Idlewild

Last bit of the 07 Nano

2008-12-01T03:28:00.001+08:00

The lady kept very still and silent in her corner of darkness. It was at least three floors below ground, yet a steady little breeze had risen in the dark several minutes ago. There could be some ventilation grilles, but she didn’t think so, not without some light filtering through the grilles into the room.

And this wind was no normal wind. It sought her out and found her easily, curling and ruffling over her face and dress. The lady felt unseen fingers brush her cheek with unusual gentleness and affection.

‘Come out, if you please,’ she said, keeping her voice low.

The wind dropped for a moment, and died altogether when footsteps were heard on a stairs somewhere in the dark. The lady turned her head towards the sound in an effort to see. A chink of light appeared, outlining a pair of long thin legs on the stairs.

‘Lady Nyamph,’ said a familiar voice jovially. ‘Doing well, I hope?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Alpha.’ The wind nudged her arm like a dog, but she ignored it.

‘Perhaps you would care to join me in my rooms above?’

‘And what will I have to pay?’

‘Nothing, my dear.’ The legs stepped the rest of the way down the stairs. A long thin face peered at her out of the light.

‘I won’t co-operate with you, you know,’ she said flatly as the man approached her.

Alpha sighed and chuckled wearily. ‘I know, but won’t do any harm to try eh? And the boy has agreed to work with us.’

‘What have you done to the hostage?’

‘No, the hostage doesn’t know. He isn’t needed right now. I meant Art, of course. You know we always meant Art all this time.’

‘Not the girl.’

‘Oh no, she’s useless as she is. We’re using her to get to her father, as you well know. Stop playing these mind games, Nyamph. We know what you want.’

‘Well what can I do?’ she muttered, getting to her feet.

‘By listening to us, for a start. You’re very confused, my dear.’

‘I’ll listen,’ she said, pulling her hand out of Alpha’s clasp, ‘but confused? Oh no, don’t think you can get that past me.’

‘Ah, odd ideas you have then.’ Alpha bowed and escorted her up the stairs.

The wind followed behind, touching the hem of her dress, slipping silently along her hair and generally making its presence known to her in a reassuring way. She was glad of it, though upon reflection, she realized that someone would have to send him for the wind to get here. Who had the foresight to send the wind here?

‘Ah, here we are.’ Alpha pushed open the large double doors and gestured her in.

She stepped through, registering the smells of polished wood and a fire burning. Her eyes went at once to Art and Iris. The boy turned away, scowling. It didn’t seem like Art – but who knew? And she was partly at fault, she knew, and the boy was getting increasingly impatient and frustrated with her.
‘Here, my lady,’ Omega greeted her, pulling her over to the chair beside him.

She took a seat and waited for him to speak, fixing a quizzical expression on her face to hide her other thoughts. The wind stayed behind her, as slow and docile as a sleeping animal.

‘You are aware of the reason we brought you here?’ Omega continued.

‘Of course.’

‘Well, what do you have to say now?’

‘I won’t give in,’ she replied grimly. ‘Not at all.’

‘Even if it means the death of these two, or the girl’s father, or the hostage?’

‘You are threatening me,’ the lady stated quietly. ‘Why resort to this, Sept?’

‘And why do you not co-operate with us now?’

‘What you have done, and plan to do, are not what I would like to be involved in.’

‘Well you were part of the creation of it.’

‘I thought it would be good,’ the lady said proudly. ‘I thought it would benefit people who would otherwise have not been born. I thought we would profit from the extra commerce and trade.’

‘True, true,’ Omega conceded. ‘But we’ve decided that all those things are of no importance now.’

‘You don’t understand what you’re doing, Sept,’ the lady said wearily. ‘Changing the reality of this world – the mother world itself – would have reverberations over everything.’

‘But we have figured out a way to deal with the consequences,’ Omega explained smoothly.

‘By kidnapping a scientist from one of the subsidiary worlds?’ The lady laughed scornfully into his face.

‘When will you see sense, my lady?’ Alpha spoke up sorrowfully. ‘I thought we had a great thing going.’

She gave him a withering look and turned her full attention back to Omega. The man’s eyes were watching the other parts of the room as though he could see something the others had not spotted.

‘Clever,’ he said.

The wind rose up behind the lady, rattling the chandelier above and causing the fire in the hearth to rise and glow brighter. The lady stood up, her hair and dress blowing wildly about her. The eldest Mr. Sept got up too, his hands twitching.

‘Clever,’ he repeated. This time he sounded much angrier than Art had ever him.

‘With the wind at my back and the sight of Titania!’ the lady shouted into the wind. Her voice hardly rose above the noise of the wind, which grew louder and louder as its intensity increased.

Omega held out a hand into the wind and shut his eyes. Tiny streams of lightning crackled and exploded in the wind, singeing the air in the room. Alpha leapt back and cowered behind the sofa as Theta pulled himself to his feet and stepped up beside Omega.

Art bent low over Iris, who had begun to fidget noiselessly. Rain splattered his back and face, and his eyes were watering in the fierce scouring wind. The lady and the two Mr. Septs had vanished in the wind, which was weaving clouds around them. As he squinted out of the corner of his eye, the wind began to swirl in an anti-clockwise direction with the three within as its center.

‘Get down, idiot!’ Alpha yanked at Art’s arm. ‘Get behind here.’

Art followed, pulling Iris along as best as he could. She cried out once and settled deeper into sleep. Alpha watched the spectacle from behind the safety of the sofa, cheering his two older selves on indiscriminately.

A new voice joined the other indistinct voices. It sounded like the crash of thunder, or the wind howling, or even the dance of raindrops on the roof. It was the voice of the storm at its full force, angry and wild.

‘Omega, you have done a great harm.’

Someone shouted into the wind, but because there was now a spinning vortex in the center of the room, the words were lost in the noise of other things spinning and whipping past.

‘Let them go.’

A fresh burst of electric sizzled outwards from the vortex. Art ducked instinctively, hearing Alpha cry out in surprise and the smell of burning hair joined the cry a few seconds later.

‘The boy?’ The voice sounded surprised, as though the speaker had been caught off-guard.

The wind dropped imperceptibly, and the speed of the vortex lessened and died. Art peered over the top of the sofa carefully, ready to avoid any untoward lightning.

Mr. Sept – there was only one now – had his arms spread wide open. He was laughing, but it was a cold, selfishly pleased sound. The man with the beard standing beside the lady was the storm, Art guessed, and he had his arm on the lady’s elbow. She inclined her head towards him and listened as he whispered into her ear urgently.

‘All right,’ the lady announced after a few long minutes. ‘We’ll trade.’

‘I see.’ Mr. Sept’s eyes glittered as he turned to look at Art. The boy remained where he was, frozen with dread and horror. ‘Art,’ Omega said, ‘come here.’

Alpha poked him painfully in the ribs and pulled Art up roughly. The boy lowered Iris gently to the floor and stumbled over to the three people.

‘The lady has decided to trade, Art,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘She has agreed to give you over in exchange for the girl and her father, with the hostage thrown in for free. What do you say then?’

Art met the lady’s cool eyes. She was angry with him; angry because he had sold her out earlier. He had promised to trust her and follow her, even against what Mr. Sept told him to do – he realized in a burst of understanding, standing before her with his life in her hands, that she had meant him all along to go against Mr. Sept at whatever cost. Something very much like regret crept into the anger, and his conscience was uneasy. It only made him angrier, because she had made him look like a fool.

‘Thank you,’ he merely said, bowing with exaggerated politeness.

‘You’re welcome.’ She nodded formally to him. The air froze between them.

Mr. Sept clapped his hands, smiling widely. ‘And now to business, shall we? Alpha?’

‘Yes, Omega,’ the young man said. He ran straight towards Omega and merged smoothly into him. Mr. Sept shook himself, whole again.

‘Ah, all the pieces together,’ he joked humorlessly. And then turning to Art, he added, ‘You did a good thing, boy. But we won’t need you to talk to the poor man now.’

‘Where shall I be going?’

Mr. Sept took his arm and steered him towards the doors. ‘Why, I’ll show you the labs, of course. And the mechanics of world creation – fascinating stuff, and you would undoubtedly thank me for this wonderful opportunity.’

He stopped abruptly before he reached the doors and glanced over his shoulder. The lady and the man had remained where they were, wordlessly watching Mr. Sept and the boy.

‘Can’t have them running loose, of course,’ Mr. Sept said as an afterthought. He flicked a hand in their direction.

There was a crash, and the air around the lady and man shimmered and danced with sparks. The sparks gathered and formed intricate patterns, combining into a shining cage after several moments. The lady nodded once, twice and looked away.

***
Mr. Sept smiled as he pushed open the only door of the room. The man had his back to it, but he knew it was the door all the same. The door was hidden, and appeared at different corners of the room every day.

‘Get up,’ Mr. Sept said, pushing the man over. ‘We need you now.’

‘I said no,’ the man replied quietly.

‘The boy’s gone back on his words. We’ll bring you up to meet your daughter now.’

The chair fell over loudly as the man stood up abruptly and backed into the opposite wall. He had an old lighter in his hand.

‘A lighter?’ Mr. Sept knocked it out of the man’s trembling hand and grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t be stupid, man. Your daughter’s waiting.’

‘I suppose she’s locked in a room or something, right?’ Mr. Lang wrenched his arm out of the other man’s grip and edged to the other end of the room.

‘No, she’s not,’ Mr. Sept said, losing patience. ‘Come on, man. We’re giving you what you want, meeting that damned daughter you keep raving about. Now!’

‘Why is she with you?’

‘Do you really need to know that?’ Mr. Sept smirked. ‘I won’t tell, it’s not necessary for you to know. Come now, before I lose my patience.’

‘You’re Theta, aren’t you?’ Mr. Lang fought back the arm that swung threateningly past his face.

‘Quite right.’ Mr. Sept aimed another blow to the man’s back, but the man dodged and headed for the door.

‘What has the boy done?’

‘Done? Besides giving you and your daughter up to us? Oh, nothing much.’

The man winced as Mr. Sept’s foot connected with his knee.

‘What about the lady?’ he shouted, dodging another punch.

‘Ah, that was her business.’ Mr. Sept snarled and grabbed the man’s shirt.

There was an unexpected pause. Both men stared at each other over the other’s arms. Mr. Lang stepped back slowly after a few seconds, his hand going to his side.

‘Is that it?’ he whispered, feeling the blood wet his shirt.

‘All there is.’ Mr. Sept grabbed the man’s shoulder and steered him to the door.

The corridors were empty, without any sign of the guards or Mac. Mr. Lang kept his head down on the way up, past rooms with mysterious activity within, and voices drifting past, and lights flickering on and off. The place put him in mind of a hospital. The blood seeped down his side, a few drops landing on the floor as they hurried up more floors.

The wound was not deep; Mr. Sept had merely done that to gain an advantage, to hurt him as a warning. It could have been avoided, maybe, but then he didn’t know what to do then, with the thought that they had killed Emily –

And then they were through the doors, into a room eerily lit with the writhing sparks of a cage with two people in it. Mr. Lang recognized one of them as the lady, but the other was a man. Emily –

The girl lay peacefully asleep on the sofa, an arm obscuring her face. Mr. Sept threw the man down beside the sofa and strode over to the cage.

‘Emily,’ Mr. Lang whispered, pushing the arm off her face, ‘wake up. Emily.’ He shook her gently. The girl remained asleep.

‘What is it?’ the lady said, watching Mr. Sept approached the cage. ‘I thought you were whole.’

‘Not quite,’ Mr. Sept said, touching a fingertip to the cage.

‘Why is the man here?’ the man beside the Dream Lady asked sharply.

‘Mr. Storm.’ Mr. Sept sighed and grinned. ‘How fortunate we are to have you as a guest.’ He glanced over his shoulder to the man and Iris. ‘I suppose we’re letting them have a nice little reunion before everything is tidied up.’

‘You’re going to kill them.’ The lady reached a hand through the sparks and grabbed hold of Mr. Sept’s collar.

Theta stepped back, pulling away the lady’s hand as though it was something repulsive. ‘Oh I don’t know. We might have to.’

***
Mac felt the creatures on his back, but before he had time to react, someone had flung a blindfold over his eyes. A muzzle was shoved roughly over his mouth and nose, and several of those creatures went to work on his legs.

And then there was just silence. Mac felt the creatures slide off his back and flank, and the sounds of someone speaking strangely. A tune played on a flute drifted down to him, as though the flutist was somewhere underwater. He felt the creatures shift and move uneasily around him.

‘Lay down your weapons!’ someone shouted.

A few creatures closest to Mac’s ears snickered; he heard the sounds of knives and several clicks. Someone very small climbed behind his ears and grabbed the fur there painfully.

‘Lay down your weapons!’ the same voice shouted.

More clicks, and something cold and hard brushed against Mac’s legs. He lay on his side, unable to see or hear. The creatures around him were moving quickly now, pushing him to the side of the lane under the hedges.

‘Listen!’ a new voice called. It sounded like a lady. ‘Listen!’

The flute began to play again, a livelier, merrier tune than the first one.

Titania gazed down the lane at the large group of glams disguised as recon elves. They had tied up the cat and shoved him under the hedge. Typical idiots, she thought, yanking her sleeves over her elbows. They never do learn to use another’s strength to their advantage, do they? One bat of the paw from Mac would have knocked out about five of the elves.

The tune picked up speed, climbing higher and higher notes. Several glams nearest to the front clapped their hands to their ears, evidently affected by the tune. A few others came forward to take their place, changing shape into their original forms.

‘A bit higher,’ the Queen muttered to the flutist.

The elf nodded, and brought the tune higher, until the sound was beyond the range of human hearing. A few of the weaker glams dropped their knives and dashed to the back, where they would undoubtedly be doubled over in pain.

The notes climbed higher, and higher, and higher – the glams began to waver, their shapes blurring and distorting as though they were vibrating at high speed. Cries could be heard from them; thin desperate cries begging the Queen to forgive them and stop the noise.

Behind his blindfold, Mac went cross-eyed and hoped fervently that his eardrums were not being perforated by the tune.

‘A little lower,’ Titania said.

The notes dropped slightly, but half the glams were already retching and lying on their backs. The remaining half staggered about blindly, colliding into each other and walking into the hedges.

‘What now?’ Oberon said.

‘Isolate the glams,’ she replied.

The elves moved quickly past her, forming ranks and taking up their positions efficiently. A few went to drag the cat to a safe distance, while some others stalked behind the hedges and pushed out the glams hiding in there. Within minutes the place was swarming with glams and elves, while Oberon and Titania watched and waited.

And in another few more minutes, there was nothing in the lane, not even a trace of cat hair.

‘A dream world, like you said,’ Oberon said, nodding in satisfaction. ‘I pity the poor dreamer who had to witness this scene.’

‘Oh I wouldn’t know, dear,’ Titania laughed, walking through the hedges as though they didn’t exist. ‘People are often odder than we give them credit for.’

And in another few more moments, there was no one there.

The lane went back to its original state, the air still and heavy in the evening heat. Somewhere between the startling green hills in the blue distance, the sun began to set.

***
Iris was dreaming.

She had not dreamt of any of these places and people before – if she had, she knew she would have remembered. How could you explain the presence of a flying machine, so large and heavy, and yet it was able to get up into the sky and take passengers across continents and oceans? And who was this lady who kept turning up, again and again, a lady who looked a bit like her, who said she was her mother, who called her Emily, but yet a person she had never met before?

Where was Art? Was he nearby? She had thought that he was beside her a while ago, but now there was a different person there, someone who was stroking her hair with unaccustomed gentleness –

Did the Dream Lady manage to rescue the poor man from wherever he was? And where was Mr. Sept?

Mr. Lang held the girl and stared morosely at the cage of sparks. Theta had left them fifteen minutes ago, presumably to speak to Omega and Alpha. He didn’t know where Mr. Sept had gone to…no, he did. He was going to die. Somehow the thought didn’t worry him as much as he had thought before.

The lady was beckoning him over now. The other man in the cage with her had vanished inexplicably, and there was now a mysterious wind banging and rushing against the sparks, sending them leaping into the air and dispersing more frequently and fiercely than they had before.

‘Mr. Lang,’ the lady hissed, ‘we need you.’

The man got up reluctantly and dragged his feet to the cage. The wind was threatening to break past the sparks now, but something was clearly holding it back. The lady slid a hand through the lines of sparks to his. He took it unthinkingly.

And then he knew – he didn’t understand, exactly – but he knew. It felt as though he was falling into his own head, his own thoughts, where there was no beginning or end; images and memories slipped past one by one, each one as lucid and vivid as the next. And then he realized that he was not looking at his own memories, but the memories of other people – and they were strange and yet familiar to him. He saw worlds collapsing into themselves, people disappearing where they were, the land ending where it shouldn’t, families torn apart – and now the memories were going past too quickly for him to register each one individually, but he grasped that they had all the same purpose: to show him the ending and breaking of the worlds Mr. Sept had created.
And beneath these images and sounds were the same emotions – fear, anger, confusion, indignation. One thought pushed itself to the fore, drowning the emotions that were beginning to overwhelm him: Stop the boy.

The memories slowed down and speedily trickled into oblivion. Mr. Lang uttered a soft gasp and dropped the lady’s hand.

‘Now do you see?’ she said sadly.

‘Yes,’ he said drunkenly. ‘I do.’

‘Stop the boy,’ she urged. ‘Please.’

‘But Emily – ‘

‘Emily will not be safe if you do not stop the boy!’

‘I will.’ Mr. Lang shuffled to the door, his head down. ‘I will.’

***
‘And that is the machine to give the world a frame,’ Mr. Sept explained. He pointed towards a rather small machine in the unremarkable shape of a cube, with a large black screen taking up one of its sides.

‘And that one,’ the man continued, pointing towards a very large machine under a canvas cover, ‘is where we decide which kinds of people should be included in which worlds. We use this to test our worlds – you can call it a hypothesis machine of sorts – and it saves us the risk and waste of creating a world that will destroy itself within an insubstantial period of time.’

‘Do you create worlds in the present, or right from their beginnings?’ Art leaned over the rail to get a closer look at the lab below.

‘Right from the beginning. And right to the end.’ Mr. Sept clapped his hands and whistled.

Two men emerged from a door and stood in the middle of the lab, looking up at Mr. Sept for the order. One of them had powder down his front; the other was bent over in a hunch, his hand nervously fidgeting in his pocket.

‘Show us how the hypothesis machine works, boys!’

Twilight spork

2008-09-18T20:41:00.008+08:00

In pictures.

This be the occupation of my free time.

Nano 16

2007-11-30T02:24:00.001+08:00

The man raised his head and squinted in the bright light. Then he reeled back from the cat washing itself calmly in the middle of the room as though he was afraid of it.

‘Relax,’ the cat said coolly from under its left hind leg, ‘I’m here. The girl’s got a message for you.’

The man clutched the back of the chair and stood up shakily. He nodded a few times, an uncertain smile growing on his pale face. ‘What did she say?’ he said hoarsely.

‘Not really the girl, mind you, since it took me a hard time to convince her that you’re her dad.’ The cat put its leg down and began washing its ears. ‘But the lady did understand, and she sent a message.’

‘Well what did she say?’

‘She said to make you wait here. Stick it out until she gets to you, or one of the kids manages to meet you. Do not – and she stressed on this – give in to what they want, because you’ll lose however you look at it.’

The man sagged and sat down on the floor. He rubbed his face with both hands, as though his despair was too much to bear mentally. The cat padded over to him and placed a paw on his knee.

‘Look, I know it’s been a long time,’ the cat reasoned, ‘but a few more days will be enough, she said. She’s been having problems herself, what with the kids not believing in her and the old man getting in the way, but believe me, she’s doing the best she can. Stick it out here, old guy, and she’ll be here in time to bust you out.’

‘True,’ the man agreed gloomily, ‘but it’s really humiliating when they start shouting at me. And they’ve started using threats.’ He sighed, clearly upset with his situation.

‘There’s something, though,’ the cat ventured cautiously, ‘that I heard on the way to the girl. The glams…I think they’re working for them.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ the man said sharply. ‘I thought you said that the glams have always been independent people, except that they made that deal with the Queen decades ago for their own protection.’

‘Weeell…’ The cat stretched its front and back legs. ‘So they did, but what you have to know, is that the glams are those you would call a rather “outside” group of people among the Little People. They say they’re loyal to the Queen – true – but if ever they get a chance to earn a little bit for their own, they’ll jump quick as you please to the chance before anyone hears of it, believe me.’

‘So…the glams are on their side too?’ The man buried his face in his hands. ‘And is she safe?’

‘She’s escaped them, or lost them somehow. It was because of the lady, I reckon. But the glams are still after her…and there were two men…’

‘This is stupid!’ the man burst out. ‘Can’t I do anything besides waiting here uselessly for someone to rescue me? Don’t you know the way out or something? I can’t sit here and wait till I hear of – of – something unfortunate, or they do something bad to her!’

‘I am trying,’ the cat said soothingly, ‘and so are the others. The girl could have asked her friend for help, but he’s no good, too young and inexperienced. She’s with the other boy they’re after, but even he’s decided to trust the lady and go along with her plans.’

‘Do you think…there’s any chance…?’

The question hung in the awkward pause, more questions crowding in the space of unspoken words; questions which would be too horrible to think of or even speak. The cat met the man’s fearful eyes steadily and said nothing. Perhaps this was one of the times when silence was better than answers, or even vague allusions and comforting words.

‘I guess I’ll just have to wait,’ the man muttered, climbing back onto his chair. ‘I’ll wait; I’ll stick it out here, and hope that they’ll come.’

‘They will,’ the cat said. He sounded confident and sure, but he didn’t meet the man’s eyes as he said it.

There was another pause, a longer and less awkward one this time, during which the man stared into space and the cat commenced its washing. Presently the man got up and fetched a plate and a glass of milk from the shelf running along the opposite wall. The cat watched as he poured the milk into the plate and set it on the floor.

‘Thank you.’ A pink tongue began lapping at the milk hungrily. The man buried his fingers in the cat’s warm fur and scratched its head and ears absently.

‘I could give them what they want, you know,’ the man said when the cat had finished the milk.

Green eyes glared at him balefully as the cat licked its paw and went to work on its face. The man did not notice the look, because if he had, he would not have continued with, ‘I could bargain with them…maybe they’ll let me have Emily in exchange for what I’ll tell them?’

The cat growled, low. The man took his fingers away in surprise.

‘Are you stupid?’ The cat arched its back and walked in a circle round the man. ‘They won’t give you anything you ask until they have what they want.’

‘That’s what I said,’ the man said uncertainly.

‘What they want is to have you working with them permanently! Do you think they’ll let you have your daughter back? If Emily comes back to you, that would mean that you won’t be working for them, you see. She’s an obstacle to them, something to be removed with minimum fuss in the shortest time possible. And then they’ll have you in their grip, and they won’t let you go, believe me. They’re doing it right now,’ the cat finished, looking as severe as a cat could.

‘But – but maybe – ‘ the man began desperately.

‘Don’t say anything about this anymore,’ the cat cut through his words. ‘I warn you. If they hear what you were thinking, they’d do much worse than removing the girl from you. They’re capable of it, and you know it. Look what they’ve done to her – she thinks her father is Langdon, not you! Don’t you get it? She’s a whole new person.’

The man was silent, but he was beginning to rock back and forth as though in pain.

‘I know this is difficult,’ the cat said, in a gentler tone, ‘but nobody said it was going to be easy. Even you were shocked by what they did when you first came here. And the boy – well the boy escaped with sheer luck and some help from people, but even he’s in as much danger as the girl. If he believes in the lady, Emily will have to go along with it. It’s true that we don’t know what the lady is up to – but then again, she’s the Dream Lady, and nobody knows for sure about her plans at any given time anyway. It’s part of her nature, and right now, I’d say it’s a pretty smart thing to do, keeping quiet, because it’d confuse them. The kids would have to go with her whether they like it or not.’

‘But how do I know whether to trust her, Mac?’

‘I do,’ the cat replied stoutly. ‘Trust me. I have my instincts. When I first saw her, I knew she was going to be…well, not bad would be pretty accurate, because I don’t know about good. The old man though – that I’m worried about. I wonder what he’s going to do…’

‘Mac?’ the man whispered suddenly, lowering his head to look the cat in the eye. ‘Do you think she could be Emily’s mother?’

‘What?’ The cat was startled with the suggestion, even with its knowledge and understanding of what was going on.

‘I know it sounds stupid…but…well, you see, Emily’s mother didn’t die, not exactly.’ The man sighed and sat up. ‘She left us. Emily was very young then, too young to understand that her mother had left us. I…I told her that her mother was dead, because it’d be too hard for me to explain to her that her mother had just left…it’s stupid, I know, thinking this, but just for a moment, it sounded a lot like – like her mother.’

The cat watched the man for several seconds, during which the man’s eyes roved all over the room without seeming to take in what he was seeing, and his lips twitched as though he had lost control of them. The man seemed to be losing his mind, which wasn’t surprising, when you considered what they were putting him through every day…

Mac didn’t know sympathy, empathy, or even pity. Cats didn’t go in much for feelings…but Mac felt at that moment that he would very much like to help the man despite having most of the odds against him. It wasn’t what you would call compassion…or even kindness…Mac just saw it as a duty, a responsibility. Cats weren’t sentimental people after all.

‘I promise you that the girl will meet you,’ the cat said softly. ‘Just hang in there, Mr. Lang.’

And then the cat slipped through the bars of one of the walls, and within a few seconds he was a shadow moving silently along the empty passages.

The blindfolds were yanked off unceremoniously. Art squinted in the bright light of the room, his eyes watering in the sudden assault of light. He raised a hand and touched his face; all seemed to be working all right. Then he turned to his left and right. Iris was slumped on the sofa beside him, her eyes closed, a peaceful dreamy expression on her face.

‘You’re awake,’ said Mr. Sept.

Art looked up at the man opposite him, and went on staring.

There were three Mr. Septs sitting in different chairs ranged in a semicircle before him. Art studied each face to discern which he thought would be an illusion or someone in disguise to confuse him, but all three had the same expressions. And then he realized that the three of them had some minor differences from each other…they were all of different ages.

The one nearest to Art, who looked about twenty – judging by the smooth handsome young face – was evidently the youngest, and he leaned over and placed a hand on the arm on the sofa. Art recoiled and looked into the man’s searching eyes calmly.

‘What do you want?’ the boy said coldly.

‘An interesting young man, you are,’ the youngest Mr. Sept remarked, but he said it as though it was for the other Mr. Septs to hear, not Art. ‘Fascinating.’

‘Well what do you want?’ Art moved a little closer to Iris, who remained asleep or unconscious.

‘To know about you,’ said the Mr. Sept in the middle; he looked about forty. His voice was gruff and low, and sounded as though he was perpetually annoyed – or even angry – with everything in general. The look he had as he watched Art was one laden with dislike.

‘What?’ Art said, perplexed, turning to look at the middle Mr. Sept. The man looked back at him haughtily, with an undisguised sneer on his lined face.

‘To know about you,’ the last Mr. Sept repeated, but in softer tones. Art turned to him this time.

The last Mr. Sept was the one he met and knew, Art reckoned. The angry look in the eyes had softened to one of cynical enquiry, as though the man was waiting for you to do something harmful or offensive to him with no cause for it. There was something colder in the look too, suggesting that if there was any way to measure friendliness between him and the younger Mr. Sept, he would be the one with the knife in your side before you had a chance to react.

‘I’ve been with you for weeks,’ Art replied. He kept his eyes on the elderly man and waited for an answer.

He was angry, definitely. He had thought Mr. Sept was good, but he had been fooled…maybe he should have listened to Laurel before he left. She hadn’t wanted him to leave – but it was too late, too late now.

Iris tossed fretfully beside him and flung out an arm. He leaned back in time before her hand slapped him on the cheek. The youngest Mr. Sept laughed, more out of nastiness than amusement.

‘What do you want?’ Art asked, yet again.

They were testing him, he realized. They were waiting for his nerve to break, for him to start groveling to them on his knees, for him to beg. Well he wasn’t going to that – not yet – no, not at all. He would show them that he wasn’t a naïve young boy to be bullied and shoved about to do what they liked with him –

‘You do know that we are testing you,’ the middle Mr. Sept said.

‘But it’s for your own good,’ the oldest Mr. Sept continued.

‘For everyone’s good,’ the youngest Mr. Sept supplied promptly.

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Art said carefully. ‘What – do – you – want?’

‘To see your reactions, your thoughts, your emotions,’ the middle Mr. Sept answered.

‘And why was I selected for this test?’

‘Because you were a suitable candidate – you had all the necessary characteristics we needed.’ The youngest Mr. Sept got up from his seat and began to pace around the circle of the other Mr. Septs and the sofa with Art and Iris.

‘And what are they?’

‘The fact that you were part of the lady’s plans was the main qualifying aspect for us to choose you, of course,’ the middle Mr. Sept said sardonically.

‘I – what?’

‘She chose you, so we decided to choose you too,’ the oldest Mr. Sept explained. ‘Not hard to get your head round that eh, boy?’

‘No – why did she choose me?’

‘Ah.’ The youngest Mr. Sept stopped beside Art and draped an arm along the back of the sofa. ‘That’s what we want to know too.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ the oldest Mr. Sept said. ‘She never told you anything, did she? She only told you to trust her, and you did, boy. Stupid, in a way, but I suppose you thought she was trying to rescue you.’

‘Rescue me from what? I wasn’t in any danger – ‘

‘Ah, but you were,’ the youngest Mr. Sept cut in, ‘you were in danger, but you didn’t quite realize it. You thought it was the girl all along, but you were in as much danger as she was. But you went along with the lady…why?’

‘I know her,’ Art said cautiously.

‘In your dreams, yes,’ the middle Mr. Sept laughed nastily. ‘Indeed.’

‘She is the Dream Lady.’ Art gave a look with the same intensity of dislike as the one the man was giving him.

‘Naturally.’ The middle Mr. Sept smirked and turned to the oldest, as though they had some unspoken agreement then and there that it was his turn to stop talking and let the other explain.

‘Do you really want to know why you are here, Art?’ the oldest Mr. Sept asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Even if it would mean that you have to let the girl go?’

‘What?’

‘I said: if we were to tell you why we want you and why you are here, we would see it necessary to put the girl…elsewhere.’

‘Why can’t she stay?’

‘We have our reasons, Art.’

‘Tell me then.’

The cold eyes stared him down, but Art was determined not to give in. Anger was growing somewhere amid the fear, but it was rising too slowly, and soon he would buckle under the strain and give in…

‘Art,’ the Mr. Sept he thought he knew said, ‘we’re doing this for your own good.’

‘No, tell me the real reason, Mr. Sept. I’m not stupid.’

‘He’s doing a good impression of it,’ the middle Mr. Sept rumbled meanly.

‘Listen to me, Art,’ the older Mr. Sept continued, waving away his younger self’s words, ‘the lady is not who you think she is. We think – ‘

Art laughed in his face, a short barking laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. He couldn’t help it, but it did achieve its desired effect. Mr. Sept’s expression grew noticeably colder, and for the first time, anger flicked on and off on the usually immovable face.

‘You don’t understand this, Art.’

‘I don’t, yes, but nobody’s telling me anything.’

‘When will you listen to us, Art?’

‘When it’s necessary.’

‘I suppose the death of a friend would make it necessary, yes?’ the youngest Mr. Sept piped up gaily.

‘No, you’re not taking her,’ Art retorted fiercely, grabbing hold of Iris’s arm.

The three Mr. Septs laughed: the youngest with the hearty laughter of youth, the middle with his jeering snigger and the oldest with a cold mirthless chuckle. They all sounded mean, however. It was laughter that clearly said You’re losing, give up now before you get hurt. But we wouldn’t mind supplying the hurt, you see?

‘I meant Jonas,’ the oldest Mr. Sept said, in the misleadingly gentle tone of voice one normally used when telling someone of the death of a friend or relative. ‘He makes a good hostage.’

‘He didn’t do anything wrong.’ Art released Iris, feeling the girl stir. If she woke up now, it might just make things worse. Iris didn’t believe in patience and listening to people…no, he didn’t think so; she believed in yelling and threatening people until they gave her what she wanted. It sounded similar to the way the three men were talking to him right now…

‘Wrong? Who said there has to be justice in what we do, boy?’

‘It’s – but he doesn’t have anything to do with this!’

‘Of course he does,’ the youngest Mr. Sept said lazily, ‘he’s the hostage we’re going to use to make you give in to us. And he would be very important to us when we speak to the girl, I believe.’

‘This is what you’ll do.’ Art crossed his arms and looked at each Mr. Sept with equal dislike. ‘And you wouldn’t care if you did anything wrong, because right and wrong don’t apply to you.’

‘Correct, Art,’ the eldest Mr. Sept said mildly. ‘Good. You’re beginning to get a grasp on things. And now, to business…’

And Art listened, and said little, and waited for the men to tell him more. All the while he was listening, he checked Iris from time to time, to make sure that she was still asleep. She might have been drugged, but he wasn’t sure, and maybe it was for the best.

And he listened, and waited. It was all he could do.

And several floors down in his room, Mr. Lang watched the white walls and waited for the cat, or the lady, or even his daughter to find him.

And further down, in what would be called the cellars, the lady waited in the darkness. She was used to this; it had all been waiting since things went wrong. It was all just a matter of time – and maybe space and sheer will from everyone involved – before things could be put right to their proper order and places.

Mac, meanwhile, stalked the lanes in an unknown world and paused. Then he slid into the space under the hedges and went still, his ears and eyes alert for any sign of movement. He was waiting. The glams would be here soon, and when they did, he would be waiting.

The Queen stared intently at the bowl of black ink in the table before her. The surface was smooth, undisturbed by any wind or stray insect. She continued staring at it for some time, but there must have been something in the ink, because she muttered and frowned now and again.

‘My lady,’ one of the handmaidens said quietly, coming up to the Queen with her head bent apologetically, ‘the King has summoned you to meet him now.’

‘Is that so?’ The Queen waved away the handmaiden, irritated. Evidently the sight – or could it be sound? – she saw in the ink had affected her.

‘My lady…’ the handmaiden said uncertainly.

‘No, Eolis, tell him that I’m busy,’ the Queen snapped with uncharacteristic brusqueness. ‘I will see him later.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ The handmaiden curtsied and scurried away, unpleasantly surprised with the Queen’s cold manner.

The door to the observatory banged open dramatically half an hour later. A man strode into the room, long cloak dragging its hem on the draughty stone floor. He paused halfway across the room with a bemused expression on his face. The Queen had turned her back on him pointedly the moment he entered the room. He cleared his throat politely – probably to indicate the presence of his throat, not that he was in any way cold – and straightened his square glasses.

‘Titania, darling?’ he said hesitantly.

‘Hasn’t Eolis told you that I would see you later?’ the Queen replied coldly. She circled the table, all the while watching the ink in the bowl.

‘She did.’ The man shrugged and approached the table at a safe distance.

Titania raised her head, and then her eyebrows. She waited for the man to speak with her head on one side. She clearly was in no mood to listen to him or tolerate any of his caprices. The tilt of the head confirmed his suspicions.

‘I – I had some news – ‘

‘Is it about the glams, Oberon?’

‘Ah yes, of course, how very astute of you – ‘

‘The cat is watching out for them. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.’

‘The cat, you mean?’

‘Yes, Oberon. A strange creature, one with human intelligence…’

‘So, erm, why is he involved in this?’

‘He’s doing it for the man, but does he know what might happen – ‘

‘Perhaps I can send some of the recon elves to check on him?’

There was a pause, but it was a thoughtful one. Titania stared into the space several inches above her husband’s shoulder, a slow smile spreading across her face.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘of course…’

‘Titania, love?’

‘The boy still has the Demand to fulfill, but it’s my right to ask him for anything, and that would mean that I can ask him for…’

Oberon watched as the Queen seemed to glide across the room to the floor-length windows facing north. Titania leant over the ledge and looked down at the sheer drop to the ocean below, where waved crashed and hurled themselves on the rocks in the storm. Inside the observatory, all was quiet and still. It was amazing what reinforced glass panes could keep out, besides the occasional gull and the little bits that it kindly leaves to mark its presence, of course.

‘Titania?’ he said, edging over to the windows to her.

‘Thank you, Oberon,’ she said graciously. For just a fraction of a moment, her eyes glowed greenish-gold. Oberon took a step back, still uncertain.

‘Where is the cat then?’

‘He’s in…’ Titania paused to look out the window again, but this time her eyes were fixed on the gray sky with the stormy clouds mirroring the sea. She sighed and drew a circle on the glass with the tip of a finger. ‘Do you remember those dream worlds we discovered a few years ago – those worlds that only exist to fool you, or to form a bridge between the real ones?’

‘Yes, of course. I was in one myself for a month.’

‘The cat’s there. Can your elves get to him immediately?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Oberon nodded, straightening his glasses again. ‘Right away, dear.’

Titania watched him leave the room, and then she turned back to Eolis. The handmaiden hurried towards her, wary of any angry words from her lady.

‘Eolis,’ the Queen said sweetly, ‘look into the bowl for a minute, will you? And tell me what you see, please.’

Eolis did as she was told. When the minute was up, she continued staring into the black ink unblinkingly in a sort of fascinated horror. Titania took note of the expression on the girl’s face and shrugged.

‘Well, what do you see?’

‘I see…’ Eolis gulped a few times, as though she was trying not to scream. ‘I see…’

‘Go on,’ the Queen urged patiently.

‘I see…well, worlds collapsing and being destroyed. And someone is manipulating energy, lots of it, and creating new worlds. But people are being displaced, left in places they should never be and – and – these new worlds seem…wrong…somehow. And then there’s a girl, and a lady I think I’ve seen before, a young man trying to save himself – ‘

‘Good.’ Titania pulled the horrified Eolis away from the bowl.

‘It’s terrible,’ Eolis sniffed. She wiped her eyes on the corner of her sleeve and sighed heavily. ‘Who is this person doing these terrible things?’

‘Do you think it’s just one person?’ the Queen mused.

‘You mean there’s more than one?’ Eolis gasped.

‘No no, I think there are a few people doing these things together, working in harmony, so to speak.’

‘Do you have any idea who they might be?’

Titania looked into the fearful wide eyes of the girl and wondered about it. No, nobody knew for sure. But Nyamph had had some idea, hadn’t she; it was she, Titania, who had not thought to ask because she was too prejudiced to see that Nyamph could have been right all this time…

‘No, I don’t,’ Titania replied softly. ‘But I know someone who does.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘She,’ Titania corrected. ‘She is in danger, though. I must go to her. Immediately.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the King, my lady?’

‘He’d be busy,’ Titania said vaguely, going over to the windows again. ‘Mind the doors, Eolis.’

The glass panes slid apart, and the rain and wind howled and raged into the observatory. Titania climbed onto the wide ledge – she had built it specifically for this purpose – and held her arms out into the storm. The wind caught her dress and threatened to drag her over and fling her on the rocks below. She murmured a few words, and the wind dropped noticeably in a sort of cocoon around her. The rain seemed to form a soft shimmering shell around her, fragile and silver. Titania turned to give one last reassuring look to Eolis, who had backed against the door to prevent the wind from pulling her to the window, before stepping out onto thin air.

‘This I give to thee,’ Titania spoke into the storm, stepping deliberately up the stairs that materialized under her feet at every step. ‘The gift that I give to thee…’

A semblance of a face swirled and grew in the clouds, where the lightning flashed most frequently and blindingly. A mouth opened in the darkest part, and eyes seemed to roam over the sea and observatory as though the face in the clouds was searching for someone. The gaze halted when it found Titania ascending the rain stair upwards into the clouds.

‘What is it?’ the voice of the storm spoke. A thunder clap drowned out all other sounds in the air and at sea.

‘This I give to thee,’ Titania said, holding out one hand to the face. The other hand was stretched towards the observatory, where a thin glowing line reached from within the room and separated to bury itself in the tips of her fingers.

‘Do you think I will be tempted with your magic?’ the voice thundered.

‘No, I do not think that.’ Titania smiled. ‘But I do know what you want.’

‘Storms do not have desires,’ the voice rumbled. But it sounded slightly uncertain this time.

‘Are you sure?’ The smile grew wider, surer. Titania stepped a few more paces up the stair. Heat and light shimmered and crackled around her, but she was safe in the cocoon of rain.

‘Are you testing me, Lady Titania?’ The eyes in the storm narrowed.

‘Perhaps.’ Titania held her hand up higher. ‘But you have to admit that things which can think for themselves and have the capacity to feel usually do have desires.’

‘I’m an elemental!’ the voice roared. Lightning sizzled across the sky and threatened to pierce through the Queen’s protective cocoon, but the electrical charges were discharged in snaking golden lines all over the surface of the cocoon.

‘I know,’ the Queen continued calmly, ‘and you would still be, if you had not fallen in love with a girl.’

‘I do not know what you mean.’ The face began to swirl angrily in the clouds, the features distorting and dispersing in the sudden sharp wind. A hurricane was brewing, with Titania in the center of it.

‘You were in love with the Dream Lady,’ Titania finished, stepping onto the last step of the rain stair. She brought the other hand to clasp the one held out to the face. ‘And perhaps you still are. She is in trouble, and needs help from others who would not normally pay attention to her. Do you hear me?’

There was a sort of pause in the storm, and the wind died down marginally. The face arranged itself into a clearer shape, and this time Titania could discern a shape growing within the black masses of the clouds. A gap appeared between the clouds, showing the blue sky behind it, but it closed as a figure emerged and walked towards the rain stair. The face slowly faded and vanished.

‘Ah, Lady Titania,’ said the man. He held out a hand to her. She took it and guided him onto the stair graciously.

‘So glad you could speak to me,’ she said.

‘Of course.’ The man nodded, and gave her a shrewd look. ‘What is it you want? Is Lady Nyamph in trouble?’

‘Yes, she is. I suppose it is partly my fault, but now I feel it is my duty to put things right. She came to ask me for my help before – indirectly, of course – but I turned her away. I am sorry for that, because I see now that she had bigger plans on her mind. I can’t say where she is now…but she does need your help.’

‘What can I do?’ the man said fretfully. ‘I’m just an elemental in the shape of someone who looks like a man. The gods laugh at me, Titania.’

‘They laugh at Nyamph too,’ Titania said immovably. ‘But does she heed their laughter and contempt? No, and you have to admire her for that. She doesn’t have it easy, having to deal with humans and their selfish desires, but now she’s in danger for trying to help them, and with not so much of a thank you in the future.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ the man said, stroking his ragged beard.

‘Find her,’ Titania said simply. ‘You’re an element – the wind and rain and storm. You will be able to enter places people will die trying to get into, and you will not be detected or hurt. Whoever who has her captive is underestimating her, I think. For who would capture dreams and tie them up like an animal?’

‘I see your point.’ The man nodded briefly. ‘And so I shall do it.’

‘Thank you.’ Lady Titania dropped into a curtsy.

The man smiled at her, all hostility gone. Titania was known for her haughty air, even with the gods, and a curtsy was a compliment indeed.

‘I shall go immediately,’ the man promised. And then he walked back into the clouds – the gap appeared momentarily – and he was gone.

Titania descended the rain stair and onto the wet ledge. The cocoon dissolved around her, water pouring into the observatory. Eolis hurried forward with towels. Outside, the storm subsided gradually and the clouds began to break.

‘I can’t tell what will happen,’ the Queen said as the handmaiden helped her to dry off.

Eolis nodded in agreement. ‘Will it be possible futures again?’

‘Yes.’ The Queen sighed and shut the windows. ‘And now we wait.’

Art held Iris’s head in his arms and said nothing.

The girl was still asleep, deep in some dream that made her whimper and moan in pain. She had been threshing round in her sleep an hour ago, and had only stopped when Art yelled at one of the Mr. Septs to stop doing whatever he was doing on her mind.

He knew the three Mr. Septs now…Alpha was the youngest, who was vain and arrogant. Theta was the middle one, nasty and acidic. The eldest one was the Mr. Sept he knew: Omega, the one with the most wisdom and understanding, and yet at the same time, he was the coldest and hardest to read.

They had prodded him, wheedled, and in the case of Theta, yelled abuses at him. Art had sat where he was, cradling Iris’s head, feeling the clammy forehead and wiping the perspiration off when she got too agitated. She seemed to calm down when he did that, and with the madness that was going on around him now, it was the only thing Art could do for her.

They were playing with her mind, he knew. He had heard about what they had done, what they were still doing – not everything, of course, because Mr. Sept at any age wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell him everything. He had sat and listened to their procedures and plans for modifying memories beyond recognition, their “relocation” of “displaced people”, and how they had shut down the worlds one by one.

So they had been the one. The Management – like any other organization, there had to be a head and subordinates. Mr. Sept had merely got rid of the subordinates and had three heads instead, all working together with the same objectives and intent because they were the same. Alpha, Theta and Omega – they could understand each other perfectly, contribute what they had without creating conflict, and in a way, even read each other’s minds and emotions. It was management co-operation made perfect, without the unnecessary meetings and discussions and “creative disagreements”.

‘Tell me how you created these worlds,’ Art ventured several hours later. His voice had gone hoarse, though he had accepted the occasional drink from the Omega Mr. Sept who had the most manners, at least.

‘Trade secret,’ Alpha said, laughing unpleasantly.

‘Did you use energy?’ Art said quietly.

‘Clever,’ Omega replied, his eyes boring into Art. ‘Quite so. You’ve been reading, boy. And how do we use this energy to create worlds, pray tell?’

‘You…concentrate it, and manipulate it to create the worlds.’ Art bent his head and pushed Iris’s damp hair off her face. ‘Oneiric energy.’

‘Ah, I see. And what else?’

‘Oneiric energy…it changes time and space, doesn’t it? And it somehow distorts reality – it’s what people call magic, but it’s not really, because you’ve found a way to understand and use it…’

‘Clever boy!’ Theta clapped and smirked. He could make a clap sound patronizing and mocking, but Art chose to ignore it.

‘Quite so,’ Omega said. He brought the tips of his fingers together and surveyed Art over his hands. ‘And now tell me why we’ve broken up these worlds after putting in all the work to build them.’

‘You…you…well, from what you said earlier, I can guess that you’re planning something…destructive.’

‘Oh?’ Omega nodded in amusement. ‘Destructive, is it? And why is it destructive?’

‘Because you’re planning to change reality in this world?’

‘Almost there, boy,’ Alpha said. ‘But not quite.’

‘There’s someone else in this, isn’t it?’ Art said sharply.

‘Was,’ Omega corrected gently. ‘There was someone else working with us. And now she will be…disposed.’

‘You mean Iris?’

‘No, not her!’ Theta barked. ‘We don’t need her for this – she’d be too stupid to work with us in creating new worlds!’

‘Thank you, Theta,’ Omega said coldly.

‘It’s…the Dream Lady.’ Art bit back a gasp. ‘She was in this the whole time.’

‘Correct.’ Omega shook his head regretfully. ‘But she seems to have got funny ideas, hasn’t she?’

‘You mean she didn’t want to help you in destroying worlds!’

‘Quite so,’ Alpha agreed cheerfully. ‘We can’t have people trying to disrupt The Management, can we?’

‘No, even if it means deaths,’ Art continued softly.

Omega nodded, with an air of finality. ‘I see you have understood. Now will you help us?’

‘No.’

‘It would mean that one more life can be saved.’ Omega’s eyes flickered meaningfully towards Iris.

‘Tell me what you want then.’ Art made his face grow hard, but inside he was quaking. He couldn’t do this, what if something went horribly wrong, and what about Jonas –

‘Help us to persuade a poor confused man to co-operate with us,’ Alpha said pleasantly. ‘Is that not easy?’

‘What will happen to the hostage?’

‘Ah, the hostage.’ Theta’s face creased into a mocking grin. ‘He will be dealt with.’

‘Patience,’ Omega reminded him, restraining him with a hand. ‘He will be seen to.’

‘If I help you,’ Art said, choosing his words as best as he knew how, ‘will you spare two lives instead of one?’

‘That will not be a problem.’ Alpha shrugged. ‘If we see that it’s okay.’

‘I mean Iris and Jonas.’

A look of mild surprise came over Omega’s face. ‘What about the Dream Lady?’

Art felt something go hard inside him, as though part of him were turning to ice. He felt betrayed, naturally, and cheated. The lady had seemed so trustworthy, so honest…and yet she had been working with these deranged men all along. Why should he continue to trust her? She had pushed him around all this time, and made him look like a fool. Besides, she hadn’t even told him what she had planned to do before she was caught.

‘What about her?’ he said at last.

Nano 15

2007-11-25T15:36:00.000+08:00

The man raised his head as several guards walked into the room, the hard soles of their shoes click-clacking on the polished white floor. The guard at the head of the group, evidently the leader, pointed silently at him and beckoned with his finger. The man stood up slowly, keeping a hand on the back of his chair. There seemed to be an impression of instability about him, as though he was about to lose his balance and topple over or lose his calm at any moment.

‘What is it this time?’ the man asked, voice ragged with exhaustion and the agonizingly long wait in the room. He clung to the chair as though he could hardly support himself without it. The guard cleared his throat to indicate his impatience and took out a slip of paper.

‘Orders,’ the guard barked out, holding out the slip to the man.

The man waved a hand weakly and looked away, his face crumpling with disappointment and – what could only be – fear. The leader guard nodded to the rest behind him, and they spread out across the room and went to their stations in the corners. The man collapsed onto his chair and dropped his head onto the desk before him. A faint sound issued from his unseen lips, something between a whimper and a groan of despair.

The guards waited patiently for another half hour, before the leader left his corner and came to speak to the man. The man remained as he was, bowed over with his face hidden, emitting strange little noises from time to time.

‘Orders,’ the guard repeated, placing a hand lightly on the man’s shoulder. ‘We have been given orders, sir.’ He spoke firmly and respectfully, though with impatience. The person who had given the orders would undoubtedly be irritated with the unnecessary delay and the man’s reluctance to co-operate.

The man groaned loudly; this time it was audible enough to leave no one in any doubt of his feelings. The guard squeezed his shoulder briefly and waited.

A buzz filled the room, a harsh electronic sound issuing from one of the walls. The guard nearest to the sound touched something on the smooth surface of the wall, revealing a flap that had not been noticed till now. There was a camera lens and a speaker behind the flap, and the buzz was coming from the speaker.

‘Yes sir,’ the guard said, standing to attention. The other guards stood a little straighter in their posts and lifted their heads higher.

‘Why is he not in the appointed place?’ a tinny voice said peevishly. ‘I gave the order half an hour ago, and I expected him to be waiting in my office by now. Where is he?’ The lens swiveled smoothly in its socket to survey the room. It halted as its focus was directed on the hunched form of the man at his desk.

‘Sir,’ the leader said, stepping forward and blocking the man from view, ‘we believe that he is under considerable mental stress and needs immediate attention from the psychs. Would it be possible to bring a few here to examine him now?’

‘Are you disobeying me, Alpha 3?’ The tone of the electronic voice had changed swiftly to one of hostility and warning.

‘We are only concerned for the well-being of the man, sir,’ the leader replied, his face betraying no change of emotion.

‘That does not concern me.’ The camera lens rotated in a blur, panning the room at 360 degrees, at all angles. It was impossible to hide anything from the lens.

‘Yes sir,’ the leader said dutifully. ‘We will bring him up to your office right away, sir.’

‘At once,’ the voice commanded.

‘Yes sir,’ the other guards echoed.

The lens did another sweep of the room and then settled back in its groove. The guard who had opened the flap turned to shut it. The leader nodded to the rest. They came away from their posts and stood in a semicircle around the man.

‘It must be done,’ the leader said to the man. His tone was soft, almost coaxing.

The man lifted his head and sighed heavily. ‘I know. But I – I didn’t think it’d be this early. I have given them what they want! What more do they want?’ he cried.

‘Orders, sir,’ the leader said, not losing the coaxing note to his voice. The tone seemed false beneath its apparent sincerity; the guard had been trained to behave in this manner in this situation; he was a professional.

‘I know, I know!’ The man gripped the edge of his desk and stared at the unremarkable white surface. ‘It is now. No time to waste.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The leader nodded once to his colleagues.

Several pairs of hands pulled the man to his feet; several other hands pulled the chair out from beneath him. A pair of hands pulled his fingers loose from the desk and held them in a tight clasp. The man felt himself lifted off his feet and placed onto some material suspended at both ends. He found himself on his back, staring up at the solitary lamp with its bright white light, the only source of light in the room, unending and never switched off, for days, for months, maybe years. The lamp moved out of his sight; they were bearing him out of the room. Through the doorway and along the dark cold corridors – a man in a white coat stepped out from one dark doorway with a syringe and stopped the guards.

‘Orders,’ the man in the coat said.

The man in the coat inserted the needle – he, lying prone and without any desire to move or protest, felt the point of the needle pierce his skin; the sensation was so familiar and frequent over the past days and weeks, and yet his body rebelled involuntarily every time it happened; he had risen to his elbows without realizing it – the man in the coat pushed him down gently and pulled out the needle.

‘He’ll be fine,’ the man in the coat said to the guards. ‘Just a little sedative to help him sleep.’

His eyes were closing – little creeping spots of darkness were drifting in and out of his sight, like oil on the surface of water – he was losing his focus – what were the guards saying now –

A cat slinked between the shadows of the dark corridors and padded silently after the guards and the man on the stretcher. As the little procession descended several stairs, the cat slid through a dark doorway and vanished, lost from the sight of anyone or anything that had been observing it.

It felt as though the world had ended.

Correction, Iris said to herself, the world as we know it has ended. The world itself has not ended, because it exists in itself, and therefore the fact of its existence is confirmed because it is existing at this moment in time and we can perceive that it does, therefore existence per se –

‘Gets a bit crazy after a while eh?’ Art grumbled beside her.

She smiled wanly at him and shrugged. He at least had the same views as she did on the recent developments. The others had been more concerned about action than thought.

Mr. Sept paced before them, thin back bent in the firelight, head down and brows furrowed, pondering the next step to take. Jonas had gone back to sleep and was even now murmuring in his dreams. The cat had left hours ago, presumably to perform the necessary step Mr. Sept had told him to. And the lady –

She sat curled up before the fire with Art’s blanket around her shoulders. Since her sudden appearance, she had not spoken much to the others. She seemed to have found out the facts from the cat without actually speaking to it; the cat had taken for granted that the others would relay the information to her. Art and Iris had not bothered to do so, and Mr. Sept had been too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice.

‘Mac says that the man is guarded at all hours,’ Mr. Sept muttered to himself. ‘That would make it impossible, unless…’

‘Who’s Mac?’ Art asked, stifling a yawn.

‘The cat,’ Iris answered, running her fingers through her hair. She had been doing it on and off since the haircut. It seemed to relieve her agitation in some indefinable way.

‘Didn’t know it had a name.’ Art yawned again, feeling his eyes water.

‘Of course it does,’ Iris said distractedly, ‘and the man told him that it was his – Mac, I mean – name before he started thinking and speaking. Mac thought it’d be all right to adopt the name, since he doesn’t have a clear concept of names anyway.’

‘So Mac’s a he,’ Art concluded. ‘I see.’ Not that it’s an important fact anyway, he wondered sleepily. The cat was a male…and so?

‘I know it doesn’t make sense, but I think I’ve seen Mac before I even saw him,’ Iris mused, chuckling. ‘Odd, since I don’t even like cats that much.’

‘Maybe you have,’ Art joked. ‘In an alternate universe.’

‘That could be possible,’ the lady said gravely. She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders and turned to look at the boy and girl. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that there are other worlds, besides the one you are in at this moment?’

‘It could be,’ Art said, and added as an afterthought, ‘theoretically.’

‘Theorists are not always wrong,’ the lady said. ‘For centuries now their far-fetched theories and predictions have been the basis for scientific breakthroughs and developments. But what if – what if – they were right after the actual event occurred?’

‘Are you saying that there is concrete proof that other worlds exist?’

‘Yes, if you would believe me,’ the lady replied. ‘I can show them to you, or what’s left of them.’

‘Wait, wait,’ Iris interrupted, laughing skeptically, ‘are you lying or do you actually believe that alternate worlds do exist?’ She held up her hands and exclaimed dramatically, ‘Lo and behold!’

‘You think I’m lying.’ The lady shook her head slowly and smiled. ‘But would you believe me after you saw them for yourself?’

‘Well if you can, maybe I would,’ Iris conceded. ‘Show us.’

‘We have to wait till we speak to your father.’ The lady glanced at Mr. Sept, who continued pacing and muttering incoherently, deep in thought. ‘We have to wait for Mac to return.’

‘But he’s just left,’ Iris pointed out, ‘how can he reach my supposed father so soon? It took him weeks to find me.’

‘Oneiric energy.’ The lady shifted her gaze to Art. The boy stared at her, nonplussed.

‘You’re lying,’ he said flatly.

‘Perhaps.’ Lady Nyamph appeared to be unaffected by his accusation. ‘But I know much more of it than you do – no, much more about it than anyone does.’

‘Then show us,’ Iris challenged, rising to her knees. ‘Show us these worlds, and we’ll believe you. Show us the oneiric energy or whatever it is you say you know, and we’ll believe you. Show us that you’re not lying – haven’t been lying to us – and we’ll believe you.’

‘Iris.’ Art pulled her down gently and turned to the lady, ‘Will you?’

‘I would, but this isn’t a convenient time,’ the lady said. ‘I know you haven’t trusted me since we met, Iris, but for now, I would ask you not to jump to conclusions. Whatever I have done, or tried to, was for your sake and Art’s.’

‘Then why were the glams avoiding you?’ Iris raised her head triumphantly, confident that she had spotted the flaw in the argument.

‘Because I suspect that they have already given their loyalty to someone else, someone who wants you,’ the lady replied, unperturbed. ‘Someone who could harm you – perhaps it’s the same person who sent those men to kidnap you. Have you not considered the possibility?’

‘Did you speak to the Queen then?’ Art asked.

‘I have.’ The lady looked down at her feet, her pale cheeks turning pink with some unidentifiable emotion. ‘She did not question the glams’ loyalty; she believes that they will always be loyal to her. She, on her part, thought I was trying to cheat her for my own ends.’ The lady looked up again, meeting Art’s and Iris’s curious eyes. ‘I promise you, I was only trying to help you both. You are both in danger, and yet you don’t realize it, and neither do the others. Trust me.’

‘I don’t know if I should,’ Iris said uncertainly. ‘I really don’t know.’

‘I would…’ Art fiddled with the edge of the blanket, trying his best to arrange his thoughts. ‘But if I do, what will you do next? Can I trust you that you have told us everything?’

‘I haven’t, I admit.’ The lady looked away from Iris’s accusing glare. ‘I will now. However…will you follow whatever I tell you to do, even if I go against Mr. Sept?’

‘That’s stupid!’ Iris burst out. ‘Do you think we’re stupid, lady?’

‘Iris, shh.’ Art placed a restraining hand on her shoulder to prevent her from leaving before the lady had her say. ‘Why do you say that?’ he said to the lady. ‘Do you realize what you’re asking of us?’

‘Of course I do.’ Doubt flitted across her face for a moment, but the expression was immediately replaced by one of reassurance and patience. ‘But are you willing to do that for me?’

‘Yeah right.’ Iris snorted derisively. ‘Agree to go along with a mad lady without knowing what will happen – a clever plan, that is. Amazing. Wonderful. Awesome.’

‘Of course you don’t have to.’ The lady reached over and patted the girl’s arm understandingly. ‘You’re most welcome to live the rest of your life in this illusion while a man who thinks himself your father languishes in prison until they kill him, or fortunately, he dies a natural death. It’s okay if you don’t want to go. You’re part of a story anyway, probably something out of a twisted imagination with nothing else to do.’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Iris mumbled, drawing her hand away in disgust. ‘You’re sick, lady.’

‘Wait, hold on,’ Art cut in impatiently. ‘What do you want us to do then, lady? Does it involve murder? Do we have to risk our lives stupidly only for some other person to cheat us? Or do we have to do what you said – just follow whatever you tell us to?’

‘But she can tell us to murder or do whatever it is!’ Iris argued. ‘Are you going to trust her then?’

‘D’you know what they say about gut instinct?’

‘Yeah?’ Iris snorted and laughed in his face. ‘Am I supposed to follow my gut instinct and go along with this lady?’

‘Not yours,’ Art said, ‘mine.’

‘Ah. Brilliant. And I was thinking of inviting you to my funeral in the near future, but I don’t think that can be arranged because you’d be dead by then too!’ Iris shrieked.

‘Good.’ Mr. Sept stopped and stared at the little group in surprise. ‘What were you saying?’

‘I was telling them something about leading these kids into danger,’ the lady supplied sweetly, ‘and assuring them that it will involve the risk of dying prematurely.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Mr. Sept said. He didn’t sound like he had seen, because he went back to pacing and muttering. Iris stared at the man in shock, but it was clear that he had not heard a word of what the lady had said.

‘I have a feeling about this,’ Iris said, ‘do you remember what I said about minding the nuts?’

‘Yeah.’ Art shrugged. ‘It doesn’t apply in this situation. It would be a pithy saying for future generations perhaps, if we ever had a chance to record it for posterity, but for now – no, I don’t think it’s the appropriate line in this case.’

‘Art!’ The girl pushed him over roughly. ‘What’s up with you? What are we to do now, since the lady insists in trying to kill us?’

‘Believe me; I am not trying to kill you.’ The lady sighed. ‘I was only trying to convince you that I may know much more than Mr. Sept does or would know, and that it would be wiser for you two to follow me instead of listening to the orders of a man who clearly does not know what will happen to him.’

‘And why will we do that?’ Iris got up and went over to the window, obviously not interested to hear the answer.

‘A stubborn young lady is she not?’ the lady observed wryly. ‘My time is running out, dear, and if you could be so kind as to help me finish this quick, I’d be very much obliged to you. Besides, there’s the whole messy business with the fairy’s death.’ Her expression changed to sympathy as she turned to Art. ‘I am sorry…but though Mr. Sept did say that he would bear the responsibility of the Queen’s Demand, I’m afraid that she will insist on having you, as you were the last person to speak to the fairy.’ She leaned in close to whisper, ‘Did you know her name?’

‘Erm, no.’ Art shook his head sheepishly. ‘She never told me, and I kind of…forgot to ask. It didn’t seem necessary for me to address her by her name. Erm. Do you know?’

‘No.’ The lady tapped a finger against her nose. ‘It would help if we knew her name, because then you would be able…never mind. What’s done is done, and you’ll still have to bear the Queen’s Demand.’

‘What is the Queen’s Demand then?’

‘The Queen has the right to ask for compensation for the fairy’s death, and she has the right to ask for anything – from a life to gold to your company for seven years with her.’

Art gulped. ‘Anything, you say?’

‘Yes, unfortunately.’

A gasp from Iris caught their attention. She backed away from the window, mouth open in horror.

‘What is it?’ the lady said, leaping to her feet.

‘Men with firearms…help!’

The lady clapped a hand over the girl’s mouth and pulled her away from the window. She nodded to Art, who got up immediately. Mr. Sept was frozen in place, mouthing soundlessly as he watched the men coming nearer and nearer to the house.

‘Now do you believe me?’ the lady hissed. ‘Grab my hand.’

Art reached for her hand and held on tight. The floor seemed to tilt, against all laws of physics. Mr. Sept lunged across the room to grab Art, but before he was halfway there –

The door burst open, and the collective clicks of firearms being held ready to shoot could be heard –

Liz was at the doorway, screaming –

The lady yelled and then they were –

They landed on something soft, which split and swished all around them.

Art was the first to get to his feet. The sight that met his eyes made him sit down again. The lady grinned at him, releasing her tight hold on Iris. The girl collapsed onto her back, mouth still open in a silent scream.

They were in a vast field of sunflowers.

‘No shit,’ Iris said.

‘Yes it is, but it isn’t shit,’ the lady said happily. ‘Right on time and in the right place too!’ she crowed jubilantly. ‘I’m not that far gone yet, you hear me? I’m not dead!’ she yelled to no one in particular.

‘This is crazy.’ It seemed that this place still could not erase the old cliché of someone stating the obvious, i.e. “This is crazy”, when the evidence of their sight could not be denied and it was telling them emphatically: yes, they were sitting in the middle of a field of sunflowers and therefore it wasn’t crazy because they were not crazy, were they? Art shook his head in amazement, surprised that that thought could occur to him in a place like this. It was that problem with the pinball machines again…what were pinball machines anyway?

‘What are pinball machines?’ he said to the lady, who stared back at him in equal perplexity.

‘Where are we?’ Iris demanded.

‘In another world,’ the lady replied nonchalantly. ‘It’s a funny world, isn’t it?’

‘It’s made up of…sunflowers?’ Art ventured. ‘Then yeah, it is funny.’

‘No,’ the lady laughed, ‘what I meant was that each world is unique, of course, but we tend to think that anything that doesn’t conform to our ideas of normal would be “funny”. I was just…joking. You know – irony?’

‘Yeah, whatever.’ Iris threw the lady a dirty look and sat up. ‘Now get us out of here.’

‘I can’t.’ The lady threw up her hands and giggled. ‘I need to know the edges and characteristics of this world first, and it might take days and days.’

‘Any other suggestions?’ Iris whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Art shrugged. Sunflowers bent in the breeze, huge yellow heads touching his face and head lightly. The lady spread her arms above her head, setting more sunflowers to sway. This world felt completely empty, devoid of humans and animals – not insects though, because a bee just buzzed past his ear – with mile upon mile of sunflowers.

‘Sunflower fields forever, har har.’ It sounded like a bleak joke. Iris agreed with him, by the look she was giving him.

‘Don’t worry.’ The lady waded through the sea of sunflowers a short distance away. The sunflowers reached her shoulders at their tallest, but several were only up to her waist.

‘How about this – you grab her legs and I hold down her arms?’ Iris said in an undertone to Art. The lady half-turned to look back, but she couldn’t have heard; Iris had spoken too softly.

‘Wait. I want to see what she’ll do,’ Art whispered back. ‘I know this is crazy – I’m having trouble believing this – but she’s proven that what she said was true, right? There are alternate worlds that we didn’t know existed all this time.’

‘Yeah yeah.’ Iris rolled her eyes, reluctant to admit that the lady was right after all. ‘So what do we do now – follow her or what?’

‘Yep, we follow her, and hope that she gets us out of here.’

‘Oh she will.’

‘And how do you know that, miss?’

‘Mac. We have to meet that guy who says he’s my dad, right? If Mac can find us here, he’ll tell us the way out!’

‘Hey you’re right.’ Art grinned at her, seeing a smirk developing on her face. ‘Amazing – you’re using your brain to think!’

‘Oh shove off. Hold it. What’s she doing now?’

The lady had stopped wading through the flowers and stood unmoving in one spot, her head bent as though she was thinking. The other two waited for her to move, puzzled and worried. Then the lady raised her head and waved them over to her.

‘Should we go to her?’ Iris said hesitantly. ‘I think there’s something up…she looks worried.’

‘Do we have a choice, do you think?’ Art said, gingerly making his way over to the lady as best as he could without squashing more sunflowers.

‘We do, we always do.’ Iris followed after him, stomping over sunflowers without concern to relieve her irritation and frustration. ‘We could just stay here till someone finds us or something.’

‘Or nothing, Iris,’ Art pointed out, ‘we could be the only ones in this place. And then we’d starve to death before anyone found us.’

‘We could eat sunflower seeds.’ Iris yanked at a particularly tall stalk and poked him in the back with the large flower head. ‘I like sunflower seeds.’

‘Well I don’t. Now try not to make too much trouble, all right?’

‘I think I know,’ the lady said when they reached her.

‘Know what?’ Art noticed the frown, the worry lines at the corner of the lady’s eyes, and held out a warning hand behind his back to Iris.

‘The way out.’ The lady scanned the horizon and shaded her eyes. ‘I don’t know if they’ve changed anything.’

‘Who are they?’

‘They – they’re the same people who has your father, Iris.’

‘I don’t know which father you’re talking about,’ Iris said haughtily.

‘The man you think is your father does not concern me right now,’ the lady retorted, her eyes narrowing. ‘I’m trying to help you here.’

‘Yes yes.’ Art stepped between them hastily. ‘Sorry. What were you saying, lady?’

‘Call me Nyamph. I’m not lady anything.’

‘Er – Nyamph, got it. So – what are you going to do now?’

The lady – no, Nyamph – held out her hands in front of her and felt the air like a blind person. Iris made a face and turned away, crossing her arms to show her displeasure. Art followed the movement of Nyamph’s hands and fingers in the air; she seemed to be feeling along invisible seams and edges without needing to use her eyes. Were worlds made of pieces and parts and sewn together to make a whole? Laurel would go crazy trying to figure out an answer to that question.

The right hand stopped and the index finger raised itself to a particular spot. Nyamph edged her other hand over to the right and placed the other index finger below the first. She curled both in opposite directions, and pulled –

With a sound very much like tearing cloth, the edge of the world came apart, letting in cool air and drops of rain. Iris had her hands at her mouth in disbelief, her eyes wide. Art stepped closer to the gap, gaping with delight and shock. Nyamph pulled further, now using all her fingers and arms. She glanced over her shoulder to smile briefly to the two, with a look that clearly said, ‘See, I told you I was telling the truth the whole time!’

‘No shit,’ Iris breathed. ‘Dear gods.’

‘Now do you believe me?’ Nyamph asked. ‘Do I need to tell you more?’

‘Well you could show us oneiric energy,’ Art said weakly.

‘That will come later, I promise you.’ Nyamph stepped back from the gap, but kept one hand on the edge to ensure that it remained open. ‘Come on, we need to get there quickly.’

‘Go where?’ Iris went right up to the gap and paused, fascination taking over her disbelief and doubt.

‘Save your father, of course.’

‘But I thought we were waiting for Mac – ‘

‘Mac was just giving the warning,’ Nyamph explained. ‘So that the man has time to get ready and plan his next step. Come on.’

A movement at the corner of his eye caught Art’s attention. He swiveled to see sunflower stalks being tossed into the air, cut neatly at their base. And rising with the stalks were the glams and a few fairies on the backs of glams who had changed their shape into birds.

Nyamph gasped and pushed Iris through the gap. Art scrambled after the girl, feeling the lady dive through the gap after him. A loud buzz had risen in the still air; the bees had been summoned to stop them from leaving. Several tiny voices yelled – those were the fairies, while the glams’ voices – magnified and angry – shouted after them to stop.

Nyamph reached past Art and yanked the edges together. A fairy that had managed to get his arm through yelled in pain before the cry was cut off as the edges sealed themselves. The arm fell to the ground, leaking blood.

‘Oh gods, oh gods,’ Iris groaned. ‘Can they get through?’

‘No.’ Nyamph quickly ran her fingers over the invisible edge and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘No, of course not.’

‘I don’t think so, lady.’

Iris gave a whimper as a man grabbed her hair and hauled her up.

‘Now turn around slowly and hold your hands up,’ said a different man’s voice.

Art did as he was told. The shorter man had pinned Iris’s arms behind her back, while the taller one had his knife out, its tip inches from the boy’s ear.

‘Here, lady, do as you’re told,’ the shorter one said.

Nyamph remained as she was, her face flushed. The knife tip moved deliberately from Art to the lady. The taller man jerked his head, indicating that she should stand up and not argue.

‘Please,’ Iris said softly, ‘before he does anything.’ The man holding her tugged at her hair.

‘I know what you’ve been offered,’ Nyamph said, her voice steady despite her ragged breathing, ‘and I know who offered it to you.’

‘So what?’ the shorter man sneered. ‘We can dispose of you quick enough, no questions asked. Do what we tell you, lady. Now get up.’

‘Stop – ‘

The knife swung to Art and came to a stop in the air a very short distance above his shoulder. Art fell silent immediately.

‘Where are they then?’ Nyamph continued speaking. ‘Where are the men who hired you?’

‘Not your business to know,’ the shorter man answered. ‘Look, we’re being nice as it is. Do you want to get hurt?’

‘Obviously I don’t.’ Nyamph nodded once and stood up. ‘Are you going to tell me or not?’

‘Not,’ the taller man said. The knife remained where it was near Art, but the expression on the man’s face indicated that he would harm her too if she dared say more.

‘Violence never works, you know.’ Nyamph shrugged. ‘They might not even pay you and your friend after all this is over.’

‘Think we’re stupid, lady?’ the shorter man said.

‘I didn’t say – ‘

The taller man moved very quickly; within seconds the knife was at Nyamph’s face and he had her on the ground, her arms pinned behind her back. Iris bit back another whimper and hid her face. The shorter man pulled at her hair and her head snapped back in pain.

‘Now gentlemen,’ someone else said, ‘that will not be necessary.’

Both the men released Iris and Nyamph and stepped back quietly. Art dared not turn his head, but an arm in a long gray sleeve reached across his line of vision and grasped Nyamph’s shoulder.

‘Dear dear,’ the man said, ‘you again?’

Nyamph did not answer, keeping her head down.

‘It was incredibly stupid to think that you could stop these two from coming to me, you know.’ The hand moved to her head and patted it with exaggerated gentleness, like an adult would to console a disappointed child. The gesture was meant to humiliate Nyamph, Art knew, but the lady remained motionless.

Iris rolled over to look at the man. Her eyes widened in horror.

‘You?’ she said, her voice cracking.

‘Ah yes, me.’ The man seemed amused, almost pleased. ‘Now turn around, Art, and say something to me.’

The boy did turn around, very slowly, dread and anticipation slowly replacing the fear.

It was Mr. Sept – a younger, handsomer and well-dressed Mr. Sept. The man smiled at him, the familiar eyes now colder than the warm and kindly expression Art was used to see in them.

‘Surprise.’ The man spread his arms out and laughed. ‘Fooled you all, didn’t I?’ He squeezed Art’s cheek affectionately. ‘Say something, boy.’

‘Erm,’ was all he could get out.

‘Good enough.’ The man nodded to the two other men. ‘Bring these two up to my office. I shall deal with the lady.’

‘But you can’t – ‘ Iris protested uselessly.

The lady shook her head and said nothing. Iris fell silent immediately.

The younger Mr. Sept paused and sighed. ‘You’re wrong, Iris,’ he said. ‘I already did.’

Nano 14

2007-11-25T15:35:00.000+08:00

‘Ah, it’s the Dream Lady.’ The Queen of the Little People smiled down from her seat on the balcony.

The lady nodded, curtsied hurriedly and went over to speak to one of the fairy guards. The fairy shook her head and held up the spear in warning. The lady fell back and stepped back to speak to the Queen.

‘And what do you want this time?’ the Queen asked coldly, signaling her handmaidens to leave the balcony.

‘A request,’ the lady answered, frowning. ‘I thought we had a deal.’

‘But not a partnership,’ the Queen retorted tartly, standing up and coming over to the edge for a closer look at the lady below. ‘That was part of the deal, Lady. We are not obligated to grant the requests of the other.’

‘I know.’ The lady sighed. ‘But surely you would not think of putting the lives of your fairies in danger?’

‘I’ve known you since you came into memory, Nyamph,’ the Queen said. ‘I know what you are capable of. And I would thank you to keep out of my affairs, as they do not concern you in the least.’

‘You do remember that if it had not been for my intervention, your disagreement with Oberon would never have been resolved?’ Lady Nyamph folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

‘A long time ago, and I’ve repaid that.’ The Queen waved dismissively. ‘What happened then has no relation to the arrangements we have now.’

‘But, I believe,’ Lady Nyamph said carefully, with just a hint of sarcasm, ‘your history is somewhat cyclical. Past events have a tendency to repeat themselves, do they not?’

‘As do the history of humans,’ the Queen countered without pausing for thought. Her face remained impassive and expressionless. ‘What you ask of me now, Nyamph, would happen again, and I do not think that it would be wise for me to help, now or later.’

‘Then explain why the glams are interfering in this,’ Nyamph said. ‘I’ve been followed since I left the girl. Why is that?’

‘They did offer to help,’ the Queen said. ‘You had a right to ask then, and they agreed to it. I have gathered that they did not manage to perform the task you set them, but that does not change the deal. You could have told the girl yourself when you met her.’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’ Lady Nyamph glanced over her shoulder and scowled. ‘I want to know why they were avoiding me, Titania. They intended to lead the girl away from me, and had another person not interfered unknowingly, I would not have met the girl. However – because of the glams’ distraction, one of your fairies also met her end there.’

‘I know.’ The Queen sat back down and began fanning herself in a bored way. ‘I have received news of that. However, I am also interested to know why she stayed with the boy and made a bargain with the boy’s guardian. Perhaps you would care to explain that?’

‘I don’t know why she stayed with him. But I do know that she entered the deal when she received a signal for help from the glams. They were threatened then by two men, who had kidnapped the girl – ‘

‘Men? I haven’t heard of any men,’ the Queen interrupted. ‘Are you attempting to cheat me, Lady?’

‘Haven’t the glams told you then?’ Lady Nyamph said defensively. ‘They’re acting most suspiciously, Titania. I’m worried about that.’

‘Do not try to discredit my orders, lady,’ the Queen snapped. ‘I know what you imply by your words. The glams are, at best, a group who will act in their own interests, that is true, but I assure you that I have sufficient trust and confidence in their loyalty towards me.’

‘Then you’ve lost.’ Lady Nyamph curtsied and turned her back on the Queen. The Queen stood up, enraged.

‘Stop her!’ The Queen threw her fan at the lady’s retreating back. The fan transformed into a bird in mid-flight and flew straight towards the lady’s head.

Lady Nyamph shrugged and flicked a hand. The bird turned into paper and crumpled silently to the ground. The guard fairy turned to the Queen in anticipation of an order. None came, as the Queen had fallen silent.

‘I suggest you have someone check on the glams, Titania,’ Lady Nyamph said as she left through the unguarded doors, ‘before it’s too late.’

Art stared in amazement as the cat continued talking. Iris had the ginger horror on her knees and was even now stroking it as she questioned it. The cat stretched lazily now and then, extending pointy claws and giving sly looks with its clear green eyes in Art’s direction. Jonas was awake by now, petting the cat at intervals but not saying much. Mr. Sept snored peacefully beside the fire.

‘Then I came here,’ the cat said, ‘and tracked you down. It was easy.’

‘I see,’ Iris said, scratching the cat’s ears. The cat purred in satisfaction and flicked its orange-and-white striped tail in Jonas’s face.

‘But why do you want to find us?’ Art asked, in a somewhat accusatory tone. The cat opened its eyes and surveyed him with amusement.

‘Haven’t you been listening, boy?’ There was something smug in its voice. ‘I just said that I heard the glams talking about you and this very nice girl here, and decided to see what the fuss was about.’

‘Suspicious, I’d say.’ Art tugged the cat’s tail lightly. ‘Look, you’re a talking cat, and I’ve never heard of one before. Who’s to say that you’re not working with the glams?’

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Iris said dreamily. ‘The glams saved us, and we didn’t even thank them. Maybe they sent this cat here to keep a watch on us.’

‘They didn’t.’ The cat stood up and leapt lightly onto Art’s blanket. ‘I said that I overheard them talking about you and Iris. I tried asking round who were you two, and found out enough to follow you here.’

‘And what were they saying about us?’ Art asked.

‘Lots,’ the cat replied vaguely. It settled down on the blanket and yawned. ‘I’m tired. Ask the girl what I said.’

‘Now look here, you might be someone spying on us!’ Art knelt down beside the cat and pulled at the blanket. Claws shot out of two paws and pulled back the blanket.

‘Art, stop it,’ Iris spoke up. ‘Don’t bother him.’

‘I want to know why it can talk.’ Green eyes narrowed as the cat arched its back and settled into a more comfortable position. Art waited till the cat seemed to have dozed off before adding, ‘And why it’s taking an interest in us.’

‘Reward, see?’ the cat replied without opening its eyes. ‘The glams were talking about some reward that people were offering. And then they mentioned two men – seemed to have got rid of them, I guess – but they did say that the men were out and about again, and it was getting dangerous.’

‘Oh-kay.’ Iris tucked her hair behind her ears and turned to look dreamily at Art. ‘What do you think of that? A reward.’

‘Who’s offering the reward?’

‘The glams didn’t say.’ The cat flicked an ear and purred softly. ‘All I heard was they. But I think they want you and the girl soon. Seems urgent.’

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ Iris said, twisting a strand of hair round and round.

‘You’re supposed to say “more curious”, not “curiouser,’ Art replied; annoyance and fear were getting the better of him. Iris appeared not to have heard him, but he felt slightly guilty all the same. They had a sort of truce after all.

‘I don’t know, it just sounded like something I read before.’ Iris stopped fiddling with her hair and frowned. ‘But I don’t even read much anyway, there’s no time. And I know “curiouser” isn’t really a word…why?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Art reassured her, turning back to the cat. ‘Do you have any idea who they might be? Or why the men and glams are after us? And what was the reward?’

‘And why, I might add, do you want to track us for a reward if you did not know who were the ones offering it?’ Mr. Sept said abruptly from behind Art.

The cat turned its glassy green gaze onto the man. Art stood up and went over to sit beside Iris, wondering uneasily about how much Mr. Sept had heard when he had woken up without them noticing. The cat flicked its tail back and forth, almost as though the action helped it to think carefully about what to say next.

‘Someone told me to find the girl,’ the cat answered calmly. ‘He trusted me to bring her back to him without anyone’s knowledge. I managed to track her all the way to the circus, but then she disappeared, obviously. I followed the signs and clues the glams left on the way, and later the fairies informed me that she was heading here. So here I am.’

‘And who was it?’ Mr. Sept asked quietly.

‘A man. Said the girl was his daughter. He knew who I was, said that we had a shared history together, but I can’t remember anything about that.’ The cat blinked. Art wondered if the blink had been a substitute for a shrug. It felt like one.

‘And how did you come by your intelligence and ability to speak, if I may ask?’

‘Dunno.’ The cat blinked again rapidly. ‘I just woke up and I had it. If I had memories before, they weren’t much, because like the guy said, I didn’t have intelligent thought then. He might be lying, I don’t know, but the explanation seems possible.’

‘But realistically, cats are not supposed to talk,’ Art interjected. ‘So are you a – a mutant or something?’

The cat fixed its shrewd gaze on him and blinked. ‘Have you heard of oneiric energy, boy?’

‘Yes – but that would mean that it’s – it’s something like magic – ‘

‘What the theorists forgot to add,’ the cat continued, ‘was the fact that not all worlds may be or are usually identical. They may resemble each other so closely as to fool the casual observer that the worlds are exactly alike, but there are always differences, dissimilarities, and little details unique to each world. Haven’t you heard that?’

‘No.’ Art swallowed a few times; his mouth was unusually dry. A cat had just told him what Laurel would have, but cats couldn’t think; they were only animals, weren’t they?

‘In this world, then, it seems that cats have the ability to think and speak,’ the cat finished smugly. ‘Deal with it, boy.’

‘What are these worlds you said?’ Mr. Sept got off the chair and settled on the floor, crossing his long legs easily despite his age.

‘Dunno.’ The cat blinked twice. ‘The man told me about them, but I don’t really know what they are. He said that these worlds are highly unstable, but they’re usually under the control of…some people. He started babbling then; I had no idea what he was saying. Then the next day he told me leave very urgently. Showed me a picture of this girl here and said that I had to bring her back to him before it was too late.’ The eyes looked reproachfully at Mr. Sept. ‘I’ve told you everything, you know.’

‘But who is this man?’ Mr. Sept demanded impatiently, waking Jonas beside him. The boy sat up and stared blearily round the room.

‘Some guy, in the place.’ The cat yawned, evidently bored with all the questioning. ‘I didn’t know much then, but he was good to me, fed me and all that. He taught me words and things, told me about his past and what he said was my past. I thought he was losing his mind after a while.’

‘And why was he in that place?’ Iris said, puzzled and excited. ‘Why? And why did he keep saying that he was my father?’

‘He told me that he was taken there when his world started disappearing bit by bit,’ the cat explained unhelpfully. ‘I don’t know what he meant, but at any rate, he said that his daughter was taken before him and now he wants to find her and put things right.’

‘But I can’t have been from another world!’ Iris burst out laughing, incredulity and relied mixed with her mirth. ‘I’ve always been here! My father’s Harry Langdon and I’ve always been in a circus. How could I have two fathers, and especially one who claims to have come to another world?’ She smiled broadly to Art and Mr. Sept, clearly thinking that they had the same opinions as she did.

‘However,’ Mr. Sept said gently, ‘how did the man obtain a picture of Iris?’

‘Who?’ the cat said, his tone bewildered.

‘The girl, Iris. How did he get a picture of her?’

‘Said he always had it with him,’ the cat replied. ‘He said he loved her, had promised to protect her, blah blah blah, and felt it was his utmost responsibility as a father to ensure that no harm would come to her, and on and on until I got quite sick from listening, to tell you the truth.’

‘How odd.’ Iris scratched her nose and sighed. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

Someone stepped into the room. Every head turned instinctively to look at the dark doorway. The lady shook her head, her head bowed as though in defeat.

‘I’m sorry,’ Nyamph said, ‘for what I must do now.’

Nano 13

2007-11-23T01:28:00.000+08:00

It took three more days to reach Elyria, with very brief stops in towns and villages along the way. The road was busier as they neared the city, and towns became larger and more crowded, with frequent traffic between them and the city. It was all new to Art, but Mr. Sept and the other two were rather bored by the evening of the first day.

‘We travel to Elyria three times a year,’ Iris said, yawning. It was night, but Mr. Sept had insisted that they would only stop when they reached Elyria and found a quiet place to rest for the night.

‘Yeah,’ Jonas piped up, ‘and the performances here get a very big audience. Usually we earn the most here.’

‘It’s tiring,’ Iris continued, sighing happily, ‘but you get to see so many people. And the clothes and shops and everything.’

‘I’ve never been here,’ Art said. He had been subdued for the most part of the journey, and the others had rather left him alone with his thoughts. He didn’t mind that – he thought it was considerate of them – but Iris frequently got on his nerves.

‘Funny,’ Iris remarked innocently. ‘I thought everyone came here, except those from…the rural areas.’

Art rounded on her, seething with pent-up irritation over the days. ‘Yeah, so what’s wrong with that? Think you’re queen or something, huh, getting to travel everywhere with the circus – ‘

‘What do you mean by that?’ Iris shrieked in retaliation.

‘You’ve been getting on my nerves for days! Days and days and days, you – ‘

‘Say it!’ Iris shrieked even louder over Art’s words. ‘Say it!’

‘Stop it.’ Mr. Sept stepped between them and pushed at both of their shoulders. ‘Listen. You’re behaving like kids. Stop it!’

‘Sorry,’ Art muttered.

‘And you too, young lady,’ Mr. Sept said, eyeing her shrewdly, ‘learn to control what you say.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘Er – Mr. Sept?’ Jonas said hesitantly, raising a hand.

‘Yes, Jonas?’

‘There’s someone staring at us. I think he wants us to go over to him.’

Mr. Sept glanced over his shoulder at the man leaning against the hedge beside the road. ‘Don’t bother him,’ he murmured.

‘Mr. Sept?’

‘Come on.’ Mr. Sept walked off, heading towards the city. The gateposts could now be seen, a mere fifteen minutes’ walk ahead.

Jonas shrugged and followed him. Iris glared at Art, who stubbornly refused to look at her. She flounced off angrily. Art followed behind, subdued and gloomy again.

And then they were in the city – that was the main road, made of worn bricks of a curious yellow color – they were passing shops and large mansions now, with cars and horses jostling with each other in the streets, together with the large number of people strolling along the pavements and going in and out of the shops. There seemed to be lampposts and lights everywhere, and men and ladies were going past with their own lamps too, lamps with green, blue and orange flames. Art kept completely silent, staring wide-eyed at the sights. Iris had been temporarily shut up by the extreme noise coming from all sides, and even Jonas had to shout into her ear to make his words heard. Mr. Sept waved over his shoulder to them, leading them along quieter alleys and smaller streets.

‘You said you’ve never been here before,’ Art remarked quietly to the man.

‘Did I?’ Mr. Sept said genially. ‘I must have forgotten I said that. One can never be too careful of what one says on the road, you know. This way, come on, hurry up.’

Art ducked as Mr. Sept led them beneath an archway overhung with dead leaves and vines. They were in a courtyard now, still and silent compared to the main part of the city they had just come from. There was a pool in the middle of the courtyard, trickling weakly from some unknown source. The calm surface reflected the lights from the houses around the yard. Mr. Sept pointed across to the house with most of its windows lighted up.

‘That’s the place,’ he said. ‘It’s my friend’s place. Don’t think he’d mind me putting up for the night.’

A young girl opened the door to their knock. She stared at them in surprise and gaped wordlessly. Jonas grinned and waved hesitantly.

‘Is your father home?’ Mr. Sept asked. ‘Or your mother perhaps?’

‘He’s not home,’ the girl replied after a pause. ‘But my mother is. Who are you?’

‘Mr. Sept and his wards,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘I hope it won’t be too much trouble for us to put up here for the night? We just arrived in the city tonight…and there are some urgent matters we have to deal with immediately.’

‘I’ll be right back.’ The girl shut the door and they watched as the light dimmed slightly, as though she had taken a lamp with her.

The door opened again within a minute. This time the girl was accompanied by a middle-aged lady with a toddler on her hip. The lady raised her eyebrows coolly.

‘And so you’re Mr. Sept?’ she said, in a not too friendly manner. ‘I see. My husband did not receive any news that you were stopping by soon.’

‘Yes, I am, Mrs. Lee. I do apologize for the inconvenience.’ Mr. Sept smiled reassuringly. ‘I did not expect to reach here so soon, but I had to change my plans due to unavoidable circumstances. And as you can see, I have my three young charges here with me – I’m taking them with me to my shop tomorrow, but we need a place to stay for the night.’

‘I suppose you can stay for one night,’ the lady said grudgingly. ‘My Liz can share her bed with the girl, I suppose.’

Iris nodded and tried to smile gratefully. Art knew she didn’t like the look of Liz, from the expression he could discern in the dim light. He bent his head and smirked.

Mrs. Lee handed the toddler over to Liz and busied herself in the kitchen preparing a small dinner for the four of them. Iris wandered into the kitchen to help but was shooed out again in a very short while.

‘Said I was useless in the kitchen,’ Iris said humorlessly. ‘And why would I be any use there anyway? I’ve never cooked. I was just trying to help.’

‘I’m sure she just wants to get dinner ready as soon as possible,’ Jonas said soothingly.

‘I’m sure it was because she was a bloody nuisance in there.’ Art opened his eyes very wide and smiled innocently.

‘Yes yes, very funny, har har.’ Iris tossed her hair over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose.

‘By the way, Iris,’ Mr. Sept said, ‘there’s something I have to ask you. About your hair – is it possible to get it cut tonight?’

There was a horrified silence. Jonas gulped, very quietly, and buried his face in his hands. Iris’s mouth hung open for a few long seconds before she remembered to shut it.

‘Cut it?’

‘Yes, to hide you,’ Mr. Sept continued as though she had agreed. ‘I’m still worried about those two men who kidnapped you. Who knows but they’re still after you? And I don’t want any harm coming to Art either.’

‘But – but – not my hair!’

‘It will be the best way to disguise you,’ Mr. Sept said firmly. ‘I’m sorry Iris, but things have taken a serious turn. What with the fairy’s death and the glams’ involvement, I’m getting very worried about what might happen next. And we don’t know where the lady went, or whether she would be coming back to us.’

Mrs. Lee entered the room just then, bearing a large hot pot of soup and bread. Art sprang up and followed her into the kitchen, emerging with a stack of bowls and spoons. Iris stuck her tongue out at him to relieve her shock.

‘It’s not much,’ Mrs. Lee said, ‘but I hope you’ll be happy with it.’

‘I’m sure we will,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘Thank you.’

‘I have to put the baby to bed,’ she said, drifting out of the room.

‘You absolutely cannot cut my hair!’ Iris whispered angrily, glancing at the doorway where Mrs. Lee had gone through.

‘It’s a necessary step, I’m afraid,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘I can’t risk putting your life and the two boys’ in danger!’

‘I can plait my hair or something! Wear a hat! Bonnet! Do anything but cutting it off!’

‘But it’d still be obvious.’ Art blew carefully on his soup and sighed. ‘All that hair, it must be so hard to hide it.’

Jonas bit back a snigger and snorted ungracefully into his soup. Art thumped his back helpfully.

‘But – but – but –‘ Iris spluttered and dropped her spoon. It landed on the floor with a muffled clunk.

‘It’ll grow back in time,’ Art said, patting her hand sympathetically. ‘I’m sure all the energy you get from insulting people will help it grow.’

‘Art,’ Mr. Sept cut in sharply, ‘enough of that. I’m really sorry, Iris, but I think it’s for the best.’

‘Is there anything you would need?’ the girl asked suddenly. They turned, not realizing that she had been hidden in the doorway for some time.

‘Ah yes,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘Do you have a pair of scissors? And perhaps some skill with cutting hair?’

‘I – I think so,’ Liz said, puzzled and surprised. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Cut her hair.’ Art nodded towards Iris and bent his head over his soup to hide his widening grin. ‘Dear dear.’

It was much later, about midnight at the very least, when Iris rolled over and sniffed into her sleeve. Art glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and pretended to shift in his sleep so he didn’t have to look at her crying. Beside him, Jonas was already asleep, mumbling incoherently in his dreams. Mr. Sept had dozed off beside the fire in the only armchair in the room.

When Iris continued sniffing for the next fifteen minutes, Art sat up and nudged her gently on the shoulder. She buried her head in her arms, the head with the shorn hair looking astonishingly pathetic in the firelight.

‘Hey.’ He nudged her again. ‘Sorry for what I said earlier.’

‘Whatever,’ she sniffed. ‘I don’t give a damn.’

‘Okay then.’ He lay back down and pulled the blanket over his head. ‘I was trying to be nice.’

‘Right.’ She sat up and tugged at his blanket. ‘Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry for being so sarcastic. It hasn’t been a good time for me.’

Art said up and stretched. ‘Me neither. I’m starting to wonder about Mr. Sept. And that fairy…ah well.’

‘And I still don’t know why those men wanted me or Jonas.’ She sighed and ran a hand through her hair ruefully. ‘Damn. Look at my hair. I’ve never had short hair in my life.’

‘Must be annoying to have all that weight on your head though,’ he joked. She rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling.

‘It’s part of the circus tradition,’ she explained. ‘Girls are expected to have long hair…not a must, but we just do. There’s this girl my age with really gorgeous red hair.’ She sighed. ‘She’d kill to see me look like this.’

‘I think you look fine.’ He shrugged and tilted his head to look at her hair critically. ‘Seriously, Liz did a good job.’

‘Yeah yeah.’ She waved a hand and giggled. ‘It’d grow back anyway. So. Tell me about yourself.’

‘Not much.’ Art drew his knees up to his chin and clasped his hands around his ankles. ‘Funny how I came here…woke up in someone’s garden and was carried home by some farmer. Mr. Lefroy and his family were really nice to me, and his daughter Laurel’s one of my best friends now. Not that I have many friends…but she’s been close to me and all that. Then Mr. Sept came and said that he wanted me to be his assistant in his book-trading business. Guess I left to seek my fortune, like young men are wont to do.’ He chuckled and shook his head, almost in disbelief.

‘What happened before you woke up in someone’s garden?’ Iris frowned, curious. ‘How did you get there?’

‘I don’t know.’ Art made a face. ‘It’s funny…but…I don’t know. I had no memory at all of whom I was before that; I couldn’t even remember if I had a name!’

‘Ah, I see.’ Iris held her hands up to the fire and watched the flames through the gaps. ‘So why did you choose Art?’

‘Eh?’

‘How come your name is Art then? Did the Lefroys give it to you or what?’

‘It’s…er…short for…Arte – Arthur. It’s a respectable name.’ Art hoped fervently that she wouldn’t notice how pink his ears were by now.

‘Better than Artemis,’ Iris said absently.

‘Yeah, much better,’ he agreed, much too heartily.

Iris shook her head and let loose a loud laugh. Jonas snuffled in his sleep and turned over. Art watched apprehensively as Mr. Sept grunted once and settled deeper into sleep.

‘Okay okay, it was Artemis at first.’ Art rubbed his cheeks and groaned. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’

‘Fine.’ Iris pointed upwards at some object on the mantelpiece. Art followed her gaze curiously. It was a plaque, painted prettily with flowers and birds. It reminded him of the flowered plaque on the Lefroys’ bathroom door. He stood up and handed it down to Iris.

‘”When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade”,’ Iris read out solemnly. She turned a solemn face to Art and pulled her lips down with her fingers. ‘Stupid saying.’

‘No it isn’t,’ he protested, taking the plaque from her. It really did look a lot like the Lefroys’. Maybe the same person had made it.

‘It doesn’t make sense, you know.’ The girl tutted and clicked her tongue. ‘I mean, how the hell are you supposed to make lemonade with just a lemon? Don’t you need water, and something to stir it in, plus something to stir it with, and don’t you need to include sugar too, or else it’d be too sour?’

‘You can be very literal, can you,’ Art said, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

‘Yep, of course I can. When you’ve lived as long as I have in the circus, you tend to be. It’s not that romantic, you know, being in the circus. It’s boring. Very. Oh yeah, and you know that other saying: “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get”?’

‘Er…yeah – what about it?’

‘They should have added: “Mind the nuts”. Not nuts as in…real nuts, but the figurative nuts, you know, crazy people. I’ve noticed that chocolate wrappers tend to have “May contain traces of nut” on them, especially those very sweet ones from factories.’ Iris shuddered. ‘I hate those kinds, the factory ones. My father used to get real chocolates from his clients, those rich people who would invite us to their functions to perform, and the kids would be rewarded with chocolates too.’ She sighed and added dreamily, ‘Those were the days. Chocolate was bittersweet, and creamy, and some had fillings…’

‘You were saying about the nuts,’ Art prompted. ‘Crazy people. It’s an interesting thought.’

‘Well yeah, crazy people,’ Iris said, waving a hand dramatically to emphasize her point. ‘Those nutters who are out to get you, like those two men. We should be looking out for them, mind you, and not worry all the time about the unexpected aspects of life. Mind the nuts, see?’

‘Right.’ Art shook himself to loosen the tension in his feet. It felt like old times back in the Lefroys’ home, where Laurel would make him listen to her wild mind-boggling scientific theories after dinner every evening. Iris was very much different than Laurel – Laurel would never have denounced any saying as nonsensical or “stupid”; to her, every fact had to be investigated and verified before one could finally pronounce it as “rubbish” – but Iris was fun in her own way. She was sarcastic, definitely, and she did have a pretty odd sense of humor. Besides, she was being nice to him now, and that was an improvement over the past few days –

‘Art. Psssst.’

Art shook himself again and sighed sleepily. He must be drifting off. Iris had definitely not said ‘Psst’, because she was now bent over the plaque, murmuring to herself as she traced the delicate flowers and artwork.

‘Oi, Art. Pssssst!’

There was the voice again. Someone tapped softly against the glass of the nearest window. Iris’s head snapped up, alert and wary. Art turned sleepily to look.

‘Hey boy, finally, let me in!’

Art’s scream was abruptly cut off when Iris clamped a hand over his mouth.

‘Hush,’ she hissed into his ear. ‘I’ll let him in. Don’t wake the others.’

Nano 12

2007-11-23T01:27:00.000+08:00

It felt just like the first time he woke up. Art kept his eyes shut and raised a hand to touch the side of his head. There was a major bruise there, protruding slightly. Whoever who had hit him would have hell to pay later.

‘He’s awake!’ someone whispered noisily. ‘Mr. Sept!’

‘Is he okay?’ a new voice said. Art thought it was a girl. It wasn’t the lady, but a girl.

‘Here, are you all right, boy?’ Mr. Sept’s dry hands touched the bruise and pushed Art’s eyelids open.

The boy blinked frantically for a few moments. Then he was pulled upright by Mr. Sept, who sat back and looked at him grimly.

‘Nasty hit,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘Can you see me?’

Art nodded, once, twice, and stopped. There was a headache developing, as expected.

‘I think I might have hit you,’ the girl said blandly. She shrugged as though she wasn’t to blame for it. ‘One minute we were running down a slope somewhere, the next minute, we were here and banging into trees. I wonder what happened.’

‘And the glams disappeared,’ the boy beside her spoke up. ‘That’s the weird part, I thought. They didn’t want to come here because of…her.’

‘Who’s her?’ Art winced and shut his mouth quickly.

‘The Dream Lady,’ the boy replied in hushed tones. ‘The glams said they didn’t want to meet her, but Mr. Sept reckons that she’s just left somewhere. He said that she was looking for me and Iris here, but then something brought us to her. And then the glams left.’

‘You mean the something that sucked all the light out everywhere and hit me?’ Art groaned and leaned against Mr. Sept’s shoulder.

‘Yeah, that,’ Iris said. ‘That’s what’s weird.’

‘And where is she? The lady?’ Art felt Mr. Sept’s shoulder tensed, but the man smiled.

‘I believe she is looking for the cause of the disturbance,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, she’ll be back soon.’

‘But she’s evil!’ the boy said, shocked. ‘Why do you want her back?’

‘And who said she was evil, I’d like to know?’ Mr. Sept snapped. ‘Nobody said she was evil, boy!’

‘Er.’ The boy laughed nervously. ‘Well, you see, since the glams didn’t want to meet her, and she just left us – ‘

‘That doesn’t mean she’s evil, Jonas,’ the girl said bossily, rolling her eyes. ‘The glams are odd themselves; we don’t know much about them. And besides, they never delivered the message they were supposed to. And, and…’

‘Yes, young lady?’ Mr. Sept prompted.

‘I met a lady a few days ago,’ Iris continued, turning pink, ‘in my room. She told me that someone was coming to fetch me, take me away from the circus, I think. I thought it was the glam at first, but now that I think about it…it could have been the glam, or the two men, or that lady or some other person.’

‘What two men?’

‘They kidnapped us,’ Jonas spoke up. ‘One named Skinny and the other was Jamie. Not sure where they were taking us, but the Skinny guy was violent. The glams saved us, and they were about to take us back to the circus, and then we came here.’

‘Odder and odder,’ Mr. Sept mused.

‘Mr. Sept?’

‘Yes, Art?’

‘Where’s the fairy?’

There was an awkward silence, during which Mr. Sept stared at nothing thoughtfully, Iris coughed several times and Jonas looked stricken.

‘She’s dead,’ Mr. Sept said gently. ‘You fell on her when you were hit. Now Art,’ he added, grasping the boy’s shoulder, ‘it wasn’t your fault.’

‘I know it wasn’t,’ Art said, shrugging off the man’s hand angrily, ‘but I want to kill the person who hit me in the first place.’

‘We don’t know whether it was a person,’ Iris said.

Art glared at her. She glared back. ‘Shut up,’ he said.

‘Suit yourself.’ She got up and stormed away.

‘Where is she then, Mr. Sept?’

‘Over there, Art.’ Mr. Sept pointed to the clearing where the lady had been earlier. ‘I did whatever I could for her…all the fairy funeral rites and everything. If it’s any…I guess it was partly my fault for lighting the fuse. I brought the boy and girl over here without meaning to.’ Mr. Sept sighed heavily and stood up. ‘This is a mess, isn’t it?’

‘You know what,’ Art said gloomily, ‘I bloody hate this. And I blame you for it.’

‘Good.’ Mr. Sept walked away. Art heard the sound of someone striking matches and presently the smell of leaves and paper burning.

‘Are you okay?’ Jonas asked, concern making his fearful face all odd. ‘I can bring you some water if you like.’

‘Go away.’ Art lay back down and turned his back on the boy. ‘Eff off. Go somewhere. Don’t come back. Get killed or something!’

‘Er…okay.’ The boy shuffled off to join his friend.

‘Art,’ Mr. Sept said a while later, ‘wake up. We have to move.’

‘Why?’

‘Come on, don’t sulk. Here’s some food. Eat, and then we have to go. Iris seems to have got the idea that it was the glams who caused the darkness and everything.’

‘What?’ Art sat up, forgetting his anger in his amazement. ‘But why would they do that?’

‘To cause a distraction, since they were keen to avoid the lady.’ Mr. Sept handed him bread and some cheese. ‘Look, I’m not saying that the glams did it, but we don’t know for sure. The kids don’t trust the lady; we don’t trust the glams. Jonas said that half the time they weren’t sure of the glams’ plans and they only had some vague idea that the glams were leading them to someone for a task or something. It’s all fishy business, very hush-hush…which makes it all the more intriguing, I admit. But dangerous. Listen carefully, Art. Whoever did that darkness is capable of more than that, much more. I want you to promise me that if anyone were to offer you something else, something to lure you away, don’t accept it and don’t trust it. The fairy you met had her heart in the right place, but I can’t guarantee you that the others will.’

Art chewed on dry bread and cheese and said nothing. Mr. Sept shook his shoulder urgently.

‘Did you hear me, Art?’

‘I did,’ Art replied sullenly. ‘I understand. But do we have to take those two along?’

‘Yes, Art. We can’t leave them here. I don’t know what happened to the lady, but whatever she intends to do, I’d be glad if we got away from her quickly. She seems to be attracting trouble, haven’t you noticed?’

‘I don’t know.’ Art stuffed more bread into his mouth, more out of reluctance to follow Mr. Sept than because he was hungry.

‘Art. Come on, get up. Let’s go.’

The four people left the clearing and headed out of the woods half an hour later. Eyes watched them go, following the light of Mr. Sept’s lamp as the group made their way slowly through the trees.

‘The girl’s thinking,’ one voice said.

‘I know,’ said another.

‘She’s guessing too much,’ said a third.

‘Why did we save them then?’ said the first.

‘Their orders, remember?’ said the third.

‘Those men were acting on their orders too, and we hit them,’ the second said.

‘We had too,’ said the first gleefully. ‘They were in the way.’

‘Who’s going to tell them eh?’ said the second.

‘Last man standing,’ said the third matter-of-factly.

There was a soft swoosh as an owl drifted down to the bush and landed among the leaves.

‘So, any news?’

‘Yep, lady’s heading west by now and the group’s going east. I’m guessing that the old man intends to take the kids to Elyria. She, on the other hand, is off to speak to the Queen,’ a new voice replied.

There was a pause, during which the leaves of the bush shook slightly.

‘Are you sure about that?’ said the first voice.

‘Can’t be wrong, can I? The Queen doesn’t like her, it’s true, but you have to remember what she is…’ The voice dropped into a conspiratorial mumble.

And then a while more, someone said, as cheerfully as possible, ‘Well that’s good then. At least we know what to do next.’

‘The man will be the first, of course.’

‘Yes!’

There were a few rustles and cracks, and a short while later, several mice scurried out from under the bush and hurried into the darkness.

Nano 11

2007-11-20T00:19:00.000+08:00

They were in a wood. Trees reared overhead, dropping leaves onto their heads from time to time. The ground underfoot was bare, no grass, no low-lying bushes or flowers, just the bare earth with the occasional tree root rising out of the darkness to trip unwary visitors. The fairy perched on Art’s shoulder and held up a ball of light between her cupped hands.

‘I believe you said that they would be here, my lady?’ Mr. Sept gestured into the empty rustling gloom between the trees, indicating that there were obviously no other people but them here. There was a hint of a satisfied smirk on his face, which he was careful to show to Art.

‘I did,’ the lady replied, tossing her head lightly. She seemed to be agitated about something, and though she took pains to hide it, the agitation and anxiety rose off her like a palpable cloud. Art could feel the crackle and irritation from her, even though he wasn’t paying much attention to what she said or did.

‘Then when are they, my lady?’ The last two words were subtly emphasized, Art knew; Mr. Sept was big on subtlety but he was the kind of person who wanted you to know that he was being subtle. It was pretty condescending, Art thought, but then Mr. Sept had survived till now on his travels alone. Maybe people out there didn’t get subtlety. Or thinly-veiled, subtly-hinted at sarcasm.

‘They’re coming.’ The lady tightened her lips and strode off into the darkness, unafraid of the mysterious rustles and sounds of the wood at night.

Art jumped when he felt something swooped past him. The fairy grabbed his collar before she fell off.

‘That was just a bird!’ she complained. The ball of light had been accidentally extinguished when she nearly lost her balance.

‘I thought it was a bat,’ Art said nervously. ‘Or something.’

‘Quiet,’ the fairy said. She pointed to the lady, who had stopped a little way in front, in a clearing they had not noticed before.

‘Can you get a message to the glams, fairy?’ the lady asked. She ran a hand through her hair, messing up the tangled strands into a worse state than before. ‘I can sense something coming up very quickly.’

‘Maybe it’s just a bird – ‘ Mr. Sept began sardonically. He never finished that sentence.

Something certainly came towards them very quickly, as though it was on wings. Art was not too sure that it had wings, when he later recalled the events of that night. He remembered the blow on his head very clearly though, and several things happened vaguely after that, one following after the other in perfect sequence like a ball bouncing from shelf to shelf in a pinball machine. Perhaps there had been a sharp pain along his scalp when the fairy desperately grabbed and pulled at his hair when she was knocked off his shoulder. He remembered stumbling backwards blindly, because all light seemed to have been obscured by something huge, even the thin moonlight of the moon on the way to full – gibbous, as Laurel would have put it – was blocked by that something. He tripped over a tree root, perhaps, or over his own feet. Then he was down and on his back, staring upwards into black nothingness. He remembered wondering incredulously about the analogy to the pinball machine, thinking desperately that this wasn’t the right time for this particular thought, partly because he didn’t know anything about pinball machines, and mostly because he might meet his end with his last uninspiring thoughts of pinball machines he didn’t know anything about.

And then there was a whoomph as though someone had lit a fuse and it had burst into gigantic flames within moments. Art felt the second blow on his head – he wasn’t too sure whether it was someone falling on his head or someone hitting him accidentally – and then blackout.

‘You stupid man,’ the lady said, very quietly.

‘I did what I had to do,’ Mr. Sept said harshly, rising to his feet. His coat was hanging halfway off his shoulder, grimy and tattered, but he pulled it back on as though the stains and tears had no effect on the coat’s rather pathetic appearance.

‘You brought them here.’ The lady walked over to the fallen boy and raised his head. She checked his pulse and eyes. ‘He’s fine, at least.’

‘I made sure he’d be,’ Mr. Sept said. He kicked at the burnt out fuse and swore under his breath.

‘But the fairy’s dead,’ the lady said, still in the same quiet tone of voice. She picked up the limp form of the fairy in both hands, her expression almost reverential. ‘Do you know what you have done?’

‘Queen’s Demand, I know.’ Mr. Sept sagged slightly in his coat. ‘I know.’

‘But you fetched the girl here,’ the lady continued, ‘with her friend. Well done, Mr. Sept.’

‘What?’

The lady motioned him over. Mr. Sept stared in surprise and suspicion at the two prone bodies lying beside Art.

‘Dead, are they?’ he asked shortly.

‘Alive. But they should have been accompanied by the glams who saved them.’ The lady sighed and smoothed the hair off the girl’s face. ‘You scared them off when you blew that fuse. And the fairy fell under Art when he tripped. The boy is not to be blamed.’

‘But what was – was that thing?’ Mr. Sept demanded. ‘What happened to the light and everything? I lit the fuse – first thing I could think of – and it went off. What was that eh?’

‘Something’s after us.’ The lady sighed again. ‘It is always so in stories. Something is always after someone, and usually another someone will get hurt while the something chases someone until they reach a place or a stage where the big showdown is necessary to end the story and thus produce more unlikely heroes and stories in the manner of stories everywhere.’ The lady stood up and walked back into the clearing. ‘I wish I knew where this story is going though. I’m in it too…but I can’t honestly say that I joined the party willingly. Or even knowingly, if you get what I mean.’

‘I think so.’ Mr. Sept shrugged and checked the pulse on Art’s wrist. ‘He’s doing fine.’

‘What would you do, Mr. Sept?’ the lady said. She sounded forlorn and slightly helpless. The man smirked – this time there was nothing subtle about it – and followed her into the clearing.

‘What anyone would do,’ he answered. ‘What I can.’

‘But what are we supposed to do?’

‘Look at it this way,’ Mr. Sept said, resorting to logic, ‘if someone needs help, I would help as much as I can. Sometimes it’s not whether I’m supposed to do it, but I’m doing it because I want to, because I think it’s my responsibility. And if there’s no plan to begin with, so be it. If we don’t know what we’re going to do next, we’ll find out in time. If we don’t even know what we’re up against, we’ll learn soon enough.’

‘Very logical,’ the lady said wryly, ‘but I think you missed my point completely.’

‘All right, you tell me.’ Mr. Sept held up both hands in mock surrender.

‘What I meant was,’ the lady continued, walking round and round the clearing now, ‘was that we don’t know what exactly is going on here; we’re not even sure that we’re up against anything, or that anything needs doing. First you took Art away from his adopted family because I told you to, and then I told the glams to send a message to Iris – that’s the girl there – that someone else would be taking her away from her miserable life in the circus. I meant it to be you and Art, don’t you see? But now everything’s messed up and I’m starting to think that that fairy who was traveling with Art had some valuable information about all these unexpected incidents. But should we do anything more, at the risk of causing more harm to other people? Do we even need to do anything when nothing needs to be done for events to unfold in the expected manner? Or should we do something anyway, do what we can, because we think we should to put things right?’ The lady blew at her hair and paused for thought. ‘You know,’ she said presently, ‘there were two men after Iris and her friend. Why?’

Mr. Sept paused for thought, digesting the questions the lady had raised. You never knew with women these days, getting their strange minds into business they shouldn’t even know about. He had met people like the lady during his travels, people who often went round asking ‘But sir, are you sure that would be ethical?’ He sometimes spent time arguing with them when he was in a good mood, and cussing at them when he wasn’t. Sometimes, most of the time, (he liked to say, firmly and convincingly); you just had to do it, whether it was ethical or not could be asked later. These people would argue against you, naturally, and tried to get you to their way of thinking. ‘But what if you wanted to do something that would hurt other people?’ they would ask, looking serious and wide-eyed. By this time, Mr. Sept would grin, pull out his notebook and start writing in it. The other party would be mystified and start prodding again. And Mr. Sept would say, ‘Did you think it was harmful of me to write, here and now, in front of you?’ And ‘No’ would come the answer. Then Mr. Sept would close his book with a snap, tap the pencil on the table and say, ‘That’s what I would ask myself too before I do anything I want to. Would it harm anyone else? I wouldn’t ask myself: would it be right or wrong? Because listen here, young man, everyone has a different idea of right and wrong, and what you would think of as unethical would probably be okay to someone else.’ And while the young man was pondering over this reply with a slightly dazed look on his face, Mr. Sept would sigh and say, in a long-suffering tone of voice, ‘Look, all these questions about whether something is ethical or not wouldn’t be practical in the long run. Say a man is in great pain and wants you to end his life. You know nothing can be done, but you still insist on telling him that he will survive and making sure that he does. It wouldn’t be ethical, according to you, to end his life, but would you have the heart to see him suffer till the end of his days, perhaps for years and years, or would you end his life now and grant him relief?’ And of course more arguments would follow that, with the young man becoming increasingly upset while Mr. Sept chuckled and wrote a bit more in his notebook to annoy the precocious brat…

And then something about what the lady had said about telling him to fetch Art clicked –

‘You mean you were the one who was pushing us around?’ he said, flushing with indignation. ‘I demand to know what you think you’re doing!’

‘Not pushing,’ the lady countered sadly, ‘but really, just tweaking events. Don’t you see?’

‘No.’ Mr. Sept went to sit on an exceptionally large root at the edge of the clearing. He turned his back on the lady and stared off through the trees, bitter with disappointment and anger.

The lady watched him for a few minutes, sighed, and then headed off into the trees.

Out of the edge of sight, a few pairs of bright eyes watched her go. Someone said, very softly, ‘Follow her.’

An owl rose out of the darkness nearby, silently drifting under the trees in the direction the lady had left. Mr. Sept continued staring at nothing, not realizing that he was alone in the clearing.

Nano 10

2007-11-16T01:49:00.000+08:00

‘There – there’s a man in there!’ Iris flung a hand out towards the tent, horrified.

‘Move, Iris!’ Jonas pushed her out of the way and ripped open the cloth covering the doorway. There was a pause. Jonas let out a sigh of relief. And then he giggled.

‘What’s so funny?’ Shock had given way to annoyance by now. It wasn’t funny to find a strange little man in some place where you were supposed to take off your clothes. Jonas stepped into the tent, shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles.

‘It’s just a glam,’ he said. He held out a hand to the little man, who nodded and took a fingertip. ‘They’re harmless, Iris. You could have just asked him to leave or something.’

‘I’ve never seen him before,’ Iris said haughtily. ‘Never heard of him too.’

‘Never seen them before, have you?’ Jonas glanced over his shoulder at her, puzzled. ‘They’re usually found around these parts. Where have you been?’

‘With you, obviously.’ Iris crossed her arms and huffed. ‘Huh, it was a shock all right, when he called me Miss Langdon. I wonder how he knows.’

‘He did?’ Jonas opened his hand, palm upwards. The man stepped on to it with careful balance. Jonas brought the man up to eye level and smiled. ‘Can you tell us, sir?’

The little man nodded and cupped his hands to his mouth. ‘Someone told me,’ he said in a surprisingly loud voice for someone his size. ‘I was informed that there was a girl named Iris Langdon here, and I was entrusted with the task to inform her of certain matters.’

‘Ah I see.’ Jonas raised his eyebrows questioningly. ‘Any idea what he means?’

‘No,’ she said, pushing past Jonas to look at the man. ‘I’m sorry sir, but perhaps you’ve got the wrong person.’

‘But your name is Iris Langdon, isn’t it?’ the man said sharply. ‘Who else do you know has the same name as you do in this place?’

He does have a point, she admitted. ‘Nobody else,’ she said. ‘Okay. What do you want with me?’

‘I was entrusted with a task, and that task was to tell you certain important matters,’ the man said patiently. ‘Would this be a convenient time for you to have a talk with me?’

‘Not really,’ Jonas interrupted. ‘She has a performance in five minutes. Maybe she can talk to you later?’ And then – ‘Ow.’ Iris had kicked his ankle.

‘I hope you don’t mind, sir,’ she said sweetly, ‘but I really do have a performance now. Would it be all right with you if we met up later?’

‘It will be fine with me,’ the man agreed. He bowed again, bringing his hat to his knees. ‘I shall be leaving now. Sorry for the intrusion.’ He leapt off Jonas’s hand and trotted out of the tent.

‘I can’t believe you’ve never met a glam before,’ Jonas remarked. ‘The kids usually try to catch one or two and get them to shift shape. I heard Deformed Rabbit’s their favourite.’

‘What is he anyway? A fairy?’ Iris stuck her head out for a last glimpse at the man. He had vanished in the crowd of people waiting for the show to start.

‘Not exactly, but he’s one of the little people. Glams can shift shape at will, into anything they like. Usually they cast a glamour on themselves to fool people…hence the name. Here, you’ve got to get ready now!’

‘Righto. Now get out!’

The seats were packed when Iris clambered into the tank. Red balloons bobbed above the heads of the audience and there were shouts of delight and awe as she plunged into the water. It was icy today, and there was a strong breeze. She pulled herself through the water to the bottom of the tank, where the men had set up the stones and plants beforehand.

And then she saw the man – the one who had watched her the other day at the creek. Iris pretended to comb her hair, as per routine, but she kept the man in sight out of the corner of her eye. He was standing towards the back of the crowd, a scarf wound round his neck and his mouth. His eyes were shaded by a cap pulled down low, but she could feel his eyes on her while she performed.

He was near the back of the tank when the men helped her out of the water. Iris pulled off the wet clinging tail of the mermaid costume and dumped it in the changing tent. Jonas was nowhere to be seen. She joined the crowd of people leaving the field.

‘This is really stupid,’ she grumbled, shivering in the wind. The tights were freezing her legs as she shuffled to the gate with the crowd. Had Jonas gone to meet the glam man without her? It didn’t seem likely…but she couldn’t have stayed at the tank with the man waiting for her like this. It was all going insane.

‘Hey miss,’ said the man behind her, ‘are you lost?’

‘What?’ She craned her neck to look at him as the crowd swept her to the gate. The man had the appearance a rich trader, one of those who wandered from town to town buying up people’s harvest and livestock cheaply and bringing them to the city to sell for profit. Iris hurried forwards, reluctant to speak to him. All the mothers in the water circus had warned her about men like this.

‘Hey miss! Miss!’ the man called as Iris broke away from the crowd and made a dash away from the gate.

She was starting to feel quite sick. This was too much for one day. First there had been the glam, then that man, and now complete strangers were talking to her in a much too friendly way. She should just go back to the changing tent and take off this bloody costume. And then she would have a long nap in her own room and a cup of hot chocolate would definitely be forthcoming. Yes. Good. And Jonas could go drown himself in any tank for all she cared.

‘Shit.’

‘Don’t shout,’ the man in the cap said softly. ‘Do you want your friend to get hurt?’

Jonas was slumped at the back of the tent, gagged with his hands tied above his head. Iris recognized the cloth as pieces of her skirt. He stared at Iris in horror, frozen with fear. The man had a small thin knife in one hand and a black square object in the other.

‘Got them, Skinny?’

Iris turned around very quickly. It was the man who looked like a rich trader. He grinned at her, showing teeth stained with many unlikely colors. It looked like a blind dentist had deliberately colored in his teeth and abandoned all his artistic sensibilities in the process. They were disgusting. Iris reeled backwards, forgetting for the moment that there was the man with the knife behind her. She felt the thin edge of the knife press against the back of her neck.

‘Now sit down very quietly,’ the man in the cap said, ‘and don’t struggle.’

‘Where are we now?’ the fairy hissed from within the depths of Art’s pocket.

Art glanced at the signpost, sneaked a look at Mr. Sept and then whispered into his pocket, ‘Five minutes to Hangman, I think.’

‘I’m thirsty!’ the fairy complained. ‘And there are things in here. What’s with the bits of string and pencil?’

‘Shut up.’ Art looked up quickly as Mr. Sept stopped to consult a map. The man still did not suspect or know about the fairy’s existence, and the fairy herself had made Art promise not to give her presence away.

They had been traveling for two days now, cutting through woods and rivers and the occasional village. Towns were hard to come by in these isolated parts, and the people they met were usually heading to the Big City. The fairy had been an interesting companion to have on lonely nights, or during the long boring walk along dirt roads and through empty woods. She had an unfortunate tendency to complain a lot though.

‘We’ll be stopping in Hangman for supplies,’ Mr. Sept said, folding up the map and stowing it carefully in his coat pocket. ‘We’re running low on bread. I wonder why. Hmm.’

Art heard the fairy giggle in his pocket and placed a hand over it to warn her. She had taken a liking to bread and often bullied Art to give part of his share to her. It had only made him take more and more bread whenever Mr. Sept handed it out, but the man still suspected nothing, luckily. But Mr. Sept was a sharp one, all right; he was bound to find out…

‘Isn’t it odd,’ Mr. Sept was saying musingly, ‘to think of how much a teenage boy can eat in one day?’

‘Yeah,’ Art agreed fervently. ‘Odd. But I always feel hungry.’

‘I’m sure you do.’ Mr. Sept smiled warmly and nodded. ‘I remember when I was a lad, always looking forward to the next meal. And now we should be going. Night’s coming fast.’

‘Don’t shout,’ the man in the cap said. ‘And I won’t stick this in your arm.’

Jonas nodded; his eyes dull with exhaustion. Iris hung her head and watched her feet as they stumbled past the wood and headed across a bare meadow. There was no one about this afternoon. The circus people did not appear to have realized that two of their members were missing. It was nearing sunset now, with shadows lengthening and the light turning orangey-red.

The second man – the one Iris had mistaken as a trader – had been pushing them to walk without any rest. They had been given water once, just once, but Iris would have gladly given that up for half an hour’s nap on the grass. The other man in the cap, who still had his knife out and held threateningly near Iris or Jonas, kept as silent as possible except to urge them on.

The little man had not been seen all afternoon. Iris had hoped at first that he would somehow meet them and alert the circus people when he realized the danger the two of them were in. But he had not turned up, so maybe he had been a product of her overactive imagination after all…

‘Sit,’ the man with the knife grunted. ‘Don’t move.’

Iris and Jonas collapsed gratefully on the hot grass, maneuvering themselves to lie on their sides as best as they could in spite of their bound hands. The men had taken out their gags, but they had also warned that any conversation would be rewarded with something. The something was probably another threat or a nick with the knife, but both Iris and Jonas knew it would be stupid to push their luck further. Luck was already waiting at the edge of a cliff for the signal for a suicide leap. It was best not to provoke her.

‘Reckon we’ll reach the next village by tomorrow, Skinny?’ the second man said. ‘It’s good walking in these parts. Very few people, so I’ve heard.’

The man named Skinny nodded and said nothing. He had put away his knife, but his hands were twitching weirdly as he sat and watched the horizon with a blank expression on his face. The other man took out a paper package and unfolded it carefully. Jonas glanced at it hopefully.

‘Want some, boy?’ the man said, laughing meanly as he held out the paper. There was no food, only a small mound of white powder. Jonas shook his head and turned away miserably. The man chuckled, then began pinching the powder and transferring it to his mouth. Iris lay on her side and drowsed.

‘We need food, Jamie,’ Skinny spoke up unexpectedly. ‘The kids need something to keep walking.’

‘Yes, of course, Skinny.’ The other man scowled and sucked noisily on his powdered fingers. ‘But where are we going to find it, eh?’

‘You heard what they said,’ Skinny said meaningfully. ‘Keep the kids alive until they reach them.’

‘Yes yes,’ Jamie said, annoyed. ‘I heard them. D’you have any food on you then, since you’re so clever?’

‘It would be better if the kids stayed upright by the time we reached there.’ Skinny had the knife out again. He began hacking at grass and flowers absently.

‘I see.’ Jamie sniffed and sighed. ‘We’ll have to keep walking for the night then. No rest.’ He saw Jonas’s look of horror and grinned. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice? Walking under the stars for miles and miles,’ he added.

‘We might not even be upright by the time we reach the next village,’ Iris said resentfully. ‘Why don’t you just take us back to the circus?’

Jamie laughed, wheezing and spewing powder. ‘Are you stupid or what? Take you back to your people! Hah!’

‘Walk,’ Skinny said, ‘we have to walk for the night. Get up.’ He held the knife a few inches from Jonas’s face. The boy blanched and struggled to sit up.

‘We’ll be walking eh,’ Jamie said, sighing. ‘I hate walking.’

There was a shout. Jamie yelled and grabbed at the paper of powder. It broke into flames in one tiny corner. Skinny jumped up, knife at the ready.

The flames reached the powder. There was pause, during which the powder smoldered white and blue. And then the whole thing burst into flames.

Somewhere just within her range of hearing, Iris thought she heard a chuckle. Someone pinched her arm, a small nip near her elbow.

‘Follow me,’ a voice whispered. ‘Come on.’

Jamie was stamping on the fire now, vainly attempting to beat out the flames though the powder was flying about like sparks. Skinny watched him without emotion, holding the knife slack in his hand. Iris sat up slowly and began to stand up, feeling the tug of the unseen fingers on her skin.

‘Try running,’ Skinny said without turning his head. ‘We’ll see how far you can go, miss.’

Iris froze, sensing Jonas doing the same beside her. They stared at each other helplessly. There was another nip at her wrist, but she refused to move.

‘Come on,’ the voice said impatiently. ‘We’ll handle them.’

‘He knows,’ Iris whispered back. ‘He won’t stop to hurt us.’

‘Right.’ The voice sighed. ‘Come on, lads.’

There was another yell as Jamie jumped back from the flames. His shoe was on fire, the flames creeping up his trouser leg. Skinny stood by impassively as the other man rolled around on the ground, beating at his leg desperately. The knife edge glinted in the firelight.

‘And a one, a two, a three!’ someone yelled. There was a loud cry. Skinny’s head came up a fraction, a puzzled expression crossing his face momentarily. Then the knife came up.

There was a loud sickening crack. Skinny dropped to one knee, his knife held steady in his hand. His eyes darted about his person, his eyelids twitching madly. Jamie rolled over onto his face and fell silent, gurgling. The fire had gone out, but it had taken half of his trouser leg with it.

There was a thud, and Skinny fell forwards on to his front. He was back up on his knee again within seconds. The knife was flung through the air expertly and came to a halt on its point in the grass. A cry of pain was swiftly cut off.

‘Show yourself,’ Skinny said quietly. ‘And I won’t hurt you.’

Iris felt a frantic tugging on her elbow and risked a look down. There was a little man there, similar in appearance to the glam this morning. The man tugged at her elbow again, looking desperate. Iris shook her head slowly and bit her lips.

‘Stupid –ing things,’ Jamie muttered, getting up shakily. ‘Bloody stupid. Do you think you can stop us?’

‘Negotiation,’ Skinny said. ‘No point.’

‘You want me to negotiate?’ Jamie raged. ‘With them?’

‘No, they should negotiate with us,’ Skinny continued, ‘if they want to stay unhurt.’

‘Okay mister,’ someone spoke out of the grass. ‘Name your terms, we don’t want anyone to get hurt.’

Skinny reached over and pulled the knife out of the grass. A tiny arm came away with it, speared on the tip and leaking blood. Iris looked away, queasy with disgust and fear.

‘Show yourself,’ Skinny repeated. ‘Now.’

‘I’m picking up something,’ the fairy said that night.

Art held her up to his eyes and frowned. ‘Getting what?’

‘Some signal,’ the fairy said, pulling a short stick out of her dress. She ran her fingers down its length, forehead creasing with worry and confusion. ‘This is odd.’

‘Be careful,’ Art warned as he placed her on the table. The fairy stayed hidden behind his mug. On the other side of the table, Mr. Sept shook the newspaper and sighed.

‘Someone’s calling for help,’ she said, running her fingers over and over the stick. ‘I think it’s the glams. But why?’

‘Can’t you ask someone else to go help?’ Art whispered, lowering his head.

‘I can, but you need permission from your lord to ask the other fairies to go to them. I don’t know where he is now.’

‘Cold night,’ Mr. Sept remarked, apropos of nothing. Art straightened up, looking as innocent as possible. Mr. Sept stayed behind his paper and sighed again. ‘It’ll be nasty out tomorrow.’

‘Yeah.’ Art waited for the man to continue, but Mr. Sept said nothing. The fairy beckoned to him urgently. He lowered his head again.

‘Signal says that some men have seen them,’ the fairy said. ‘What the – that’s violating the Little People’s code of law! It’s a – ‘

‘They need help,’ Art cut in. ‘They’re calling for help because the men got them. Don’t you think so?’

‘Yeah, that’s possible.’ The fairy twisted off the end of the stick. ‘I can call the others, but that would mean…’ She fell silent and stared off into space blankly. ‘Oh shit.’

‘What? What is it?’

‘The glams – the men – the – ‘

‘What? What is it? Tell me!’

‘This is bad!’ the fairy cried. ‘Bad bad bad bad!’ She flapped her arms in distress. ‘Shit shit shit shit.’

‘Maybe I can help,’ Art said, realizing that this could potentially be the stupidest thing he would do in his short boring life. ‘Maybe I can call for help from other people.’

‘And maybe you can acquire some superpowers by morning!’ the fairy snapped. ‘Don’t be stupid!’

‘What do you want me to do then?’ he snapped back. ‘This is a crisis!’

‘Yeah, but – ‘

‘Art?’

Art shot up, heart thudding. Mr. Sept had put down the paper. The man leaned back in his chair and brought his fingertips together thoughtfully.

‘Are you hiding something from me?’ Mr. Sept inclined his head and waited. He didn’t sound angry, but you never knew.

‘No, Mr. Sept,’ Art lied.

‘There’s a fairy behind your mug. Care to explain that?’

‘Er.’ Art wetted his lips and gulped. ‘Er.’

‘I did tell you to forget all about the fairy three nights ago, didn’t I?’

‘Yes you did, Mr. Sept.’

‘So why is it still with you?’

‘She came with me.’ Art glanced down at the fairy. She held up a rude finger and scowled. ‘I wanted her to leave me, but she insisted on coming along.’

‘I see. May I speak to her then?’

The fairy stood up and dusted her dress scornfully, glaring at Art the whole time. She marched out from behind the mug, chin tilted in defiance. Mr. Sept watched her in amusement.

‘Good evening, madam,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘Shut your face, old man!’ she yelled, shaking a fist at him.

Art rolled his eyes. Oh drama.

‘Would you be so kind to explain as to why you followed my young ward here for days?’ Mr. Sept leaned down to take a closer look at the fairy. ‘You have to tell me, in accordance with the law devised by the Little People. Don’t think you can fool me with your words and cunning, miss.’

‘Okay then.’ The fairy crossed her arms and sat down on the edge of Art’s plate. ‘I need help. Since you’re so knowledgeable in the ways of the Little People, why don’t you tell me where can I get help very soon?’

‘First tell me what the problem is,’ Mr. Sept said, smiling a little secretively, ‘then maybe I can tell you something to solve it.’

The fairy pointed accusingly the stick at him. ‘Look, I can’t tell you everything. Technically I’m already violating the law because I didn’t show myself willingly to you. I was trying to help that big baby there who’s been carrying me around. I just need help…badly. But it involves glams. Do you know the penalty for allowing a human to see one of them?’

‘I happen to know.’ Mr. Sept tapped a finger against his lips. ‘If I’m not mistaken, the human would have to pay the Fairy Queen, something involving food or water. Am I right?’

‘Wrong.’ The fairy dipped the end of her stick into the remains of the food. ‘It used to be, until you people started hunting us fairies. You broke the old contract, and now the Queen has come up with her own rules too. The punishment for seeing and capturing a glam is seven years in the Queen’s palace.’

‘But you need help now, do you not?’

‘Not me, but I need help to help the others. All right, I do. But I don’t see where I can get any. And we’re forbidden to accept anything from humans. We’ve been cheated for too long, mister!’

‘Maybe we can negotiate with the Queen,’ Art suggested. ‘You know, we give her something, but she gives some help in return.’

‘Are you stupid?’ The fairy flipped some mashed potato at his face. ‘Look, if we’re going to get help, we need humans. Fairies have way too much red tape in dealing with these kinds of things. But the thing is – the thing is – I don’t know whether I can trust you with this.’

‘Do you have any choice?’ Mr. Sept’s smile seemed to be looking oddly triumphant.

‘I do,’ the fairy said, ‘but it will take time. I need it now. Do you know anything or anyone to help me then?’

‘Glams. Help. Fairy. Penalty. An interesting combination. A fascinating dilemma.’ Mr. Sept picked up his cup of tea and sipped delicately. ‘What are the odds eh?’

‘So are you in, mister?’ The fairy slid off the plate and marched across the table to Mr. Sept’s saucer. ‘I’m not saying you should, or that I look forward to it, but if you are, we need to hurry.’

‘I’m in.’ Mr. Sept put down the cup and dabbed at his lips. ‘Art?’

‘Yes?’

‘Fetch me my books, will you?’

‘I want to hear what you’ve got to say to her.’ Art remained in his seat, irritation rising out of the blue. ‘You have to let me know what you intend to do, sir.’

‘Look, we don’t want to make this harder for all of us, do we?’

‘I don’t want to, but you’re doing it, sir.’

‘Art?’

‘Mr. Sept, I met this fairy. I’ve been keeping her with me all this time, even after you told me to leave her. Now that something turns up, I want to help, even if I don’t know what’s in it for me, or what is going to happen. But now you’re telling me to just leave because you want to help, or is it because you reckon there’s something in it for you?’ Mr. Sept’s face dimmed slightly, his smile fading. ‘I don’t think what you’re doing is fair, that’s all,’ Art continued. ‘If you’re thinking of getting something out of my friend, you’d better tell me first. Or we’re leaving.’

‘But how will you survive out here? Alone? You wouldn’t last a day,’ Mr. Sept replied softly. ‘There are some things you still don’t understand, Art. I know better. You could help by fetching me my books.’

‘But – ‘

‘Don’t argue, Art,’ the fairy spoke up. ‘Please. We need to do this quickly.’

‘I’ll be right with you.’

Art got up reluctantly and left the room. The main room of the inn was quiet, filled with several men drinking quietly in corners or beside the fire. The boy ran up the stairs to the room where he was to share with Mr. Sept that night. And stopped dead in the doorway.

‘It’s going to be a fishy business, all right,’ the lady said.

‘Who are you?’ Art stayed in the dark passage, ready to run back downstairs and call for Mr. Sept.

‘I’m the lady in your dreams, Art.’ She sighed, as though regretting that she had ever spoken to him in his sleep. ‘I know what happened just now between you and Mr. Sept. And the fairy too.’

‘Are you going to help us then?’

‘No. I’m here to take you away. From Mr. Sept.’

‘But I thought I had a task – ‘

‘You did. Now the damn girl’s gone missing. I can’t find her.’

‘But I can’t…I’ve got to help my friend…’

‘The fairy, yes, of course we have to help her.’ The lady’s dark eyes gleamed. ‘We need her.’

‘Why doesn’t anyone tell me what they want to do?’ Art grabbed a handful of his own hair and pulled. ‘First Mr. Sept and now you’re doing it! Will someone please tell me what is going on?’

‘You will, soon enough.’ The lady stood up gracefully and held out a hand for him to take. ‘We shall have to be quick.’

‘Tell me!’ Art made a piteous face, bewilderment mangling his expression into something resembling a very badly made Halloween mask of Freddy Krueger. (And that, I assure you, is a phenomenon you don’t want to see twice. In fact, it would be better if you never saw it once.)

‘Hush my love. Even I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m supposed to be in the know, you know what I’m saying?’

Nano 9

2007-11-14T00:30:00.001+08:00

It was evening, but there was no town or village in sight. Art sat in the shade of a large rock and chewed on his nails disconsolately. Mr. Sept was somewhere among the bushes, gathering twigs and stones for a fire.

It wasn’t that he was afraid, Art said in his head, but it was unnerving to be out with a near stranger in these strange parts. They had met only three people in the course of their day’s journey, silent men out on unspeakable errands to who knew where. And then there was Mr. Sept. The man hardly talked unless he absolutely had to, and even then, his words were so few that he might have kept silent the whole time for all Art cared.

‘We should build the fire to last the night,’ the man said, coming out of the greenery behind the rock suddenly. ‘It’s not safe out here.’

‘You mean wild animals?’ Art said, pulling his pack towards him.

‘No, I mean men,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘There are always men out at night, men who may not be as harmless as we think.’

‘You mean robbers and thieves,’ Art said, his heart going up to his throat. He hadn’t expected this. Laurel would have told him, but she had been crying too much to speak to him.

‘Those are the nicer ones,’ Mr. Sept added. ‘We may meet those who would not hesitate to do anything.’

It was just after sunset when Mr. Sept suggested that they turn in for the night. Art agreed, if only to shut his eyes against the unseen horrors of the night. The fire was kept low, with Mr. Sept feeding the occasional twig and branch into it from time to time. The man offered to keep the first watch, to which Art could only agree reluctantly. Horrors and things that go bump in the night were more likely to be seen in the later parts of the night, after all.

And then there were the dreams.

‘Art, is it?’

It was the lady again, the lady he had met in the first night in the Lefroys’ home. Art sat up and stared at her. She was leaning against the rock, watching him in the soft light radiating from her. In the darkness out here, the light was clearer than ever.

‘Yes,’ he said cautiously. ‘What do you want?’

‘I promised you that someone would come, didn’t I?’

‘Yes you did. Is his name Mr. Sept?’

The lady waved away his words dismissively. ‘I do not care for names. All I know is that someone would be taking you away from the place where you were found. So he has, I see.’

‘But where is he taking me really?’ Art said. ‘I still don’t know his plans. He’s in the book-trading business, but that doesn’t sound much like an adventure – ‘

‘Look, kiddo, if adventures meant that you had to walk around in some stupid mail, or find a unicorn or something, you’re wrong,’ the lady cut in impatiently. ‘Enemies come in mysterious guises, as you undoubtedly do not know. Adventures begin in the most boring ways possible. I have seen many, and I know how they usually begin, how they would progress. But the one thing I do not know is how they will end.’

‘Right. Okay. So I’m on an adventure. But what am I supposed to do?’

‘I was going to tell you that,’ the lady said. She came away from the rock and sat down beside him. ‘You have to find someone now. It’s your turn. Someone needs your help and you – like Mr. Sept before you – will have to lead this person out of the place he or she has stayed for years.’

‘What am I going to say to convince this person then, to make him leave?’ Art said incredulously. ‘You can’t just say to someone, “Hey buddy, I’m going to give you the help you need, let’s go!” can I?’

‘No you cannot,’ the lady said with amusement. ‘Of course you can’t. Someone else will do the convincing. You will just have to look for this person and tell him – or her – what you intend to do, and where you are going. You will have to work with Mr. Sept on these matters.’

‘That doesn’t sound so bad.’

‘I see.’ The lady nodded. ‘You sound confident about this. I wish you all the best. Good luck.’

‘Er, thank you. And good night.’ Art waited for the lady to leave.

The lady leaned forward, pale silver light spilling over his face, and breathed on his eyelids. He fell asleep.

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Art opened his eyes blearily. The dark face of Mr. Sept loomed over him.

‘It’s your watch now, lad,’ the man said. He sounded tired and sleepy. ‘Wake me up if there’s anything.’

Art sat up slowly and washed his face with the water from his bottle. Mr. Sept curled up to sleep beside the fire, pulling several blankets over his thin frame up to his chin. Art noticed that he had not taken off his coat, even to sleep.

The fire fell lower as the night progressed. Art dropped sticks into the orange flames half-heartedly, waiting for his watch to end and he could go back to sleep again. He thought over the dream he had just before he had been shaken awake. So he had forgotten the first dream, which was why he didn’t know that someone – Mr. Sept, that is – was going to take him away. Laurel had been quicker than he had on that. He wasn’t going to forget this most recent dream any time now. He had to find out where they were going from Mr. Sept and get him to help out somehow, to find this person. And he still hadn’t found out who was the mysterious lady. She didn’t quite strike him as a proper goddess of mercy. There had to be –

There was a loud crack. Then a muffled swear was cut off hurriedly.

‘Hello?’ Art lit a branch from the fire and held it up. He couldn’t see anyone within the circle of light from the fire. Someone was hiding in the undergrowth then, watching him and Mr. Sept. He felt jolts of nervous electricity running from his scalp and down his back. Okay. Stay calm. Don’t panic. Don’t scream –

‘Oh bugger.’ Someone rolled out from the bushes, but he – or it – was still out of range from the flickering light. Art held out his makeshift torch in that direction and squinted into the shadows. A small form could be discerned, as though a very short man was curled up into a ball and lying on his side to stay hidden.

‘I can see you, you know,’ Art said, keeping his voice steady. ‘Come into the light, where I can see you better.’

The ball stiffened and went perfectly still. Art crept across to it as quietly as he could, the torch gripped tightly in his cold fingers. He held his breath and picked up a short stick with a convenient sharp end. The ball remained still, as though the person – or something – thought he could fool Art that he – or it – was nothing more than a rock or very large stone. Art darted forward with the stick and administered a sharp jab in the ball’s side. There was a squeal.

‘Show yourself!’ he yelled – more out of nervousness than to show who was in charge here.

The ball uncurled itself into a short slender figure. Art held the torch over it. And then he stared.

‘A fairy?’ he gasped.

‘No, mister, I’m a tiny little being with stupid flimsy wings and a stupid flimsy dress,’ the fairy said sarcastically. ‘I’m not a fairy. Not really.’

‘You’re a girl!’

‘So what? You’re a sexist, are you?’ The fairy’s chin tilted upwards with admirable defiance. ‘Huh! I’d like to see you being hunted down like some stupid bird going Tweet!’

‘Wait. Wait. People hunt you down?’ Art doused the torch with the last of the water out of his bottle. He tossed the blackened branch into the bushes and turned back to stare at the fairy. ‘Wait, you even exist?’

‘Of course I do, you idiot!’ The fairy marched over the grass to his feet and kicked him on the ankle, hard. Art ignored the pain. The pain was there, he could feel it, therefore it followed that the fairy did exist. His brain, however, took some time to reconcile itself to the fairy’s existence. It wasn’t the part that had been kicked, after all.

‘But fairies don’t exist!’

‘Not in the way you think.’ The fairy sighed and went over to sit on the stones surrounding the fire. ‘Look, I am a fairy, but definitely not how you think I am. I don’t have wings, and I don’t usually walk around in a dress like this. I’m only wearing these flimsy things because I was on my way to my sister’s party. And then something hit me and I was unconscious till evening.’

‘So why don’t you go to your sister’s place then?’ Art bent down to have a closer look at the strange fragile creature in front of the fire.

‘I can’t, all right. I don’t have good navigational skills, and it’s dangerous in there.’ The fairy waved vaguely behind her. ‘So I thought I’d wait till morning, but then something tried to eat me. Thought I could spend the night near the fire, but there you were waiting for me.’ The fairy scratched her chin reflectively. ‘You’re not going to burn me alive or anything, are you?’

‘Er, no. What would be the point?’

‘Exactly, that’s the question I’m always asking myself. But I’ve always heard that people are only interested in hunting fairies or roasting them alive. I still don’t get it. I mean – we’re not that pretty anyway – the glams can do so much better – and we’re so small, that there’s no point in eating us.’

Art poured a few drops of water out of the bottle into the cap. The fairy accepted it gratefully.

‘I don’t have anything against girls,’ Art said apologetically. ‘I have a girl best friend anyway. I was just shocked when you turned up.’

‘You’re not from these parts, are you?’ The fairy looked at him shrewdly over the bottle cap. ‘Most people around here do some serious trading in captive fairies. They don’t just believe in us, they hunt us.’

‘I’ve never heard of it anyway.’ Art held out a slice of bread to the fairy. She stared at it.

‘What’s this?’

‘Bread. It’s made of flour and…things. Lots of flour anyway.’

‘Good eating?’ she said doubtfully, tearing off a small corner. She chewed on it slowly, as though afraid that it was going to taste horrible. ‘Not bad,’ she conceded.

‘It’s good and nourishing,’ Art said. He grimaced slightly. ‘I sound like someone’s mother.’

‘I don’t mind.’ The fairy giggled. ‘Look, I really am grateful that you’re not trying to harm me or anything. So if there’s anything you want me to do for you, just tell me.’

‘Er, you don’t have to.’ Art grinned sheepishly and added, ‘I don’t ask for anything in return.’

‘I want to,’ the fairy insisted. ‘It’s fairy code of honor. Do unto others as they have done unto you. In the matter of good deeds, we have to offer help in return. It’s like a debt or something. Very sensible. But you can always postpone your wish for help until any time convenient to you.’

‘Thank you.’ Art noticed the sensible brown boots on the fairy’s feet but wisely chose not to comment on them. Instead he asked, carefully, ‘So what do fairies really look like, then? I’ve always thought they had wings and wore…pretty dresses and flowers.’

The fairy gave him another odd look. ‘Are you from another world or what?’

‘I’ve sometimes wondered,’ Art confessed. ‘I don’t know a lot of things here.’

‘I was serious when I said that.’ The fairy narrowed her eyes and ran her gaze from his head to chin. ‘There’ve been stories about people wandering in from different worlds. We’ve been seeing more of them lately. Noticed anything odd these days?’

‘Er, no. But I think I should tell you – I’m not from here. I was found by a family and they took me in. I still don’t know a lot of things, honestly.’

‘I see.’ The fairy tore off pieces of bread and chewed on them thoughtfully. ‘We’ve been seeing unusual fluctuations in energy these past few weeks.’

‘Thaumic energy?’ Art ventured, keeping his excitement at bay. ‘Is it unexplained energy?’

‘I don’t know about thaumic anything. But we can detect changes in the air and everything. There’s been a lot of…disturbances. And they don’t only happen where you can see them.’ The fairy looked severe as she finished the last of the bread and glared fiercely at Art. ‘Do you have any ideas on this?’

‘I told you, I don’t know much,’ Art protested. ‘I would tell you more if I could, but – ‘

The fairy gasped and curled up into a ball abruptly. Art turned to look over his shoulder. Mr. Sept was awake, reclining on his elbows and watching the boy with a curious expression on his lined face. Art heard the fairy roll over to the bushes.

‘Yes sir?’ Art said nervously.

‘That was a fairy, wasn’t it?’ Mr. Sept said.

‘Erm, I’m not too sure what it was.’

‘Tell me the truth, boy,’ Mr. Sept said sharply. ‘Did you think that was a fairy?’

‘No sir.’

‘Then it never existed. Do you get my meaning? You never saw it, and you never spoke to it. Whatever happened tonight did not involve a fairy. Because they don’t exist, am I right?’

‘Yes sir.’ Art crossed his fingers behind his back. ‘Fairies don’t exist, sir.’

‘And stop calling me “sir”. I will not tolerate any attempts to suck up to me.’ Mr. Sept smiled wryly. ‘I’ve told you that.’

‘Yes, Mr. Sept.’

‘Now get back to sleep. I’ll take over the watch.’

Art crawled under his blankets and turned his back on the fire and Mr. Sept.

Something crept into the folds of the blanket and into his cupped hand. There was the faintest rustle of wings and the smallest hint of a dress before it was whipped out of sight. Art waited until Mr. Sept was busy with the kettle before peeking at his hand. The fairy was curled into a tight comfortable ball with her wings as a pillow, snoring lightly in her sleep.

Nano 8

2007-11-13T15:11:00.001+08:00

‘I told you. I did tell you.’ Laurel pushed past him angrily, choking on her tears. Art stepped out of the way silently.

Mr. Lefroy leaned against the doorframe and watched the boy. Art turned away, uneasy.

‘It’s a good offer, Art,’ Lefroy said. ‘Mr. Sept knows what he’s talking about. And a future in the books business will be quite stable and comfortable.’

‘But I don’t want it,’ Art said, not looking at Lefroy. ‘I know, it’s for my own good, but I don’t want it enough. I want to…I guess I want to stay here, and help out in the fields, and everything.’

‘I know,’ Lefroy said heavily. ‘I would have liked you to stay here too.’

‘I’m sorry for upsetting Laurel though,’ Art muttered. ‘She expected this, I think.’

‘Laurel’ll get over it after a while.’ Lefroy shook his head sadly. ‘But she’s cut up about you leaving now.’

Ellen came out of the room and placed a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder. ‘The girl will be all right after a few days,’ she said. She smiled gently at Art. ‘I’m really sorry you’re leaving, but as Christopher said, it will be better for you, Art. There’s – there’s nothing much for you here, I’m afraid. We would have liked you to stay, very much so…but there it is. You stay here, and then you’ll realize that you can’t move or even breathe after a few years. It’s not a good place for a young man to find his fortune.’

‘I’m not looking for a fortune,’ Art argued. ‘I just want to stay here. I don’t mind living here and earning my keep, even if it’s not a lot, and it’s a lot of hard work in the fields.’

‘Listen to the lady, young man,’ Lefroy said. ‘I’ve talked it over with her and Mr. Sept, and we all agreed that it would be a better prospect for you to follow him. You can come home in the future, once you’ve settled in with the business, and we will always, always, welcome you back.’

‘But.’ He bit his lip and fell silent. Ellen pulled him into a hug and patted his shoulder. Art kept quiet, waiting for his throat to unstuck itself.

The next morning, Mr. Sept arrived in time for breakfast, packed and ready. Ellen kept herself busy with preparing breakfast and slipping the last few things into Art’s pack. Laurel had shut herself up in the attic and was refusing to come down, even after her father went upstairs to coax her down. Vivien slept peacefully in bed, oblivious to the bustle and talk.

Breakfast was over too soon, and then it was time to leave. The sun had not risen properly yet, but Mr. Sept insisted – gently – that they had to leave soon to arrive in the nearest town that evening. Ellen handed a bottle to Art without saying anything, her eyes red. Lefroy cleared his throat several times and went up to the attic again to bring his daughter down for the goodbyes.

Art was halfway out of the yard with the man, when he heard the patter of footsteps and a shriek. Laurel flung herself around his leg and wailed. ‘Don’t go!’

‘Er.’ He stopped and pulled her arms off his numb leg. ‘Laurel. I have to go. I don’t want to, you know, as much as you.’

‘But I want you to stay!’

‘Look,’ he said patiently, kneeling down to look her in the face. ‘I’ll be back soon, I promise. I’ll bring you back presents too, or anything you want. I can get you all those science journals, nearly all of them, where I’m going. I promise.’

‘Okay.’ She grabbed his face, then pulled him forwards and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. ‘Keep your promise, okay? Or I’ll go out looking for you. And then you’ll be sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ he reassured her, smiling.

And then they were off, the two of them, man and boy. Art turned for a last look at the house, but Ellen or Lefroy had already shut the door. Mr. Sept turned to look too, and nodded knowingly to the boy. They didn’t say anything for the next hour or so.

‘One last performance today, and then we’ll be moving on,’ Iris said as she checked the list. ‘Good. I’m getting sick of this place already.’

‘Where are we heading to next?’ Katya reached over and snatched the list back. ‘Looks like I’m on duty today with the boys.’

‘Not sure.’ Iris nibbled on a nail nervously. ‘I hope the river isn’t flooded though. My dad said that we’ll be taking that route.’

‘What route?’ Katya said absently, reading the list critically. ‘Hey, look here, you’re on the mermaid performance again. It’s not your day!’

‘Anna’s sick today.’ Iris sighed and added, ‘Of course she would be, stupid girl. She went out swimming last night with some boys. Her cousin’s mother caught her, and then she – the mother, I mean – brought the boys back to their fathers and told them everything. Anna would be stupid to show her face again around her.’

‘I see.’ Katya smirked and shook her head. ‘Tut tut. You would have thought that girls these days had more brains.’

‘And more time to do other things besides meeting boys secretly,’ Iris said. ‘Hey Katya, have you seen anyone suspicious around here lately? Men, for example?’

‘If you’re talking about those weird men watching the creek the other day, then no, I haven’t. But I can see several suspicious men looking at us right now.’ Katya tossed her head, setting her hair flying in the wind. Iris rolled her eyes and snorted.

‘I was talking about the men at the creek. Thanks all the same.’ Iris pulled herself up reluctantly. ‘Well I’d best be getting ready. Those damn shells!’

Katya waved her off cheerfully. Iris dodged a big group of kids with red balloons tied to their wrists – schoolchildren out on an outing, she thought – and hurried across to the next field. Men were already filling up the mermaid tank with hoses and pumps, while Jonas circled the tank, checking the breathing equipment and emergency aids. The benches in front of the tank were filling up rapidly with children and families. Iris could hear shouts from the booth, where the man was urging people to ‘Step up, step up to see the show, one of a kind, not to be seen anywhere else in the world!’

‘Hey girly.’ Someone gripped her arm tightly and tugged.

‘Get off!’ she yelled, wrenching her arm back. She whirled around and brought her leg up. The man fell back quickly, stumbling over his own feet and landing on his back heavily. She watched in amazement as the man rolled over on to his face and began snoring loudly. By gods, he’s drunk silly! she thought.

Feeling slightly foolish, she ran off to the gate, leaving the sleeping man to a curious circle of bystanders who had heard her yell. Jonas was waiting for her at the tank, looking anxious and excited.

‘Hurry up!’ he called as she ran to the back to change. ‘We’re starting in five!’

Iris pulled the curtains close behind her in the makeshift tent and turned to pick up the costume from the shelf. Her hand froze in mid-air, despite the messages from her brain telling her that Jonas would be furious if she wasn’t ready on time.

The little man took off his hat to her and bowed deeply.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Langdon.’

Iris backed out of the tent and screamed.

Nano 7

2007-11-13T14:18:00.000+08:00

‘Art, I presume?’

Art stared up in surprise. It was the elderly man who had taken Mr. Bunbury’s brother-in-law off to the inn last week.

‘Yes,’ he said, standing up and brushing the dirt off his knees.

‘Good morning, boy,’ the man said, holding out a hand. ‘I’m Mr. Sept.’

‘Er, good morning.’ He shook the hand uncertainly, feeling the hard dry skin beneath his own callused fingers.

‘Are your parents in?’

‘Er – they’re not – well – I think they’re in the house. I’ll take you there.’

‘Good good. I’ve something to speak to them, urgent business it is.’

‘Are you from the Big City, Mr. Sept?’ Art said, leading the man down the path and up to the house. Laurel, who had been sitting on the steps teasing the cat, leapt up when she saw them and ran into the house.

‘No, no,’ Mr. Sept chuckled. ‘Never been there in my life. I’ve heard tales of it though, many tales.’

‘So have I.’ Art stepped into the cool main room, where Ellen was teaching the girls needlework. She looked up when he entered with Mr. Sept, and stood up with a welcoming smile.

Laurel grabbed Art’s hand on her way out, and dragged him outside. He followed, though he was as curious as she was to know Mr. Sept’s business here.

‘Who’s the man?’ she hissed, as they glanced through the window. Ellen handed a cup of tea to the man, who politely declined. Art took note of the man’s reluctance to take off his coat, which reached to his ankles.

‘I don’t know!’ he hissed back. Laurel tugged painfully on his sleeve, demanding an answer. ‘I told you, I don’t know!’

‘Should we fetch my father?’ she asked, waving to the fields. Mr. Lefroy had been out there since morning, and he had told them earlier that he would be meeting a few friends for lunch. Art shaded his eyes and tried to spot any moving figure in the fields. There was none.

‘Where is he?’

‘Mr. Wash’s field. I know where there’s a shortcut through to his house.’ Laurel glanced back at the house. Ellen was now deep in conversation with Mr. Sept. ‘Do you want me to go?’

‘All right then. Go, quickly.’

Laurel sprinted off immediately, despite the heat of the afternoon. Art shuffled into the house, catching bits of the conversation as he pretended to busy himself with sweeping the floor. Vivien watched him, wide-eyed and surprised. She was too shy to say anything though, and Art swept as close as he dared to Ellen and the man. Both did not notice or pay any attention to him.

‘Yes, I’m sure my husband can help you out in that area,’ Ellen said thoughtfully. ‘I shall have to ask him first, naturally, but I’m sure something can be arranged.’

‘You’re very kind, Mrs. Lefroy,’ Mr. Sept said, nodding. ‘I’m sure he will not mind too. I thank you for your time, and now, I shall be leaving.’

‘Oh, you can stay till lunch at least!’ Ellen pressed. ‘It won’t be too much trouble.’

‘I’d better be going, Mrs. Lefroy,’ Mr. Sept said, rising from his seat. ‘Good afternoon.’ His bright eyes turned to look at Art intently. ‘Good afternoon to you, boy.’

‘Same to you, sir,’ he said, leaning on the broom. He heard the sound of running feet from outside, and Mr. Lefroy’s voice calling for Laurel to wait for him.

‘I don’t think he means any harm,’ Art said much later in the evening.

Laurel sighed and closed her eyes. They were both in Mr. Wash’s pasture field, where he turned his sheep to graze. Most of the sheep had been taken to town that day for the middlemen to inspect and determine their price. She appeared not to have heard him.

‘I think so, anyway,’ Art insisted. ‘I know you think that he’s got something to hide, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hide anything. I don’t quite know what you have against him,’ he laughed.

‘You’ll thank me when he takes you away,’ Laurel said sleepily. ‘I can tell.’

‘His eyes are odd though, aren’t they?’ Art pulled up blades of grass where the sheep had not nibbled to the roots. He shredded them and tossed the bits onto Laurel’s face. She merely rolled over and sighed again.

‘I don’t mind his eyes,’ she said. ‘But let me sleep!’

Art – in a good mood today – offered to carry her on his back to the house. She agreed.

***

‘I knew it!’

Iris struggled to open her eyes in the bright light. Surely it couldn’t be morning already – she scrambled up in bed hurriedly, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

‘Katya!’ she screamed.

The elder girl was standing beside her bed, dramatically pointing an accusing finger in her face. Iris swung a leg over the edge, attempting to kick her in the shin. Katya side-stepped the kick nimbly and laughed.

‘I knew it!’ she crowed. ‘Aha! Caught you both red-handed!’

‘Caught us both what?’ Iris dropped onto the bed again and shut her eyes. There was a headache developing in there somewhere. That bitch Katya.

‘You and Jonas! In the same room! At night!’

Iris kept her eyes shut but answered all the same. ‘We were helping to watch the younger ones last night, me and Jonas. We must have dozed off during the night.’

‘In the same room?’ Katya said smugly. ‘Yeah right. Do you think I’m stupid or what?’

‘I think you are.’ Iris pulled herself up and sighed. ‘Look, if you don’t believe us, go and ask both our mothers and the other mothers. They’ll tell you. Go on.’

Katya wasn’t stupid, despite her numbskull behavior. She plopped down at the foot of the bed and giggled. Iris sat up and yawned.

‘You could have watched the children on your own, all the same,’ the girl pointed out, plaiting her long red hair idly. ‘You’ve done it so many times before.’

‘Yeah, I could, but I saw some people yesterday, by the creek.’ Iris hugged a pillow and thought over the events in the last afternoon. ‘I saw someone between the trees while we were down with the kids in the water. I don’t think anyone did. And then I sent Jonas to have a look – or pretend that he had to gather sticks for the kids – and he said that he heard someone, or several people, in the wood. I asked my dad, and he agreed that it would be better if both of us watched over the kids last night, since the others were so busy with the repairs and the meeting.’ Iris glanced at the other girl, who had stretched herself out on the bed. ‘Where were you anyway? We tried looking for you, but no one seemed to have seen where you went.’

‘I was busy,’ Katya said shortly.

‘With a young man from the town.’ Iris began picking at stray threads in the blanket nonchalantly. ‘It’s amazing what you can see when you really know where to look.’

‘I was just talking to him!’ Katya swept back her hair angrily, her cheeks flushing. ‘You can’t say that I did anything wrong!’

‘Yes, but, you see, I thought that there was a rule against that,’ Iris said sweetly. ‘Do you remember? Something about not meeting up with strange young men after dark, because we have a reputation to keep, and it wouldn’t be good for the youth to run around without adult supervision in the dark.’

‘Oh shut it.’

Iris beamed, knowing she had won. It was one up to her against Katya then. The red-haired witch was forced to eat her own words, ha!

‘What about the people among the trees?’ Katya said after some silence. ‘You were saying you saw some people?’

‘I definitely saw one.’ Iris pummeled the pillow thoughtfully. ‘I thought I saw movement behind the first man though, but I wasn’t sure. Jonas didn’t find anything suspicious in the wood, but there was a gentleman in there, out on a stroll.’ Iris turned to look at Katya, who waited for her to continue. ‘The thing is, as Jonas cleverly noted when he first told me this, no gentleman would come all the way down to the creek for a nice morning walk. It would be too far from the town, besides, he wasn’t with his friend or dog or anything. And that’s unusual.’

‘Maybe he lost his way,’ Katya suggested.

‘I don’t think so. He didn’t ask for any directions from Jonas.’

‘Maybe he wasn’t even a gentleman in the first place. We’ve met people like this before.’

‘I’ve thought of that too,’ Iris said slowly, ‘but why? Why go to that place? There’s nothing in there, but just dead leaves and wood. Even the trees are stunted and the kids don’t go there because it’s so dark and muddy.’

‘Ha, another mystery for Iris Langdon!’ Katya exclaimed with a sweep of her arm. ‘We shall be waiting with bated breath for further development from the wondrous sleuth!’

Iris threw the pillow at her none too gently. ‘Shut up. I’ve got to think.’

Nano 6

2007-11-11T00:23:00.001+08:00

‘You can follow the road here, and then cut across this loopy bit where the river is, before turning left and taking a shortcut through these woods,’ Jonas said as he traced the route on the crudely drawn map with a pencil. Iris reached over and picked up the piece of crumpled paper.

‘Yeah, but are you sure that the river won’t be flooded now, what with the extra rain and everything?’ She held up the paper, but the sunlight was too weak for her to see anything special.

‘I dunno. Your dad thought it would be a good route,’ Jonas said, shrugging. He tucked the pencil behind an ear and lay down on the grass. ‘We’ve used this route quite a few times earlier this year. We’ll pass lots of small towns and villages, and business would be good in those places.’

‘I see.’ She handed back the paper and added, ‘But still – I’m worried about the river. It’s shallow there; people usually use that bit of the river as a crossing, but we’ve had warnings before that the river tends to flood over in that place.’

‘Do you think it’ll really flood over at this time?’ Jonas rolled over on his tummy and propped his chin on his ink-stained hands. ‘Right. I’ll talk to your dad then, and see what he thinks about this. I’ve got to hand in the reports anyway.’

‘And I’ve got to help out with the younger kids,’ Iris said, getting to her feet reluctantly. ‘I promised the other girls that I’d help with the training.’

She waved him off at the gate and crossed the field to the creek, where the older girls were teaching the younger ones the tricks and techniques of the various performances. Several small boys were already in the creek, vainly attempting to swim in spite of their wet clothes. Iris slid down the slope and splashed into the water, laughing.

Someone watched the children and girls from among the trees, from a small copse of thin saplings further along the slope where there was a good view of the creek and the people in the water. Iris thought she felt someone’s stare on the back on her neck, but she couldn’t see anyone nearby. She dismissed it without another thought.

‘That the girl?’ a man said, coming suddenly out of the shadows of the thicker trees deeper in the wood.

The other man, who had been the one watching the creek, merely grunted. He was frowning as he continued watching the children. A hand was buried in a large coat pocket, from which rustling papery sounds could be heard faintly.

‘Looks older than I expected,’ the second man said. He pulled a small folded square from his coat pocket and – as expected – unfolded it. It did not contain any writing or small lethal bits of metal. It did, however, contain some powder in various colors, covering a wide range from black to blue and the occasional bright green to white. The man pinched the powder between a thin finger and thumb and carefully inserted it between his lips. There was a muffled snort, and the sound of someone smacking his lips in satisfaction.

‘They said she was in her teens,’ the first man said. His voice was the sort that rumbled, possibly implying that he was the sort that preferred not to talk but to do…things. Something. Anything. Things which preferably did not involve talking.

‘You can’t trust them up there.’ The second man hastily wrapped up the powder before allowing himself to sneeze. ‘Like I said before, Skinny, those up there have no idea of the way things are done. Not that I mind, really, because they’re letting us run the show, technically.’

The first man shrugged and turned back to stare unblinkingly at the creek. His companion unfolded the paper and began enthusiastically pinching and sucking on the powder.

‘This is good,’ the second man said between sucking and licking his lips, ‘you should try some, Skinny.’

Skinny shrugged his thin shoulders and pointed in the direction of the creek. There was a short silence, broken only by the sounds of children’s laughter and the high clear voices of the girls.

There was a snap nearby. Leaves rustled among tree roots and sliding shadows; it was not the wind, because there was definitely none today.

The second man tapped Skinny’s shoulder urgently and jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating that someone was close enough in the vicinity to hear and see them. Skinny nodded and slunk deeper into the shadows, silent and watchful. The second man stood up, pocketing the paper of powder with utmost care, and pretended to stroll out of the wood, whistling cheerfully like any other gentleman out for a nice walk in the woods.