sea-green cloaks lined with gold. As they trotted towards the crowd, the mist vanished as if they’d pulled it away, and a team
of
horses, one white and one black, sprang out of the lake, pulling an ivory chariot decorated with silver and gold carvings, and driven by … the king. There was nobody else it could be: he was wearing a deep purple cloak with ermine edges, and everything about him told you he was like the heroes in Grandpa’s stories. He was tall, with white-blond shoulder-length hair like Finn Mac Cumhaill’s, and his face told you he’d seen terrible things – wars and deaths and maybe even the Underworld – but was past being scared because he Understood. He was past being a show-off, too: his horses were snorting, all set to gallop across the lake and pull up in a cloud of Faerie dust, but he held them in a collected trot as if the reins were threads of silk.

At the shore, his hands moved just a trifle, and the horses stopped, standing like statues. The king looked around him at the eager faces of the faeries and the wonderful, calm expressions of the Sidhe – then he stretched out his arms to the side and said something in a language we couldn’t understand. He didn’t speak loudly, but his voice spread out over the whole crowd, ringing from the lake to the top of the hill. When he finished, all the faeries cheered, and the roar was so loud that Colin and I pressed our hands over our ears.

Finally, the noise died down, and the king
drove
the chariot up the hill between the lines of Sidhe. After he had passed, the trumpeters turned and followed him in pairs. So did the Sidhe – all except Manannan and Mongan, who turned and rode towards our tree through the parting crowds of faeries, their faces very stern and serious.