Laurel sighed. “I don’t even know what that means!”
“She’s been cast out,” Tamani said, trying to figure out a better way to say it—something that sounded less harsh.
“Like, an exile? That’s what Unseelie means?”
“Not . . . exactly.” Tamani bit his bottom lip and sighed. Where to begin? “Once upon a time,” he began, remembering that humans liked to start their most accurate histories this way, “there were two faerie courts. Their rivalry was . . . complicated, but it boiled down to human contact. One court was friendly to humans—the humans called them Seelie. The other court sought to dominate humans, enslave them, torment them for amusement, or kill them for sport. They were the Unseelie.
“Somewhere along the way, a rift developed in the Seelie Court. There were some fae who believed that the best thing we could do for the humans was leave them alone. Isolationists, basically.”
“Isn’t that how the fae live now?”
“Yes,” Tamani said. “But they didn’t used to. The Seelie even made treaties with some human kingdoms—including Camelot.”
“But that failed, right?” asked Laurel. “That’s what you said at the festival last year.”
“Well, it worked for a while. In some ways the pact with Camelot was a huge success. With Arthur’s help, the Seelie drove the trolls out of Avalon for good and hunted the Unseelie practically to extinction. But eventually, things . . . fell apart.”
It pained Tamani to gloss over so much detail, but when it came to the Unseelie, it was hard to decide where one explanation ended and another began. And it would take him hours to explain everything that had gone wrong in Camelot. Especially considering that, even in Avalon, the story was ancient enough for its accuracy to be disputed. Some claimed that the memories collected in the World Tree kept their history pure, but—having conversed with the Silent Ones himself—Tamani did not think it gave answers straight enough to qualify as historical facts.
He would have to do his best with what he had.
“When the trolls overran Camelot, it was taken as final proof that even our most well-intentioned involvement with humans was doomed to end in disaster. The isolationists rose to power. Everyone else was branded Unseelie.”
“So part of the Seelie Court became the new Unseelie Court?”
Tamani frowned. “Well, there hasn’t been an Unseelie ‘Court’ in more than a thousand years. But Titania was dethroned, Oberon crowned as rightful king, and the universal decree was that for the good of the human race the fae would leave humans alone forever. Everyone was summoned back to Avalon, Oberon created the gates, and for the most part we’ve been isolated ever since. But the idea that faeries should meddle in human affairs—as benefactors or conquerors—crops up sometimes. If anyone gets too zealous about it, they are exiled.”
“To Hokkaido?”
Tamani nodded. “There’s a . . . detention camp, not far from the gate. We send them there because we can’t have them in Avalon causing unrest, but we don’t want them to meddle with humans, either. They aren’t really a separate kingdom, but everyone calls them Unseelie.”
“When was Shar’s mother . . . kicked out?”
“Maybe fifty years ago? Before I sprouted.”
“Fifty?” Laurel laughed. “How old is Shar?”
“Eighty-four.”
Laurel shook her head with amazement. “I’m never going to get used to that.”
“Sure you will,” Tamani said, poking her in the side, “about the time you turn eighty.”
“So why did Shar go see her today? Does he think Yuki is Unseelie? And what did he mean about Glamour?”
Tamani hesitated. They were really getting into shady territory now. “All right, here’s the thing about the Glamour: It’s total madness. But it’s the kind of madness that sounds just plausible enough to suck you in. So what I’m about to tell you, you have to understand—nobody really believes it. Nobody sane, anyway. And just mentioning it in Avalon can make trouble.”
When Laurel sat up a little straighter and folded her hands in her lap, Tamani realized his warning had succeeded only in piquing her interest. Sometimes she could be so human! “Let me start this way: Have you ever wondered why humans look so much like us?”
“I guess I don’t usually put it like that,” Laurel said, favoring him with a smile, “but sure. David says it must be convergent evolution—we fill similar, um, ecological niches. Like sharks and dolphins, only . . . closer.”
Tamani suppressed a grimace; he hadn’t intended to bring David into this. “Well, the Unseelie believe that we did this to ourselves—that before the Glamour, we didn’t resemble humans at all. That we looked more like plants.”
“What, like green skin and stuff?” Laurel asked.
“Who knows? But the Unseelie think one of their ancient queens, a Winter faerie called Mab, used her power to change our entire race—to make us look more human. Some of them think she was granting our wish to blend in with the human world. Some think it was a punishment, for trying to live like humans, falling in love with them, that sort of thing. But they all agree that a seedling who sprouts near a human settlement will physically resemble the humans who live there.”
“So a faerie born, er, sprouted in Japan would look Japanese,” Laurel said, and Tamani could almost hear her making connections as she spoke. “Seems like that would be pretty easy to test. All the Unseelie children would look Japanese. So Shar went to see if Yuki escaped from the Unseelie . . . prison?”
“She’s been cast out,” Tamani said, trying to figure out a better way to say it—something that sounded less harsh.
“Like, an exile? That’s what Unseelie means?”
“Not . . . exactly.” Tamani bit his bottom lip and sighed. Where to begin? “Once upon a time,” he began, remembering that humans liked to start their most accurate histories this way, “there were two faerie courts. Their rivalry was . . . complicated, but it boiled down to human contact. One court was friendly to humans—the humans called them Seelie. The other court sought to dominate humans, enslave them, torment them for amusement, or kill them for sport. They were the Unseelie.
“Somewhere along the way, a rift developed in the Seelie Court. There were some fae who believed that the best thing we could do for the humans was leave them alone. Isolationists, basically.”
“Isn’t that how the fae live now?”
“Yes,” Tamani said. “But they didn’t used to. The Seelie even made treaties with some human kingdoms—including Camelot.”
“But that failed, right?” asked Laurel. “That’s what you said at the festival last year.”
“Well, it worked for a while. In some ways the pact with Camelot was a huge success. With Arthur’s help, the Seelie drove the trolls out of Avalon for good and hunted the Unseelie practically to extinction. But eventually, things . . . fell apart.”
It pained Tamani to gloss over so much detail, but when it came to the Unseelie, it was hard to decide where one explanation ended and another began. And it would take him hours to explain everything that had gone wrong in Camelot. Especially considering that, even in Avalon, the story was ancient enough for its accuracy to be disputed. Some claimed that the memories collected in the World Tree kept their history pure, but—having conversed with the Silent Ones himself—Tamani did not think it gave answers straight enough to qualify as historical facts.
He would have to do his best with what he had.
“When the trolls overran Camelot, it was taken as final proof that even our most well-intentioned involvement with humans was doomed to end in disaster. The isolationists rose to power. Everyone else was branded Unseelie.”
“So part of the Seelie Court became the new Unseelie Court?”
Tamani frowned. “Well, there hasn’t been an Unseelie ‘Court’ in more than a thousand years. But Titania was dethroned, Oberon crowned as rightful king, and the universal decree was that for the good of the human race the fae would leave humans alone forever. Everyone was summoned back to Avalon, Oberon created the gates, and for the most part we’ve been isolated ever since. But the idea that faeries should meddle in human affairs—as benefactors or conquerors—crops up sometimes. If anyone gets too zealous about it, they are exiled.”
“To Hokkaido?”
Tamani nodded. “There’s a . . . detention camp, not far from the gate. We send them there because we can’t have them in Avalon causing unrest, but we don’t want them to meddle with humans, either. They aren’t really a separate kingdom, but everyone calls them Unseelie.”
“When was Shar’s mother . . . kicked out?”
“Maybe fifty years ago? Before I sprouted.”
“Fifty?” Laurel laughed. “How old is Shar?”
“Eighty-four.”
Laurel shook her head with amazement. “I’m never going to get used to that.”
“Sure you will,” Tamani said, poking her in the side, “about the time you turn eighty.”
“So why did Shar go see her today? Does he think Yuki is Unseelie? And what did he mean about Glamour?”
Tamani hesitated. They were really getting into shady territory now. “All right, here’s the thing about the Glamour: It’s total madness. But it’s the kind of madness that sounds just plausible enough to suck you in. So what I’m about to tell you, you have to understand—nobody really believes it. Nobody sane, anyway. And just mentioning it in Avalon can make trouble.”
When Laurel sat up a little straighter and folded her hands in her lap, Tamani realized his warning had succeeded only in piquing her interest. Sometimes she could be so human! “Let me start this way: Have you ever wondered why humans look so much like us?”
“I guess I don’t usually put it like that,” Laurel said, favoring him with a smile, “but sure. David says it must be convergent evolution—we fill similar, um, ecological niches. Like sharks and dolphins, only . . . closer.”
Tamani suppressed a grimace; he hadn’t intended to bring David into this. “Well, the Unseelie believe that we did this to ourselves—that before the Glamour, we didn’t resemble humans at all. That we looked more like plants.”
“What, like green skin and stuff?” Laurel asked.
“Who knows? But the Unseelie think one of their ancient queens, a Winter faerie called Mab, used her power to change our entire race—to make us look more human. Some of them think she was granting our wish to blend in with the human world. Some think it was a punishment, for trying to live like humans, falling in love with them, that sort of thing. But they all agree that a seedling who sprouts near a human settlement will physically resemble the humans who live there.”
“So a faerie born, er, sprouted in Japan would look Japanese,” Laurel said, and Tamani could almost hear her making connections as she spoke. “Seems like that would be pretty easy to test. All the Unseelie children would look Japanese. So Shar went to see if Yuki escaped from the Unseelie . . . prison?”
