“Lily wants you to make these into a cap for her. She says you’re to drop everything and have it ready by tonight,” said Dasras, tossing the flowers onto the ogress’s lap.
Narlayna’s gaze grew hard and cold. “She says that, does she?” she snarled. “Well, you tell her that I’ll get to it in my own sweet time! I have two dozen orders before hers, and everyone says theirs is important.”
Dasras looked horrified. “I’m not telling her that!”
The ogress sighed. “ ’Course you aren’t. Though it’s about time someone did. I’ll get to the cap when I can. Just tell her . . . Never mind. No need to tell her anything. She’ll get it when she gets it, that’s all.”
Dasras stomped away, his back rigid with anger, but Tamisin lingered behind. She felt as if she should apologize for Dasras’s rude behavior, and for the unthinking demands of the fairy, and for the way they both seemed to treat the ogress. But she didn’t know how to begin, so when Narlayna looked up and snapped, “What do you want?” Tamisin said, “I just wanted to say that you do lovely work,” and ran off.
Dasras was waiting for her on the path, looking as if he had something to say, but before Tamisin reached him, a tiny fairy flew down to whisper something in his ear and darted away again.
“I have to go,” Dasras told her, his eyes alight with excitement. “Oberon wants me to attend him. He often has me run errands for him or listen when he has a problem to work out. He knows that I can be discreet, unlike most of the fairies here. You’ll have to see Malcolm on your own now. Just follow that path and you’ll find him.”
Tamisin looked where Dasras had pointed and saw the beginning of a faint trail. She had just started toward the path when a flash of red darted past, drawing her gaze after it. It was a cardinal that disappeared into the briars with the barest shiver of leaves. When Tamisin turned around again, she took one step and stopped. The path Dasras had pointed out had ended abruptly.
“He must have meant a different one,” she said out loud, and looked about until she spotted another only a few yards on. This path was smoother than the first and easier on her bare feet. It was a meandering route that took her past a gnome carving a chunk of wood who glowered at her when she stopped to see what he was making. A little farther on, a pair of bird-goblin girls were sorting two huge baskets of seeds. They looked up at her approach and turned their backs on her when she smiled at them.
She soon came upon three nymphs standing up to their waists in a small pond scrubbing laundry. “Hello!” called the youngest as Tamisin paused to watch.
“Shh!” said an older nymph. “You’re not supposed to talk to them unless they talk to you.”
“Why?” asked the young nymph.
“Yes, why?” Tamisin asked.
The two older nymphs looked shocked, but the younger one seemed interested. “Because fairies don’t like talking to us if they don’t have to,” said the nymph whose hair was the darkest green.
“Why is that?” asked Tamisin. The younger nymph turned to her friends as if she, too, were waiting to hear their answer.
“I don’t know,” said one of the older nymphs.
The other shrugged, saying, “It’s always been that way.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” said Tamisin. “You can talk to me whenever you want.”
“I’d like that!” said the youngest nymph. Tilting her head to the side, she gave Tamisin an appraising look. “I’ve never seen you before. Why are you here? No one comes here unless they have a reason.”
“I’m on my way to see Malcolm the brownie. I’m going to ask him to make me some shoes.”
“Ooh, shoes!” said the youngest nymph. “I wish I could have some shoes.”
One of the other nymphs snorted with laughter. “What would you do with shoes? You never get out of the water!”
“You’re going in the wrong direction if you want to see Malcolm. The brownies live back that way,” said the oldest nymph, pointing at a right angle to Tamisin’s path. “Someone should have come with you to take you there. If you keep going on this path, you’ll end up in the Land of Forgetfulness and wander there forever.”
“Someone was with me, but he was called away. Is there anyone around who can take me to see Malcolm now?” asked Tamisin.
“I can help you,” said the youngest nymph. Dipping her hands into the water, she scooped some out and began to shape it into a ball. The water behaved sort of like snow, keeping its shape as the nymph hurled the ball in the direction of Malcolm’s home. The ball flew a few yards over the forest floor and stopped almost as if it were waiting.
“Follow the ball. It will take you all the way to Malcolm’s house, but you have to hurry,” said the nymph. “The water will start leaking soon, and then it will be gone before you know it.”
“Thank you!” said Tamisin. “You’ve been very helpful.”
All three nymphs grinned up at her. “You’re very welcome,” said one.
“Come back and visit us again,” said another.
The third just blew her a kiss and waved.
Tamisin was pleased to have a guide, but following the ball wasn’t going to be easy. Instead of taking a path, it was going straight through the forest, flying over tree stumps and across a wide gully. Tamisin glanced down at her bare feet, then back at the wild roses growing beside the path. “I am so not doing this,” she declared. Shrugging, she released her wings and stretched them behind her.
“Ooh!” she heard the youngest nymph say as Tamisin took to the air.
Following the ball was faster now, and she was glad she was using her wings when she saw the depth of the gully and the jagged rocks at the bottom. She enjoyed darting around trees and over brush that she normally wouldn’t have gone near, and in less than a minute the dripping ball had stopped in front of a squat little cottage with a door no higher than her knees.
Tamisin looked around as she landed, but there was no one there to ask if she had indeed reached the right place. When she bent down and rapped on the door with her knuckles, someone inside the house groaned. Loud footsteps tapped across the floor, then wood scraped on wood. Tamisin stepped back when the door swung open, revealing a little man dressed in shades of brown squinting up at her.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Are you Malcolm the brownie?”
The little man rolled his eyes. “Who else would I be, I’d like to know. Look at me,” he said, stepping out of the gloom of his house into the sunlight. Not only were his long-sleeved shirt and trousers brown but so were his fringed boots, his curly hair, his well-trimmed beard, and his deep-set eyes. Tamisin tried not to stare at the hair on the tips of his pointed ears.
“I guess you like the color brown,” said Tamisin.
“What? You think I’m called a brownie because I like brown? Does that mean I’d be called a greenie if I were wearing green? No, it does not! I meant look at my size, you big oaf!” he shouted, stamping his foot. “Brownies are little, like me! Oh, I give up. Go away and come back when you’ve grown a brain.”
The little man stomped back to his door and had one foot over the threshold when Tamisin asked, “If you won’t make me some shoes, could you at least recommend someone who can?”
The brownie stopped as if he’d been hit with a brick. “Did you say shoes?” he asked without turning around.
“I’m not used to going without them,” she said, and held up a bare foot. It was scraped and dirty, and her skin was pale from lack of sun, but at least she’d put on pretty pink nail polish a few days before.
The brownie turned around slowly. His mouth was quivering and he had a glazed look on his face. “Shoes,” he breathed and lowered his eyes to her still raised foot. “You want shoes for these?”
Tamisin nodded, then realized he wasn’t looking at her face. “That’s right. I was told that you could make them for me. That is, if you’re Malcolm the brownie.”
“Of course I’m Malcolm,” the brownie snapped, comin
g out of his daze. “Have a seat on that stump. I’ll be right back.”
Tamisin glanced behind her and found a stump beside the path. The top was smooth and the sides had been carved with pictures of shoes. There were pointy-toed shoes and curly-toed shoes, high-heeled shoes and flat-heeled shoes, shoes with ribbons and shoes with buckles, thigh-high boots and light, strappy sandals. Tamisin walked around the stump, examining it from all sides. “Wow!” she said, spotting some delicate slippers with vines for laces that wound up the wearer’s legs. “I want those, please!” she said as the little man came out of his house, carrying a basket nearly as big as himself.
“First things first!” he said, setting his basket beside the stump. “Sit down so I can measure your feet.” He waited as she took a seat on the stump, tilting his head from side to side as he studied her foot. Then he picked it up and rubbed the dirt off her heel. “Nice foot! Very nice, indeed. I like them big like this, although I’ve never seen a fairy with such big feet before. And you’ve obviously used them for walking. Most fairies would rather fly than walk, which is why their shoes last so long.”
“Do you make many shoes?” asked Tamisin.
“I used to,” the brownie said, sounding wistful. “Before I came here, my shoes were always in demand. I made shoes for every being with feet who wanted to look stylish, but I got so good that Oberon decided I should work only for his court.”
“But if they don’t have enough work to keep you busy . . .”
Malcolm snorted. “There are two sides to every coin. The fairies want the best shoes for themselves, and they want to keep other beings from having them. You’ll never meet a fairy who doesn’t think of himself first. They’re the most selfish creatures I’ve ever . . . Uh, sorry! I forgot for a moment that you’re a fairy. Your feet . . .”
“Don’t worry,” Tamisin said. “I’m not offended. And from what I’ve seen, you’re absolutely right.”
The brownie gave her an odd look before reaching into his basket. Taking out a knotted string, he held it up to her foot. When the string was too short, he reached into his basket for another that was three times as long. “That’s better,” he said, pulling the string taut from her toes to her heel. “Are you sure you don’t have ogre blood in you?”
“Not as far as I know,” Tamisin replied, watching as he wrote something on a leaf he’d taken from the basket.
“Huh,” he said, and sat back on his haunches. “I can make you the shoes you picked out, but are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a pair like mine?” He held up his own booted foot and waggled it at her, making the fringe flop back and forth.
“No, thanks,” Tamisin said, moving her feet out of his reach. “How long do you think it will take you to make them?”
“Not long,” he said.
“Tamisin!” a faint voice called.
Although Tamisin couldn’t see anyone, she recognized the voice as Dasras’s. If she took to the air, she could probably find him easily enough. She glanced at the brownie again, saying, “Do you have all the measurements you need?” When he nodded, she stood and spread her wings behind her. “In that case, I should go. Someone is looking for me. Thank you for the shoes.”
Malcolm frowned. “Your name is Tamisin? But isn’t that the name of . . . Oh, my! You’re the one who’s supposed to be Oberon’s daughter?” He looked at her foot again, and his frown deepened.
“That’s right,” Tamisin said. “How much will I owe you?”
“Owe me? Why, nothing. The fairies here never pay me for their shoes. It’s how I serve the fairy king. Why do you ask?”
“Where I come from, people pay a lot for shoes. Especially ones as nicely made as those,” she said, indicating his boots.
“Really?” he asked, his pointed ears pricking up with interest. “And where is that?”
“The human world,” she said, and took to the air as his eyes grew big and round.
Chapter 6
Jak stepped through the gate into the land of the fey and gazed up at the branches swaying high overhead, stealing a moment to enjoy the clean scent of the trees and the open air. He loved the human world, where no one made fun of him for being a halfling, and he could imagine himself spending the rest of his life there, but it was more crowded than the land of the fey and a whole lot dirtier. Not even the parks or undeveloped land in the human world smelled anything like this. With no cars or factories or masses of people gathered together, the land of the fey still smelled the way it always had and, he hoped, the way it always would.
The last time he’d been here he had been with Tamisin, and nothing had gone as planned. She had discovered that her mother was the fairy queen, and he had fallen in love with her, a half-fairy girl. For the first few months after they had returned to the human world, they had been in love and happy. Jak had never fallen out of love, but it seemed that once they argued, Tamisin no longer loved him. She had stopped speaking to him then, and no matter how often he called or tried to talk to her at school, she had refused to listen. Jak had missed her more with each day. Catching glimpses of her in the hallway had made going to school so painful that he had begun to think about returning to the land of the fey to live. Instead, she had gone there without him. Jak was worried not only for her safety but because he had no idea how she would react when she saw him.
He was headed downhill when he came across a trickling stream with water so clear that he could see silver-scaled fish darting among the rocks. Thirsty, he bent down and cupped his hands, scooping up water to drink. He was still bent over when he noticed that a reflection had appeared in the water beside his. Sunlight was glinting off the water just enough to make it hard to see, but then he realized what it was and his head snapped around. A leering wolf goblin stood behind him, only a few feet away. His hair was silver, but his face looked only a few years older than Jak’s.
“Look at what I found, boys!” the wolf goblin said over his shoulder. “A cat goblin! I haven’t chased a cat goblin in ages.”
Another young wolf goblin appeared from behind a massive trunk on the opposite side of the stream. His eyes seemed to glow golden even in the shadows of the trees. “None of us have. Not since before Wulfrin made a pact with the leader of the cat-goblin clan.”
“But that pact was dissolved when your leader made a treaty with Titania,” the silver-haired goblin told Jak. “And that means that you’re fair game again.”
Jak rose to his feet as a third wolf goblin padded up to him. The goblin’s nose twitched as he sniffed Jak, then raised his head to sniff the air. “He’s alone.”
The silver-haired goblin, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, reached out and prodded Jak with a claw-tipped finger. “Run, cat boy! Maybe you’ll even get away!”
“For a little while!” called the golden-eyed goblin as he took a step closer.
Even as Jak took off running, the pack leader shouted, “Give him a minute. It’s more fun if they have a head start!”
Jak ran. Wolf goblins weren’t known for treating their victims kindly, and the younger ones were rumored to be the worst. Jak was faster than most humans, and had learned long ago when to stand and fight and when to run. He might even have a chance at outrunning the wolf goblins if there weren’t so many of them. He’d seen only three, but he caught glimpses of others running through the trees on either side of him. Each time he tried to change direction, another one would jump out, forcing him back the way they obviously wanted him to go. When that happened, Jak tried to run faster, hoping to get ahead and pass them, but he never seemed to run fast enough. He thought about climbing a tree, but then he’d be trapped, and he didn’t have time to waste. He had to move quickly if he wanted to reach Tamisin before Titania started a war. Getting her daughter back might be the only thing that would keep the fairy queen from attacking.
A change in the air alerted Jak that the edge of the forest was near. He could feel a breeze now, carrying the scent of sun-warmed grass and wildflowers. The air was warmer
, too, and the trees weren’t quite as old or as tall. And then he found himself out in the open with the trees behind him and a sea of grass beginning only yards away.
The wolf goblins rushed to cut him off, but Jak plunged into the Sograssy Sea before they could close their circle. The goblins whined, milling around in confusion, surprised that he would dare to enter the tall grass. Jak had reached grass almost as high as his head when the leader of the wolf goblins gave a short bark and the pack dashed into the sea after him.
When Jak glanced back and saw that the goblins were still chasing him, his heart skipped a beat. Because of the lamias who lived in the Sograssy Sea, few other creatures dared to enter it, but Tamisin and Jak had befriended one of the lamias and no longer feared the seemingly endless sea of grass. Most goblins would give up rather than chase anything past the shore, but these goblins continued to thrash through the grass behind him.
Jak was tired of running, but the wolf goblins kept after him. Although his long, loping stride normally could carry him far, he couldn’t go on indefinitely. Soon he would need to stop, and to do that he was going to need help. “Lamia Lou!” he shouted as he forced his way through a thicker stand of grass. “Lamia Lou!” he shouted again as the sounds of the wolf goblins grew louder behind him.
Jak wondered where his friends were. The grass in front of him began to wave wildly, but instead of the face he hoped to see, a wolf goblin popped into sight. Jak staggered to a halt as another goblin appeared a few yards to his left.
I need to make noise, he thought as the wolf goblins formed a circle around him. He needed to be loud and he needed to sound bad, so Jak decided to sing. Most cat goblins have terrible singing voices, and Jak was no exception. The first song that popped into his head was a cat-goblin lullaby, the only song he remembered his mother singing to him when he was a kit. It was meant to be sung softly, but Jak opened his mouth wide and screamed it as loudly as he could.