Strangeness and Charm: The Courts of the Feyre by Mike Shevdon Read Free Book Online Page A

– an ancient looking computer and keyboard had been pushed to one side. A desk lamp stood on one corner angled down so it wouldn't dazzle.
      The walls were covered in notes of every size, colour and shape. Every patch of wall-space had been tagged with stickynotes of different colours, pieces of ruled paper pinned to the wall, fragments torn from pads. I pushed the door open further. They were on every wall, as high as she could reach.
      "What's it all for?" I asked.
      "It starts on the wall behind the door," she said. "See for yourself."
      I hesitated.
      "It's OK," she said. "I won't lock you in there. There'd be no point."
      I stepped into the room and pulled the door back from the wall, trying to discern what I was looking at. Some were scribbled notes, others inscribed in calligraphic letters. To begin with, most were notes on lined paper, carefully cut from the page, but as they progressed around the room they degraded to pages torn from books, scraps of newspaper, napkins, pieces of cereal packet.
      There were random images scattered amongst the notes. Some were instant scribbles, like the moon and stars on a sticky-note, others carefully sketched, like an engraved medieval sun, shining down beneficently. Initially it was chaotic, but then themes started to emerge.
      The phrase, the sun will rise, was scattered throughout, but as the notes became more frantic, the writing became less legible.
      After that the fragments became more diverse with pieces I recognised. The words, Gauntlet Runner, written over a newspaper photograph surrounded by pictures of rabbits cut or torn from magazines – cartoon rabbits, rabbit symbols, photos of rabbits. In another there were dogs of all different shapes and sizes. One section had spikes, nails and all manner of pins and the distinctive curve of horseshoes.
      "What's it all for?" I asked her, where she stood outside the door watching me scan around the room.
      "I've written nothing except this since I came back," she said, "I can't pick up a pen without this coming out. I dream it, I find myself repeating it when I'm cooking, I end up humming it to myself. Nails, rabbits, stars, the rising sun. It's all I can think of since I touched you."
      Her manner was becoming more anxious. Her tone was clipped and she pushed her hand through her hair. "It's in my head and I can't get rid of it, God knows I've tried. I need you to tell me what it means. I've been waiting for you to come so you can tell me what it means."
      She was rubbing her hands together, dry-washing them.
      "I don't know what it means."
      She must have heard the slight hesitation in my voice. "But you suspect."
      "I recognise some of it. I doesn't make any sense, though."
      "Tell me."
      "I'm not sure it helps."
      "Tell me!" She reached for me and my sword was in my hand. We faced each other, her outstretched hand close to the edge of the blade. She met my eyes.
      "Are you going to use that on me?"
      "If I have to."
      "You can't imagine what it's like. It's driving me to the edge. If you can tell me what it means then maybe it will leave me alone. If you're here to kill me, then do it. It'll be a mercy."
      "I'm not here to kill you."
      "Then tell me what you know, or you might as well use that sword before I kill myself."
      I glanced again at the walls. "A lot of it is about me, I think."
      "What about you?"
      "The rabbits – I'm called Rabbit by some, Dogstar by others…"
      "Sirius – that's the dogstar isn't it? I have a picture of Orion on the wall there. Sirius is below it – look there."
      "There's a ceremony with nails and horseshoes. It's an ancient ritual."
      "I have nails – horseshoes too, what's it got to do with you?"
      "I was involved with it, last year. It was going wrong but we fixed it."
      "This is all about you…" her eyes tracked around the walls.
      "I don't know what the rising sun means, but it's come