Maggie was glad he agreed to give her one of the pastries.  She made a show, as she listened to him talking of ingredients and such, of handing him one of the pastries and having him hand it back to her.  Freely given is a peculiar and vital energy for a substance to have, and it's a picky traveler.  This done, she sets the pastry back down, and watches him craft the cake.  Such a mesmerizing art.. she pouts a little that she doesn't have such a skill, although she compliments him on his.  "Do all yoor sons an' fathers cook and tend horses like this?  Seems a curious pair o' skills t' me!"<br/>After this is ready, Maggie moved to the door and opened it for him, making sure to assist him in getting it to where it needed to be.  She spent a few moments helping with whatever Endorel needed, and when nothing else was required, she dashed back to the kitchen and to her pastry.  Thankfully, it was still there, and undisturbed.  She wondered where Lila might have gotten to, although having the whole of the kitchen to herself was very opportune.  Or it would have been, if that aura wasn't still around.<br/>She pondered for a few moments..  Judging by the sun-dials, she had about an hour until the wake.  She needed a little time to rest, which could be about half an hour.  And she'll need about 10 minutes or so to tune the harp and warm into the music.  That leaves about 20 minutes, which is more than enough time for her to do what she needs.  Taking leave of her duties for the time being, she gathered tinder, an empty flask, and went through the servants door and out into the garden.  After she'd gathered a handful of flowers, Maggie looked around her quickly, and then darted into the woods.<br/>With the tart and flowers in hand, Maggie crossed through the stream where she gathered water, filling her flask and moving quickly, occasionally ducking behind a tree to make sure no one was following her.  It was simple work, but work she'd rather keep to herself.  When she was satisfied that no one was pursuing her, she moved down the hill and deeper into the woods, the trees growing thicker and thicker, until she arrived at her clearing.  Her grove.<br/>Maybe the servants and hunters had seen it and speculated, but no one could have known for sure that this was her place of power.  There were wilted flowers around, which she quickly gathered.  She tossed these into a fire pit, and set to igniting it with some tinder she had brought with her.  In moments, there was a small fire going, and the old flowers were burnt away as she set new ones around.  When this was done, she scooped up a bit of the dirt and piled it on her right side, and then poured some of the water into the hole she had made.  In the middle, between herself, the fire, the mound and the pool, she placed the pastry, still warm and delectable.<br/>And then she called to them.<br/>It took several moments of waiting, patiently.  Strange, gleeful voices began to hiss into her ear, at first one or two, and then several, until all she could hear were the chattering celebrations of her companions.  She looked down at the pastry, freely given to her, and freely given to them, and started to see half material shapes forming around it.  Not ghostly: they were far too brightly colored for that.  But immaterial people, dancing, and taking handfuls of the fruit to stuff eagerly into their mouths.  The faerie.<br/>She waited patiently as they ate, and started singing as they devoured the last of the fruit.  A low, sorrowful tune she had heard long before she left Ireland.  The creatures huddling around the pastry listened closely, and some of them began to sing with her as the melody became clear.  The others finished the pastry until there was nothing left but happy looking spirits.  And then they began to bargain.<br/>"Y'know tha' ye shoul' owe me a boon."  Maggie teased, as some of the faerie nodded, some grumbled, and some laughed.<br/>"Fir yir Horse-Killer?  Yinna oh us fir tha'." said one.<br/>"Oh, aye!  Butth' lass owe's plenty fir wha we're t' tell 'er!" said another.<br/>"Shame, tha'.  Hwevver made these should live." said a third.<br/>Maggie interjected quickly.  "Endorel made them.  The horse-master.  The son of the slain."  As a group, the faerie seemed to roar at that news.<br/>"Oi nyu tha' lad wassummit, but tha' takes<em>and</em>bakes the cake!"  shouted a fancy looking faerie.<br/>"Aye!  We mussayve Endorel!" concurred a child-like one, although the phrase made Maggie angry.<br/>Maggie protested. "What's this aboot, savin' someone?  Th' castle's na in danger!"<br/>"Oh, ye poor stupid lass.  Y'know better than tha'."  A female faerie flew up, acting as though she meant to console her.<br/>"Yoor Lady means t' give a home she cannoo longer afford, an' the Night Bringer means t' take 'er own."<br/>Maggie sat stunned at that.  "But.. what o' th' man tha' killed the father?"<br/>"Forget 'im," said a faery, crossing his arms and looking world-weary. "Tha' one is beyond yoor justice, now.  A fair distraction, fir yir Captain an' 'is men.  They'll put 'im on a man hunt so th' maggots can crawl around inside th' belly."<br/>"Aye, an yoo went t' tell 'im about the thief in th' town!  Wretched, tha'."<br/>Maggie was quiet for a moment.  The faerie chattered among themselves, arguing what the best way to get around these things would be.  "Wot should I do, then?  Let the horses and the men go unavenged?  Let My Lady falter?"<br/>The world weary faerie replied in such a way that hushed the others.  "Yoor Lady refuses t' play a game she is already deep in.  She knows what is fallin' on her head, and who she be playin' with.  But she won't strike until she is "right" t' do so, and every move forsaken while waiting is another death on her hands."  The faerie moves close to her.  "How long's it been, lass.  Three years, four, since ye knew th' kiss o' th' road?  Tis time t' move on, lass.  Y' cannah save this place, and you'll die as ye try."<br/>Maggie starts to say "But the king..!?"<br/>"Wha, y' mean<em>tha'</em>king?" As he said so, Maggie became aware of the distant sounds of horses.  "Th' man dies laying siege t' his own castle.  He'll be no 'elp t' the Queen when th' time comes."<br/>Maggie was flustered.  She'd gotten advice like this before, but never in a situation where she was so invented in staying.  Usually, the faerie were honest and well meaning, so to hear them blast the idea of staying around so utterly made her feel helpless.  "Surely, there's somewhat Oi can do..?"<br/>The world weary fae shrugged.  "Save who y' can, and then save yirself.  An' be quiet aboot it."<br/>"Now, weet!" shouted another faerie.  "If she can get th' Queen t' fight back..."<br/>"It's a risk, is th' point."  The world weary faerie was somber.  "E'en if th' Queen brings all 'er power t' bear, will it be enough t' save Maggie?  Or e'en herself?  These folk 'ave both within and without th' walls covered, while th' Majesties act under the pretense o' nah bein' rude.  There is no monster greater than a weak king, an' tha' place is now full o' e'ery sort o' monster."<br/>Maggie stood angrily, flabbergasted by the rudeness of the faerie, or the acquiescent silence of the others.  She feels herself quivering with rage, and on impulse, she turns and leaves, walking back to the castle with a new black cloud hanging over her head.  The faerie chatter behind her, arguing amongst themselves until their voices fade into the rustling of the leaves.<br/>When Maggie got back to the Castle, she was in as foul a mood as she had ever been.  No time to rest.  She went to grab her harp and began to play, sweeping between bitter and sorrowful melodies as she sat in the garden.  At some point, she might realize she was crying, but it was unlikely.  She was wrestling with how deep in shit the castle might really be, and she would remain so until the wake began.