Format: Hardcover, 368 pages
Release Date: September 3, 2019
Publisher: DAW Books
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Urban
Hundreds of years ago, the Selkies made a deal with the sea witch: they would have the sea for as long as she allowed it, and when the time came, she would call in all their debts at once. Many people assumed that day would never come. Those people were wrong.
When the Luidaeg—October “Toby” Daye’s oldest and most dangerous ally—tells her the time has come for the Selkies to fulfill their side of the bargain, and that Toby must be a part of the process, Toby can’t refuse. Literally. The Selkies aren’t the only ones in debt to the Luidaeg, and Toby has to pay what she owes like anyone else. They will travel to the fabled Duchy of Ships and call a convocation of the Selkies, telling them to come and meet the Luidaeg’s price…or face the consequences.
Of course, nothing is that simple. When Dianda Lorden’s brother appears to arrest Dianda for treason against the Undersea, when a Selkie woman is stripped of her skin and then murdered, when everything is falling apart, that’s when Toby will have to answer the real question of the hour.
Is she going to sink? Or is she going to swim?
Story Locale: San Francisco/Faerie
The Unkindest Tide, by author Seanan McGuire, is the Thirteenth installment in the October Daye series. Toby Day, Knight Errant, Private Investigator, Hero to the Realm, receives an unwelcome guest, Luidaeg. Luidaeg, the Eldest of Maeve's offspring, Sea Witch, and Toby's friend and adversary, calls on Toby to answer a call of duty for which she owes Luidaeg. In a matter of weeks, Luidaeg must deal with the Selkies who she made an ultimatum to hundreds of years ago after the Roane all but disappeared from the world.
Hundreds of years ago, Luidaeg's nameless sister urged the slaughter of the Roane. The Roane can see paths to the future. They saw Toby, who has blood magic, come to turn back the tide. 3 years ago, Luidaeg told Selkie clan leader Elizabeth Ryan, (who is also helping Toby's wayward daughter Gillian learn how to be a Selkie), that a price must be paid. Toby, along with Tybalt, Quentin and several others, travel to the Duchy of the Sea where every Selkie in the world is expected to heed the call by the Sea Witch.
A Convocation will take place during which every Selkie will have to make a choice. There are debts that need to be settled. As Gillian is the weakest of the Selkies, this puts a target on her back. Gillian was recently turned Selkie by Luidaeg to save her life after she was targeted again because of whose daughter she is. Let's be honest here folks, if Gillian never again graced the pages of this series, I would be forever grateful. She brings nothing but angst and hatred towards Toby. If you've read the series from the start, you know why. Some of the hatred is directed towards Faerie which is understandable. But, woman up and get over yourself!
The Duchy of the Sea is home to another firstborn named Amphitrite, who also goes by Captain Pete. Amphitrite is
firstborn daughter of Titania and Oberon, mother of the Merrow who has,
of course, heard about Toby and her exploits. The Merrow believe she is
dead thanks to the fact that most firstborns have all but disappeared
from the world. All but Luidaeg and Toby's mother that is. Some of the
funniest moments in the story happen when Dean Lorden, Count of
Goldengreen, and his family discover that their maker is alive and well.
But, that's not all there is to this story or it would be rather short. Dianda Lorden's
brother appears to arrest Dianda for treason against the Undersea. Toby
gets to take a quick jaunt underwater to play the role of hero, and for
once, nothing goes terribly wrong. The problems are all on land. After a
Selkie clan leader woman is stripped of her skin and then murdered, Toby has to find out who is responsible. Can she save Dianda's Seamist, while also discovering the person responsible for killing a Selkie?
By the way, there is a novella at the end of book that features Raj, who is the Prince of Cats. Read it or not. If you read it, you will most likely like it.
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March 8th, 2014
What’s the unkindest tide?
-William Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona.
Some
people believe the rise of the cell phone-and the associated rise of
the cell phone camera-must have been a boon for the private detective.
After all, when your camera isn’t just handheld, but is also attached to
a personal communication device, it seems like it should be easier to
surreptitiously photograph people doing things they aren’t supposed to
do. Like cheating on their spouses, or money laundering, or trying to
violate the terms of their custody agreements. All those charming,
frustrating little ways that people like to break the rules, captured
for the courts with a single press of a button. No fuss, no muss, no
need to get anything developed. Swell, right?
Not
so much. The trouble is, cell phone cameras have a long way to go
before they’ll match the capabilities of a good zoom lens or
long-distance rig, much less exceed them-and that’s where I have a
problem. I still need my good lenses, but the more ubiquitous cell
phones become, the more your classic camera stands out to the curious
bystander. I used to be able to wander around with my trusty Canon slung
around my neck and be confident that anyone who saw me would take me
for a tourist. Not anymore. These days, people notice. People talk.
Some
days I wind up taking lots of pictures of flowers and graffiti and
showing them to anyone who seems too interested. It deflects suspicion,
and it’s surprisingly soothing, even if I’m not going to get a gallery
show any time soon. More often, I use some of my precious magic to hide
my camera behind a veil of illusion. It makes me look like some sort of
bizarre mime whenever I take a picture, but somehow, this is less
obviously weird, at least in San Francisco.
Humans are strange.
I’d
been following a man around the city with my veiled camera for three
days, trying to get pictures of him meeting with a group of “investors”
who were planning to use underhanded means to buy shares in his company.
I didn’t fully understand why they didn’t just call their stockbrokers,
but the man who’d hired me was the first man’s business partner, and he
was paying me well for my time and expertise. I don’t question the
check, as long as it cashes.
I
used to be a more or less full-time private detective. These days,
knight errantry eats up a lot of time, leaving me with curtailed work
hours. Knight errantry also doesn’t pay, not when you’re talking cash
money, and I’d jumped at the chance to pad my bank account back to
something resembling normal. I have a lot of mouths to feed at home, and
that doesn’t even go into the cost of veterinary cat food for my two
geriatric Siamese.
My
patience had paid off. Patience so often does. After three days,
several near misses, and two false positions, it had all come together
in a photo opportunity so perfect that I’d checked to make sure it
wasn’t being staged. I’d captured the pictures my client wanted without
being seen by my target, and had dropped off the film in exchange for a
lovely check, complete with hefty bonus. Not too bad for half a week’s
work.
Depositing
the check had been quick and easy and best of all, gave me an excuse to
pick up burritos from my favorite taqueria. The scent of them filled
the car, making me drive a little faster. Burritos are best when they’re
hot, and I wanted to get these home to my family before they had a
chance to cool.
Home.
Family. Two words I used to think would never apply to me again, which
just goes to show how much things can change. Sometimes they even change
for the better.
My
name is October Daye. I’m a changeling, which is a fancy way of saying
“one of my parents was human, and one of them wasn’t.” It sounds simple.
It’s not. Being a changeling means never really knowing where you
belong. It means always feeling like you’re standing on the outside of
two worlds, unable to commit to being a part of either one, equally
unable to walk away.
It’s
even more complicated in my case. I was raised thinking I was half
Daoine Sidhe on my mother’s side, making me a descendant of Titania.
Well, it turns out my mother, Amandine the Liar, is actually the
daughter of Oberon himself. She’s Firstborn, and I’m…
I’m
not completely new, but I’m not all that old, either. There are only
three of my kind of fae in all of Faerie. We’re called the D—chas Sidhe.
I’m still trying to figure out exactly what that means.
To
add another fun little wrinkle, my mother’s mother is a human woman,
Janet Carter. Yes, that Janet, the one whose interference with Maeve’s
final Ride led to the Winter Queen’s disappearance and changed the
course of Faerie forever. So that’s something fun for me to live with.
Janet is still alive, by the way. She married my ex-fiancŽ after I
disappeared for fourteen years. My daughter Gillian calls her “Mom.”
My family tree has a lot of thorns, and a tendency to draw blood.
Being
a changeling usually also means living on the fringes of Faerie’s
political structure, since the fact that we’re mortal is seen as a sign
of weakness. Again, things are different for me. Duke Sylvester Torquill
of Shadowed Hills stepped in as my protector and patron while I was
still a child. Thanks to him, when I got tired of living on the streets
with the rest of the changeling kids, I had someone to back me up and
take care of me. Under his protection, and after I’d discovered a new
knowe for the then-Queen of the Mists, I’d been able to study for and
eventually achieve my knighthood-something that was almost unthinkable
for a changeling, even one with my bloodline.
Being
a knight gave me a place in the Courts. It was a low place, sure, and
many people regarded it as scarcely better than being treated like a
particularly clever pet, but it had been enough to give me something to
hold onto. I’m surprisingly difficult to shake once I have something to
hold onto.
I
started as a knight, became a knight errant-sort of a fancy way of
saying “odd jobs person for the fae courts of the San Francisco Bay
area”-deposed an illegitimate monarch, and helped the true ruler of the
Mists claim her family’s throne. It was a lot of work, and resulted in
my being named a hero of the realm, which is sort of like being a knight
errant, only more so. Heroes of the realm protect people.
And
I have people to protect. Somewhere along the way, despite everything, I
found my people. I have a squire. I have a Fetch. I have a man I love,
who wants to marry me. I have a family, and they were all waiting for me
to get home with dinner.
I drove a little faster.
The
past three months hadn’t been perfect, but they’d been surprisingly
peaceful, despite presenting their own unique challenges. Gillian-who
had been born a thin-blooded changeling and then turned completely human
in order to save her from a painful, elf-shot-induced death-was finally
part of Faerie. I’d been resigned to the possibility that I’d never see
my daughter again, that one day I’d have to add her grave to the list
of those I visited regularly, decking them with rosemary and rue.
Only
it hadn’t worked out that way. One of my old enemies, the false Queen
of the Mists, had arranged for the kidnapping of my only child, and had
nearly killed her by jamming an arrow dipped in elf-shot into her
shoulder. Elf-shot is always fatal to humans. Gilly should have died.
Gilly would have died if Tybalt hadn’t reached her before the poison
could stop her heart. He’d carried her onto the Shadow Roads, which are
only accessible to the Cait Sidhe, and from there to the Luidaeg, the
sea witch of legend, and my mother’s sister.
Like I said, my family is complicated.
The
Luidaeg had been able to give Gillian a chance to survive. She’d draped
my daughter in a Selkie’s skin, chasing the mortality from her bones
for at least a hundred years. Most Selkies don’t keep their skins that
long, but in Gilly’s case…
The
elf-shot would linger in her system for a century. That’s what elf-shot
was designed to do. It puts purebloods to sleep, and it keeps them that
way until the world changes around them, becoming something alien and
strange. If Gilly set her sealskin aside before the poison faded, she
would die. Her humanity was the price of staying alive. It was seeing
her father, her friends, everyone she’d ever cared about grow old and
die while she continued on. She’d chosen to be human when I gave her the
Changeling’s Choice, and then the false Queen and the Luidaeg had taken
that away from her, one out of malice and one out of mercy, and I had
to wonder whether she’d ever forgive any of us.
I
haven’t spoken to her since the day she woke up and realized her life
had changed forever. I promised to give her whatever space she needed,
to let her be the one to come to me. But really, I don’t know what to
say. “I’m sorry I saved your life” is a lie. So is “It’s better to be
fae.” And “I didn’t want this for you” just might be the biggest lie of
all. Of course, I wanted this-or something like it. She’s
But
I’m not the mother she reaches for when she’s scared, or lost, or
lonely. That honor goes to my own grandmother, Janet Carter, who stepped
in and raised my child when Faerie conspired to take me away from her
for fourteen years.
Sometimes I hate my biological family. Maybe that’s why I’ve worked so hard to build myself a new one.
It
was simultaneously late enough and early enough that traffic was light.
The Market District was closed for the evening, sending its burden of
businesspeople and their support staff scurrying back to their safe,
secure homes, while the bars and clubs downtown had yet to hit their
full swing. I passed Dolores Park and pulled into the driveway of my old
Victorian-style house in nearly record time. The kitchen lights were
on. I turned off the car, opened the door, and was accosted by the sound
of classic rock blasting through the open window. May was singing along
as Journey asserted the need to continue to believe. May, like me,
can’t carry a tune in a bucket. The effect was surprisingly charming. It
said “you’re safe here.” It said “nothing is currently wrong.”
It said “welcome home.”
Since
there were people home, the wards weren’t set; all I needed to get
inside was my key. I stepped into the warm, bright kitchen, where my
Fetch was dancing in front of the counter as she mixed a bowl of cookie
dough. She turned and grinned at me.
“I hope you got extra burritos,” she said. “We have extra mouths in residence.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How many?”
“Dean and Raj.”
I raised the other eyebrow. “Raj got away for the evening?”
May
nodded. “Uh-huh. Gin told him part of kingship is being able to
delegate every once in a while, so he’s our problem until midnight.
That’s why I’m baking cookies. They’re working that poor boy to the
bone.”
“That
poor boy is going to be King of Cats; he signed up for this.” I swiped a
fingerful of cookie dough as I headed for the hall. May laughed and hit
me with her mixing spoon, getting more dough on my wrist. I grinned and
kept walking, sticking my wrist in my mouth to suck off the sugary
goodness.
As
my Fetch-technically retired, since Amandine broke the connection
between us when she changed the balance of my blood to save my life-May
and I used to be identical. Now, years and quests and changes later, we
still look like sisters, but we’re not twins anymore. Her face is the
one I had when she was called into existence, soft and round and human
in ways my own face has forgotten. Her eyes are a pale, misty gray, and
her hair is the no-color brown that drives a thousand salon
appointments, a color she’s constantly at war with, covering it in
streaks of blue and green and purple and, most recently, flaming orange.
It makes her happy, and I like it when she’s happy. After all, she’s my
sister in every way that counts.
Her
live-in girlfriend, Jazz, was in the dining room, sitting at the table
and clipping coupons out of an advertising circular. She tensed and
looked up at the sound of my footsteps, golden eyes briefly widening
before she relaxed and offered me a somewhat weary smile. “Hey, Toby,”
she said. “Need me to move?”
“Up
to you.” I held up the bag of burritos. “As soon as I crinkle the foil,
we’re going to have an invasion of teenage boys. Salsa may fly. Your
coupons could get royally wrecked.”
“Yes, but I’ll have salsa, so I’ll live.”
I
watched her gather her coupons as I set my bag down and unpacked its
contents. Fortunately for my ability to eat my own dinner, I always make
it a point to pick up a couple of extra burritos these days. My house
contains between one and four teenagers at any given moment in time-more
if Chelsea’s over and has decided she needs one or more of Mitch and
Stacy’s daughters to save her from being outnumbered by the boys. If
there’s one thing fae and mortal teens absolutely have in common, it’s
the ability to eat more than should be physically possible. I once found
Quentin absently gnawing on a stick of butter while he was doing his
homework. It would be terrifying, if it wasn’t so impressive.
Jazz
is a Raven-maid, one of the few types of diurnal fae. She and May make
it work, mostly by spending their mornings and evenings together, then
each doing other things while the other is asleep. For Jazz, “other
things” usually means running her small secondhand store in Berkeley, on
the other side of the Bay. Recently, though…
Recently,
it’s mostly meant staying in the house with the doors and windows
closed, steadfastly refusing to look outside and see the birds in
flight. My mother broke something deep inside Jazz when she kidnapped
her from what should have been the safety of her own home. It had been
part of an effort to blackmail me into bringing back her eldest
daughter, my missing sister, August. As usual, Amandine hadn’t cared who
might get hurt, as long as she got her way.
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