His office was as dull as what I’d seen of the rest of the building. It had depressing gray walls, a pressboard desk with a computer, and a window covered by dusty blinds. Wow, the Tongues for the Dead offices are actually nicer. Of course, that was because of one decorating-savvy brownie who’d had access to a vault of gold I hadn’t known existed until she’d spent all of it, but still. This was the court’s official representation in Nekros, and it was depressingly boring. After the terrible beauty of Faerie, I’d expected more.
I started to say something, but Falin crossed directly to his computer, his face still grave. Yeah, probably not the time to discuss decor. I watched over his shoulder as he pulled up an official-looking program and logged in.
He glanced back, and for a moment I thought he was going to comment on my hovering, but after a brief pause he said, “About twelve years ago the winter court began keeping an electronic database of all the fae in our court and all the independents in our territories. Before that, censuses were conducted when the doorways changed and recorded only on paper.”
“And how many times have the doors changed since the electronic database was created?”
Falin’s shoulders sagged. “We are still in the same territories.”
My lips formed a silent O as Falin keyed JENNY GREENTEETH into the program. I knew that the doorways to Faerie moved, and that they may stay put only a single season or might take decades to move again, but I hadn’t realized the Winter Queen had counted Nekros as part of her territory for quite so long. I doubted many mortals knew who ruled the area where they resided—it didn’t affect their lives much. Fae were another story.
“I’m guessing the fae in other courts’ territories aren’t in your database? Is there some sort of shared database?” The look on his face was a clear no. Humans might believe the FIB was a large unified agency, but each court governed their own territories with totalitarian control. And apparently they didn’t share information.
Falin hit ENTER and a pixilated SEARCHING popped up on the screen. This wasn’t exactly cutting-edge technology, but considering most fae were hundreds, if not thousands, of years old, it probably seemed pretty new and advanced to them. Falin was fairly young for a fae—how young, I didn’t know, just that he’d been born after the Magical Awakening, so no more than seventy mortal years. He was also more technologically savvy than many of his contemporaries and he thrummed his fingers against the desk in a staccato of impatience as he waited for the sluggish program to search for our query.
Finally the computer beeped. I scowled at the NO RESULTS message flashing in the center of a pop-up box. Falin tried TOMMY RAWHEAD next, with the same results.
Falin collapsed backward in his chair, a loud sigh escaping between his lips. I felt equally defeated.
“Now what?”
He pushed out of the chair. “Now we know these two aren’t members of the court or independents in the winter territories, which means they must have sworn themselves to a court member.”
“They couldn’t have refrained from showing up on census day?”
Falin shook his head. “Each time the doors change or an independent relocates to a new territory, he or she has to present himself to the new court or his tie to Faerie erodes and . . .” He made a vague gesture in my direction.
Yeah, I knew exactly what happened to a fae without a tie to Faerie. The two bogeymen hadn’t looked like they were fading. “So if they’ve sworn themselves to another fae . . . ?”
“They’ll be hard to find.” Falin stood, heading for the door. “Fae are supposed to inform the court if they take on sworn fae or changelings. The master provides the tie to Faerie, and while it breaks our laws to hide a sworn fae, being unreported doesn’t affect their tie to Faerie through their master. Fear of the queen’s wrath if discovered is usually enough of a deterrent—”
“But the alchemist has already proven himself to be a less than law-abiding courtier, so it is not terribly surprising that he didn’t declare his sworn fae.” I sighed and shot a longing glance at Falin’s abandoned chair. I was so tired. “If they aren’t registered, how do we find out more about them?”
Falin motioned me to follow him, and I trudged behind him into the hall. “We can check the records and see if we can find out if they were in a territory we once held. That might give us more information on how the alchemist met them.” He paused in front of a door. Drawing a few glyphs on the door caused it to pop open, revealing a huge storage room filled with rows of book shelves, most crammed to the point of bursting with old, leather-bound books. The few shelves not filled with books were stuffed with stacks of ancient-looking scrolls.