Nano 14

‘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

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

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

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.