‘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
‘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?’
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