But she was Mab. Always and absolutely.
I didn’t like her.
But I trusted her.
I respected her.
If Mab had fallen, we were all screwed anyway.
And if I couldn’t extend trust for the sake of saving an innocent child and its mother, what was left that was worth fighting for?
“You have my permission to bring needed aid for Justine and the child,” I said quietly.
Mab gave me the kind of look that a teacher might reserve for a slow student who had finally begun to show understanding, and I had the uneasy feeling that she was way too aware of everything that had just run through my head.
“Excellent,” she said in a crisp tone. Then she drew in her own breath, bowed her head, and murmured,“Let scales be balanced and life preserved, that infant may wail and justice be served.”
From the same opening torn by Mother Winter came a sudden sigh of wind, and the scent of fresh earth and new grass. Light grew, a sudden shaft of what looked like sunlight, pouring down from above, somehow, through thousands of feet of earth and stone, setting the crystalline chamber aglow, and I had to squint my eyes against the sudden brightness. Music, like the faintest of wind chimes, if the wind had organized itself for a gentle symphony, filled the chamber.
And then my eyes adjusted, and in the center of the shaft of light was a tall, kindly-looking old woman, her silver hair long, her seamed face wrinkled and grandmotherly, her eyes the blue of a clear springtime sky.
Mother Summer. The Crone Queen of her Court.
Mab turned to her and flourished a deep, courtly curtsy.
Mother Summer quirked a small, wary smile and inclined her head in reply. “Winter Queen.”
“Mother Summer,” Mab said. “I’m sure my mother gave you the details.”
“She wrecked the cottage,” Mother Summer said mildly, amused, “and threw her cleaver through the window. I haven’t seen her that worked up in ages. I think it was probably good for her to finally get out.”
Justine screamed again, writhing.
Mother Summer’s eyes went to the bound woman with gentle compassion. “Oh. Poor thing. She’s in a very bad way.”
And then she turned to me. “I am not capable of interfering directly with mortal matters of my own accord, wizard,” she said in a gentle voice. “Only mortal will can allow me that freedom of action, and I ama guest in your demesne. It is no small thing to bring a new life into the world. Is this what you wish?”
“Help them,” I said gently. “Help them both. Please.”
She smiled, beatifically, and it felt like stepping into a beam of warm sunlight after coming out of a plunge into a cold lake.
“So be it,” she said.
—
The delivery didn’t take as long as I thought it would. Or maybe I was just so tired that I couldn’t keep track. Either way, it didn’t seem like very long before Mother Summer, ably assisted by Queen Mab, finished their work. Thomas and Justine’s son let out his first thin little wail from the cradle of Mother Summer’s arms.
Mother Summer sang gently to the babe, wrapping him up in white cloth drawn from nowhere, smiling benignly down on him.
“May the days of thy childhood be filled with happiness, wisdom, and peace, child,” she murmured, and kissed his dark-haired head. She looked up at Mab and said, “Must it now be thus?”
Mab gestured toward the exhausted but still breathing Justine—who slowly lifted her eyes. The pain in them was gone. What was left was cold. Reptilian. A stare of pure hatred.
Nemesis had resumed control.
“There is more work that must be done if her life is to be saved,” Mab said quietly. “This is all the kindness that remains to her now.”
Mother Summer sighed. “And the child?”
