Modern Magick

Music and Misadventure: 8

Faerie being what it is, the Vault of Promise couldn't be in some mere ordinary location. There's no Central Bank of Goodies in the lands of the Yllanfalen, with lock boxes and safes; there isn't even a secret room somewhere, complete with armed guards and unpronounceable passwords.

No, the Yllanfalen have an island in the middle of a lake. The island in question is called Lyllora Var, it's literally about fifty feet across, and it's made out of white rock laced with starry quartz. On this island is a bubble of light, and in that bubble of light is — or was — the moonsilver lyre.

So far, so lovely.

The catch with Lyllora Var? It isn't there.

Neither is the lake.

Because this is Faerie, so there's a magic fountain that usually isn't there either. When it is, it's under the old king's palace. When it feels disposed, it is so obliging as to pour forth the waters of this wondrous lake, and when the lake's restored then the island appears.

By the time we had got the entire story pieced together, I was no longer surprised that the Yllanfalen seemed so happy to share details of this super-secret vault. I mean, why not? It's not like we were ever going to reach it.

'Are we at all inclined to reconsider the idea that someone swiped the lyre from this vault?' I said, as we turned away from our latest interrogee. The woman in question had outright sneered at us. Sneered! I judged we were not the only hopeful treasure-hunters to show up with searching questions about this lyre. She, too, had trotted out the same line about the lyre's being missing.

'No,' said Jay. 'They retrieve the thing every festival, remember? Or did, before it vanished. So it's achievable.'

'Wait,' called the woman upon whom I had just resolutely turned my back.

I turned around.

Her gaze, though, was not fixed upon me. She was looking at Addie, who had wandered off for a large part of the afternoon, and had now wandered back. 'That unicorn,' she said. 'Where did you...?'

Having grown tired of the sneering lady already, I merely waved my pipes by way of response.

'Let me see those,' she snapped.

'No—' I began.

'Ves,' Jay said, apparently having anticipated this response. 'She may have something useful to tell us.'

I handed them over with great reluctance, and stood vigilant, in case she should make a break for the hills with my pipes in hand.

She did not, however. She inspected them most closely, her young face intent, and ran her fingers several times over the silver. Then she put them to her lips, and played a ditty of a tune I'd never heard before.

My lovely Adeline paused in the act of nibbling grass by the roadside, and lifted her head. She stared at the woman who'd moved in on my perfect pipes, and the woman, damn her, stared back.

If I was expecting some explanation as to what that was all about, I was out of luck. The woman merely handed my pipes back to me, her face unreadable, and said: 'Why are you interested in the moonsilver lyre?'

'We're from the Society for the Preservation of Magickal Heritage,' I rattled off, feeling obscurely annoyed. 'It's our job to research ancient artefacts.'

'Research?' she said. 'Why this one?'

'It's also our job to rescue ancient artefacts,' said Jay.

'So you came to "rescue" the lyre,' she said, her mouth curving satirically. 'Did you know it was missing before you arrived?'

'It's my fault,' said Mother. 'I brought them here. I've seen the lyre before, you see, and I wanted to see it again.'