Epilogue

Jesse's eighteenth birthday fell on a Saturday, and I'd cleared the decks — surprisingly possible, as long as no crisis blew up. There was a party in the evening with a guest-list of her devising, but first thing Adam and I told her about her present, and made sure she was good with it. She was, so mid-morning I took her and Adam, with Sally and Clay, three Fishers, and Andrea, to the Garden of Manannán's Death. Underhill had been very happy after the Inauguration, and invited them all when she agreed to do as I'd asked. Donna had nervously declined, despite reassurances, but intrigue brought Clay, Jude, and Leslie, and once introductions had been made to Underhill, a relaxed ap Lugh, and Irpa, I was for once grateful for the silencing effect of the Statue of Surprising Mercy.

"Irpa can fill you in while Adam and I do some modelling."

Underhill gestured a bower into existence, for Adam and I to change, and flipped him some slow time so to me he was done in less than a minute, though it hurt as much as ever and he took another to shake and settle. Then we trotted out, and for a breathless time showed ourselves off to Underhill, Skuffles joining in. Adam had strength, bulk, and reach on me, but not speed or agility, and in play-fighting I could dive between his legs or under his belly, as well as being small enough to land on his back. Skuffles played underhand referee, occasionally blocking us both, and with magic singing all around we gave ourselves over to the pure joy of speed and contest. Roses opened tunnels for me when I needed them, which made Adam's wolf give me a look I returned with a jaw-drop, and the third time I was cornered I turned, sauntered up to him, and gave his nose a lick before darting underneath and making it out with nothing worse than a pulled tail. We wound up in a panting heap, and Jesse poured us water from Overhill, though Underhill supplied chased pottery bowls.

By the time we'd changed back, Underhill was cross-legged beside a wide-eyed Jesse, hands resting on her left upper arm, and the feel of magic was up. Sally was holding Jesse's right hand, ap Lugh, Irpa, and Andrea watching intently, as was Skuffles, bellied forward with muzzle extended. Jude draped an arm over Adam's shoulders.

"Proud of you, Dadam."

Adam smiled, all the way to his eyes. "Even a paranoid Alpha has limits, Jude. Glamour not needles, and I can tell myself it's a female inker."

"Un huh. I hear all that. And then there's sharing the love with Mercy and Skuffles so you don't feel a fraud, hey?"

Adam slung an arm round Jude's waist, and I leaned in to give him a kiss. It had taken me a while to work out why Jesse's desire for a wolf-tat with his colours and brindling aroused such profound hesitation, because I'd thought it was about a male inker and bare skin, but eventually twigged he was embarrassed by the design.

"That sort of tat's for sweethearts, love. Not daughter to father."

I spoke carefully. "Adam, you don't know guys with Mom tats?"

"I suppose."

"So is there some reason girls can't get Dad tats, beyond a dim notion girls shouldn't get tats at all?"

"Dad tats?"

"Un huh."

"Um …"

"Sounds like a no to me, love."

It took some soothing, but the idea of a Mom-and-Dad tat perked him up, playing the right line with conflicts he had over Christy and Jesse's decision to refuse further contact until she had therapy. Checking with Jesse on the principle without giving the game away was tricksy, but I managed, so my coyote was in, and Skuffles could hardly be excluded, Irpa's tat being the inspiration, which helped Adam too. I thought his reasoning weird, if sweet, and for Jude to see it so fast was a salutary shock. Clay obviously understood too, so maybe it was a guy thing, but I was distracted as Leslie took my arm with a determined look, Jenna behind her with an eye-roll.

"Mercy, I have to report this."

I sighed. "Who to, Leslie?" She blinked. "Let's short-circuit the chain of command, hey? Report away."

I got a faint smile.

"Tchaa. Ms President, there appears to be a statue of you dominating this garden."

"Yeah, I noticed giant nude ice me, but I dunno about dominating, Leslie. The triad includes the Fountain of Uphill Justice and Untenanted Duckpond of Valorous Impossibility. I think you overrate heroic statuary."

"Overrate …" Leslie laughed edgily, and heads turned. "Mercy, why on earth didn't you tell anyone a sovereign ally had put up a huge praise-song to your courage?"

"Because it shows me buck-naked killing an ex-god? Underhill conceded the fig-leaf, Leslie, though it's untrue, but the statue's on the spot where I did what it shows. Adam has feelings on the matter, too."

Leslie's eyes were wide, and Jude nudged Jenna aside to hold his wife.

"That was of you, lady, I'd have feelings too. As you would if it was me."

"But … the honour …"

"It's about more than that, Leslie. The triad was completed by the Duckpond as Excalibur came to me in St Louis. But I know how you are with duty, so I'll try to explain." I sat and looked at Underhill, who cocked her head though her hands never left Jesse's arm. "We first met when I called on your justice to defeat Manannán mac Lír, and then, or soon after, from Gwyn ap Lugh, you learned I'd unwittingly challenged Fae humour."

"True. And you spoke truth. Once we were merrier, but cold iron came."

I nodded, glancing at ap Lugh, who shrugged.

"You set a high bar for senses of humour, Mercedes, but ours had become dangerously brittle. Taking your words as a challenge was opportune strategy."

"So I eventually realised." I looked at Underhill. "Anyway, recovering your sense of humour became bound up with your awakened justice, and Manannán really had annoyed you. Hence the Fountain, yes?"

"That is a way of putting it, Mercy. You told me of Stefan Uccello's senses of humour and honour, connecting them, and it came to me that Manannán's madness and defiance of ancient law matched a notable lack of humour, so I agreed with Gwyn ap Lugh a lesson was needed. I hoped the fountain would amuse as well as please you, and you understood immediately, suggesting a duckpond. Triads are always agreeable, and with fountain and pond spoken for, ice sculpture seemed the best option."

"Running water won't hold magic, Leslie. And one reason you manifest as a child, one part of your lesson, is that the Fae need to learn and grow again?" Underhill nodded, smiling, and I spoke carefully. "So then there were two, and the Duckpond waiting in the wings. Or on them, I suppose. But all sorts of other magics were drawn in, some very old. I was responsible for Excalibur, with Carnwennan and Manannán's Bane, and we've talked about liferoses, coyote luck, and the cloak orchestrating my will. It was certainly reaching out to spirit magic, and used it to open a way for the angry dead. But what was it doing Underhill?"

"What was it not, Mercedes Elf-friend? I was generous in its making, pleased to have had my justice rightly called on, and watched closely as you passed to and fro, seeking to understand what it learned of and from you. One answer to your question lies with Skuffles, for a new kind of free magical being is rare enough that very old awarenesses must change. Another lies in the magics you combine, that made Skuffles possible, for you are also new under the sun, speaking to possibility. And if you will befriend trolls, you can hardly be surprised when Thor stirs himself."

I blinked and looked at Irpa, who grinned.

"Vor?r naming you Troll-friend sat him up some, the old sluggard, and he never liked Manannán so he approved of you anyway. Rates the Dark Smith's swordcraft too, for all he prefers thunderbolts, and I bent his ear so he gave your spellwork a boost as it passed through."

"Ah. Do please tell him how glad I am to hear that, Irpa. I knew someone else had fed power in, but not who."

My gaze went to ap Lugh, who gave the faintest shrug.

"You have never met Thor, so how should you? And he was not the only one. Let us say you sensed in that moment several deep realignments, that may reveal themselves in time." I gave him a look and he smiled his austere smile. "Happily for all, Ms President, as steps on our Path of Mercy."

"I am glad to hear it, Prince Gwyn ap Lugh." I turned. "So there you go, Leslie. Still want to report anything? I think I more-or-less understand what went down. If I squint. But it'd take several thousand pages to explain and still be crazy speculative. And what would State do about my being gladdened by Thor? Do we need a Norwegian crisis?"

Irpa and Andrea laughed, and Leslie gave a half-hearted glare.

"Mercy's right, Leslie. Does the government need more dead-end paperwork? And you have reported. Counsel says you're covered."

"So does the President, SAC. And I still think the statue's real purpose is to embarrass me into being hesitant about requesting lets to bring humans through." Fae laughed, and I returned a rueful grin. "If your urge to report is really bothering you, tell the AED under oath of secrecy, and he can tell State what he thinks he should."

"And the Man, Mom. Ex-Man. Remember him asking what he'd missed?"

"Fair enough, Jesse. You're still in touch, Leslie?"

"Yeah. He said you OK'd talking about the Freed."

"Yup. And whatever, if the line's secure. Talk to him and the AED about anything that troubles you. I've never had a friend elected President, or been a lower-ranked federal officer, but I'll bet it has bits that suck. I brought you today to try to ease that. Jesse has been able to talk to Andrea, but not Jenna or Sally, and Ymir probably said geasan because of the wish I expressed, when I first saw the statue, that no human know of it without my let. Would Ymir count that a geas, Gwyn ap Lugh?"

"Certainly. Being spoken here, of that triad, by you, gave it great power ere I endorsed it. Both your geasan stand, Mercedes."

"I am glad to know it, Gwyn ap Lugh, for my wish is unchanged. It's not just modesty and Adam's feelings, Leslie. I dunno if this'll make sense, but Coyote once said he didn't have much stuff because stuff was sessile, and he was so not. Nor am I. I'm at deep odds with it, somehow."

Clay had been quiet but sat forward. "I've had to use my service weapon to kill, and I would not want that moment depicted on an honour board."

Leslie blinked, I gave Clay a grateful look, and he nodded.

"Can't say I'm not glad to have seen it, though, Mercy, or that I don't strongly approve." He gave Underhill a bow. "If we did a whip-round for a statue of you downtown wallets would come out fast"

"Don't even think it, Clay."

Jenna patted Leslie's arm. "Mr Willis is right, Mom. I know the Duty Thing has a grip, but the Awesome just caught up with you."

Sally nodded. "Dizzy moment, Ms Fisher, and with so much magic about you're probably a bit fried anyway. I know I am. Just enjoy the now, and think about it again when you're Overhill."

Adam, Jude, and Clay gave thumbs-ups, and Andrea laughed.

"Smart, smart, smart, Sal and Jen. You give me so much hope."

"As you do me, Sally Willis and Jenna Fisher."

Underhill was earnest, and power flickered as she reached out both hands in sudden silence to cup and lift away two roses, presenting them to Sally and Jenna without obligation, in honour of their support for me though Jesse. I was holding Adam's hand as tightly as he was holding mine, and the image I sent him of four liferoses and the cloak playing cards with Coyote in the Rose Garden made him give me an appalled look before we realised Underhill had taken her hands off Jesse's arm.

At first the skin we stared at was bare, then Adam's wolf popped up, dropping its jaw in greeting. A moment later my coyote thrust a head between Adam's front legs, grinning, and Skuffles pushed in from one side. Underhill was holding a mirror for Jesse, and others' attention was torn from the liferoses Sally and Jenna held. Leslie's gasp brought Jenna's head up, and her eyes widened.

"Sal! Look!"

After a long moment with everyone staring as wolf and coyotes ducked in and out of frame, and chased one another into the distance before popping back up, Jesse looked up at her friends, something crackling that everyone felt, then shifted to face Underhill, and bowed.

"Underhill, on this day that I come of age you make me very glad indeed. I regret thanks would be unwise. May I ask two questions?"

"Certainly, though I make no promise to answer."

"Of course. Was this gift of a glamour tattoo … untroubling to do?"

"Novelty is a welcome challenge, Jesse Hauptman. There is no grave cost to the magic, though care is needed in gifting glamour to human skin."

"I am glad to learn so. Is this a magic you might be willing to offer other humans, on the recommendation of those who hold liferoses?"

Intrigue ratcheted into tension. as I guessed where Jesse was going with this, and you bet She Steps Sideways Too.

"It may be, Jesse Hauptman. Who might earn such recommendations?"

Jesse spread her hands carefully. "It is a matter of cachet, Underhill. A glamour tattoo will be greatly desired."

"I am to be a prize?"

There was an edge to Underhill's voice, and Jesse snapped upright.

"No, not at all. I mean no disrespect. I simply observe you have strongly supported Mercy's fight to change Overhill and its ways, not least in your grants of liferoses, and as simply ask if you would be willing, in the matter of glamour tattoos, to provide their holders with a weapon in need, as you did Mercedes Elf-friend. Forgive me if I trespass over any boundary I do not perceive." Jesse shrugged, voice lightened. "Keeping kiddos on song matters, and is not always easy. A deliverable reward for true merit would be potent, and need not be as complex as this you freely give me. Sal?"

"Exactly right, Jesse. Underhill, ma'am, a star that spun or changed colour would be plenty."

"And maybe a one-up — a second star, or stylised coyote." Jenna's hands worked. "Not ranks, but, like, bronze, silver, gold. Kids don't usually have the anti-preternatural bias adults pick up. You know about Others 101? Well, this would be a part. And if you were … awarding a tat, for outstanding service to the Path of Mercy, you or whatever Gray Lord could do really good PR. Jesse, Sal, and I would be happy to do the social media side for you, without obligation, of course."

I felt Adam's rising amusement, and saw Jude's, Leslie's, and Clay's. The consternation on ap Lugh's face was just as plain, Andrea was off in the Awesome, with which I sympathised, Irpa was swallowing a troll laugh, and Underhill had an increasingly unholy look of appreciation as she looked at Jenna and Sally, and back to Jesse, who waggled a hand.

"Call it honorary membership of the League of Kiddos, and say glamour really rocks."

The unholy look got unholier, and I leaned against Adam, his arms tightening around me.

"We are in so much trouble."

"I know, love." Adam's laughter was a rumble in my heart. "It's the very best kind of trouble, mind."

There was no arguing with that, so I didn't.

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Author's Afterword

Yes, I know it's all perfectly absurd, alas, but really — wouldn't you rather, than our presently dismal trans-Pond realities? And if we can't daydream pleasantly in fiction, where can we?

One of Lois McMaster Bujold's characters in her World of the Five Gods series once asks any god who'll listen for mercy, not justice, because if there were really divine justice where could any of us ever hope to be? But one can, in fiction, deal some temporal justice, from time to time, if you look at it right.

I owe apologies to living Real Persons, including Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Bill Kreutzman, Mickey Stewart, Dave Lemieux, Jorma Kaukonen, Bob Dylan, the Boss, Ray Davies, Clyde Aspevig, and Marcus Amerman, as well as the late Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter, for taking their names and amazing artistry in political vein. I broadly disapprove of RP fic, but all things considered I hope they won't mind too much as, however idiosyncratically, I express only admiration. Wolf Blitzer, however, gets no apology, nor anyone in political life whose probable ID you might work out. Go figure.

B'Jack,

August 2020