Soul of Fire - Laura Anne Gilman

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in the matter.

      The display on the screen continued, the characters moving about the stage. Their garb was elaborate, even by her standards, their motions large, their voices exquisite. Nalith did not know the story they told but felt herself caught up in their passion to tell it, something inside her twisting and shifting as the action twisted and shifted.

      The sensation of being at the whim and control of another disturbed her, even as she craved it, and a frown touched her perfect features. Why was such ability to create given to humans, this power over her moods? How dare they think to move her, to manipulate her in such a way, against her will?

      She had come to this world because she thought the skill would come to her here, away from that barren hill. But even here, in this fecund place, the final spark eluded her still, and that fact kindled her irritation once again.

      “My lady?”

      The hesitant, piping voice came from the doorway. The slight, rough-skinned figure kowtowed from where it lingered in the doorway, attempting to gain her attention but put off by her frown. She did not even bother to glare, trusting that someone else would remove it, and went back to contemplating the screen.

      A faint noise confirmed her trust as another of the creatures came by, grabbing the brownie by the elbow and hauling him off down the hallway, their bare feet scuffing on the burgundy-and-blue rug. This time, her morning time, her observation of the gifts this world had to offer, was not to be interrupted. The court knew this.

      Once distracted, however, her attention could not quite return to the performance, the beauty in front of her marred by her thoughts.

      Perhaps she was surrounding herself with the wrong sorts. The thought occurred to her, glistening like a diamond. She called this a court, yes, but it was still a paltry shadow of what she once commanded; how could it expect to inspire? How could she burn brightly without the proper fuel?

      Nalith considered that, the faint lines of her face easing. Yes. Of course. She had called the miserable little gnomes to her first, playing on their sense of dissatisfaction, the rumble of rebellion in their bellies, but while she used them, she did not trust them—they were too similar to the courtiers she had known, miserable, conniving creatures, too eager to consider their needs rather than her own.

      And then the brownies had come. Wiser than gnomes, more civilized, understanding that their role was to serve and hers to reward. They had been the ones to find the first house, establishing the household, while she’d taken the pulse of this world, settled herself more comfortably and set out her lures, slowly drawing in others.

      Once made aware of her presence, the creatures who lived here, the supernaturals, fell to her glamour, wooed by the magics inherent in her skin, her voice, her touch. She made them no promises. She was the promise: a way to break from the bonds that had held them down for so long, a chance to change the stagnant ordering of their world and become something more. She saw their ambitions and used them.

      There were her human toys, yes, but supernaturals made up the bulk of her court. That had seemed proper, at first. She had thought it was the world itself, the too-bright sun and trees that did not speak. But now, now Nalith understood with a sharp clarity that humans were what made this world different from her own. Fierce and hot as the sun, as dumb as the trees, but powerful in their own way. Filled with a magic that Under the Hill had only been borrowing, for too long.

      Just as they could be used to open portals, they could open this door for her, too. Be the soil in which her own ambitions could grow.

      Nalith narrowed her eyes, staring at the display on the screen without truly seeing it. This world would give her what she wanted, or she would take it.

      * * *

      “Are you mad?” the second supernatural seethed, still pulling his companion away from where Herself rested. His fingers dug into the thin, muscled arm, not letting the other shake free.

      “Cam, let me go. She needs to know—”

      “She needs to know whatever she chooses to know. Learn your place, Alex, or you’ll lose it. And more besides.”

      They were speaking in low voices, having learned already that whispers carried through the house and to Her ears. Brownies were used to moving silently through the world, doing what needed to be done, but they had no experience with the likes of Her before this.

      Alex still thought it was important to share his news, but Cam was right: you learned how to deal with the queen, or you lost everything. Alex stopped trying to go back and let the other brownie drag him through the kitchen, down the bare wooden stairs to the basement.

      The court’s House wasn’t anything particularly grand—a nine-room, three-story Colonial set on the rise of the hill overlooking the center of town, which meant that they were within steps of the main street, such as it was. Brownies tended to like small towns, but this one was tiny even by their standards. Still, it had suited Herself’s demands: large enough space, few neighbors to intrude, access to cable television and the internet, and owners who could be easily driven away, so that Herself could take possession without fuss.

      The building had been run-down when they’d found it. Now the walls were freshly painted, the kitchen updated, and hand-woven rugs laid in every room under exquisite furniture delivered by workers who’d entered cautiously and left with a glazed look in their eyes. The newest, most shiny tech kept Nalith well entertained with music, movies, and television, while the walls were lined with bookcases—some of which had been there when she’d arrived and the others added on. There was no pattern or rationale to the collections; whatever caught her attention or fancy was added, glanced at, and then either devoured or ignored.

      The basement, however, had been left alone, and it was there that the two brownies fled, closing the door softly behind them. The cool stone walls and cement floor were bare and soothing, the lights dim enough to ease their eyes, and the furnishings comfortable and patched as brownies preferred.

      The basement belonged to the lower court; it was known to their lady but never entered by her, the one place where they could relax, discuss, and decompress from the pressure of waiting upon their queen.

      The gnomes were not allowed in the basement, by common decision.

      Other than their nine-member troop and the gnomes, there were eleven supernaturals serving in this court at the moment, not including those she had sent out into the world to scout for and protect her interests. Three of those others were taking their ease in the basement already: a lupin whose eyes Cam didn’t trust and two six-legged yōkai who rarely spoke but were hard workers and fierce fighters. The yōkai were settled in the corner, their legs tucked under them, while the lupin was sprawled on the sofa, an open beer can in one hand.

      “Seriously? What were you thinking, to interrupt her?” The argument between the two brownies had continued all the way down the stairs “Have you lost your mind?”

      “All right, you made your point.” They came when she called, not the other way around. “But word’s come in from the old house, from the ones who stayed behind,” Alex said, his voice agitated. “They came, the Wolf’s pack, and tossed everything, looking for her. Looking for her. She needs to know!”

      The Wolf had cost them the first House they had established for Herself. He had sent his people into the area, sniffing around, asking questions, raising suspicions. Making it too dangerous to stay, although none of them would dare gainsay Herself’s claim that she was simply bored of the surroundings. If he were heading this way...

      This house was more secure, isolated, more her Herself’s liking. But they needed other options, orbiting courts to enhance her standing in the eyes of others, places where Herself could go if there was trouble. That was the plan they had laid out carefully, one strand at a time, as only brownies knew how to plan. Here, then elsewhere, building in Her name.

      Brownies kept house; that was what they did. That was not, however, all they did, and it did not mean they thought small—or that they were always subservient.

      “Court opens at

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