"Swindled?" I asked.
"Clearly the cloak was not as powerful as I was led to believe." His expression said, Or you would never have freed yourself.
My pride was a little stung, and I remembered that destroying the cloak had cost me a fortune in radia. But I had no wish to discuss troll magic with Laz, so I didn't deny what he'd said.
He took a drink, wiping his mouth with his hand. "What brings you here?"
"Curiosity," I said, hoping I sounded calm.
"Oh?"
"Do you know a spell for restoring lost memory?"
Eyeing me blearily, he took another drink. "What's it worth to you?"
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"Nothing. But it may be worth something to you,"
He snorted. "I'm not under a forgetting spell."
I drew my stylus. "I'm betting you are. Tell me the spell, so I can test my bet."
He blinked warily. "You believe I'm enchanted?"
"Definitely."
Laz seemed to lose some of his swagger. "If you want to throw away ten radia, I won't stop you."
"No, no, my fine genie," I said sarcastically. "That's not how it's done. First we decide on the stakes. If it turns out you're under a forgetting spell, I get to ask you two questions that you will truthfully answer."
He chuckled, but his eyes shifted back and forth. "Sorry. Can't agree."
"I paid you fifty thousand radia for nothing," I said. "You owe me."
"And these questions you want to ask would be worth fifty thousand?"
"To me." They would he worth a million.
"Hmm." He drank again and smacked his lips. "And if I'm not enchanted?"
"We'll call it even."
Laz didn't hesitate. "Deal." He strummed his fingers through his gray-blue hair. "The spell to recover lost memories is storen los moro. Level Thirty. You don't have to be near the subject."
I infused to Level 30 and pointed my wand at him. "Storen los moro."
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Laz's expression went from startled to enraged. He let loose a blast of frightening curses. He finished by calling Lily Morganite a wretched gremlin.
"You'll never collect that reward now," I said, keeping my voice light.
Calm again, Laz rubbed his chin against the edge of the cup. "Yes, I hear she's in disgrace, and those other councilors can also be counted on to go back on their word."
I took a deep breath. "You said sooner or later you hear about everything that happens in Feyland."
"True."
Now that the moment had come to ask my questions, my tongue felt dry. I swallowed. "What have you heard about Gilead and Cinna Tourmaline--and how they disappeared?"
He took a long drink, the cocoa gurgling in his throat until the cup was empty. Then he looked at me. "You should let bygones be bygones."
"You agreed to the stakes."
"Yes, but you cheated. You knew the outcome."
"I won the bet."
He glanced around as if afraid of being overheard. But we were alone. "There was a rumor," he said. "Unverified, you understand?"
"What rumor?"
"That your family was bound in glacier cloth."
My wings suddenly collapsed, and I fell forward. When Laz caught me by the shoulders, I allowed him to prop me up.
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He shook me a little. "Do you want some coffee? On the house," he said. "It might help."
Breathing deeply, I waited for my strength to come back. "Glacier cloth," I said. "My family could be frozen in time?"
He let go of me and stepped back. "That's my understanding of the effects, yes."
"They could be alive?" I felt a tiny spot of hope in the center of my chest.
"Could be."
"My family could be alive? All I have to do is find them?"
Laz cleared his throat. "If the rumor is true."
"Did the rumor say where they might be?"
He shook his head. "Nothing about that. And like I said, unverified."
"Who told you?"
"Traveling genie, years ago. Never saw him again. That's the whole story, Zaria--such as it is." He folded his arms.
"Thank you," I said, and spread my shaky wings. I wanted to be alone now--alone to nurture the small bright hope in my heart, alone to think about what to do next. "Maybe I'll see you again someday"
"Wait," he said, before I lifted off. "What was the second question?"
The stunning rumor about my family had driven it from my mind, but I remembered then. "Oh, yes. Do you know what gnomes love best?"
Laz clicked his tongue. "Gnomes, eh? That's easy, Zaria
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Tourmaline. What gnomes love best, what they want most, what they'll do almost anything to get--is respect."
I looked hard at him. "Respect? But if you know that's all it takes, why don't you have gangs of gnomes helping you?"
"Me?" He gave his coughing laugh. "I don't respect anyone."
He turned his back and glided into The Ugly Mug.
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CHAPTER SIXTY
MORE AND MORE ITEMS ARE BEING SMUGGLED ONTO tlrfeyne from earth. a few are justifiable--- for example, pens and paper. but most are mere
FRIPPERY AND HAVE NO PLACE IN FEYLAND. SUCH ITEMS INCLUDE A WIDE VARIETY OF PLASTICS, MOLDED INTO EVERYTHING FROM BUTTONS TO UMBRELLAS TO TOYS.
IN ADDITION, THE SMUGGLING OF CHOCOLATES AND coffees has increased a hundredfold. determined residents of feyland may have a choice of unhealthy confections and degenerate brews, all of which overstimulate fey physiology.
UNFORTUNATELY, THE BAN UPON LEPRECHAUN travel to earth has not been effective in halting the flow of smuggled items.
--Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
I flew in joyous turmoil high over the seedy side of Oberon City. My father, my mother, my brother--might be alive, might one day come home.
Would come home. Because I would look until I found
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them, and then I would free them. Somehow.
If the rumor was true.
It had to be true. Banburus Lazuli had heard about it. His sources might be shady, but I believed they were accurate.
I soared, picturing myself with my parents and brother. Alive was the word singing through my wings as I flew. Alive, alive, alive!
My plan? I would read my mother's spellbook at long last. Maybe it would contain clues about my family, clues that could lead me to where they were.
To go to Earth, I would have to be invisible. Although Lily Morganite had not shown herself, she was surely out there somewhere. She might be wearing a disguise. She could be in a viewing booth at this very moment, watching for my appearance on Earth.
I was just about to cast the invisibility spell, but I stopped. Somehow, the thought of hiding myself again seemed unbearable. I didn't want to do it anymore.
What could I do instead?
As I buzzed past a crumbling tower, it occurred to me that I could create a spell to keep the fey scopes from finding me. Then I wouldn't have to wonder if Lily Morganite--or anyone else--was watching me during my visits to Earth. I didn't know how many radia it would cost, but it couldn't be more expensive than repeated invisibility, every ten minutes, every time I went to Earth.
For I would go back to Earth. Many times. The law
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prohibiting journeys to the human world for underage fairies was a law I intended to keep on breaking.
Hovering in midair, I scanned the sky around me. Nothing and no one crossed my view, so I infused my wand halfway. I tapped my head and improvised a spell: "For the next month," I whispered, "I cannot be perceived by any magical means, no matter where I am."
The grove where I'd buried the spellbook was aglow with sunlight as I began scooping handfuls of dirt from under the blue spruce. Soon my mother's spellbook was in my hands. Dirt smudged the cover, but the book felt as light as ever.
Holding it in my lap, I sat leaning against the trunk of the tree, my wings comfortably folded
. First I planned to skim every page, and then go back and read all of it, word by word. Even if my unusual talents meant that I didn't need to memorize specific spells in the ancient language, reading the book would be a way to get closer to my mother.
I turned each page lovingly, admiring the careful, even script. The spells were perfectly organized, but occasionally there were sections of scribbled notes that made no sense.
Translation of transfers, I read. Invisible theft?
And on another page: J & G delve, unoccupied tower
There were many similar notes, all of them incomprehensible.
After the last spell, there were about ten more leaves left in the book. I turned the empty pages slowly and then
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stopped when I saw that one of them was full of writing. It was a letter, with my own name at the top. My wings began to quiver as I started reading.
My dearest Zaria,
If you are reading this, your father and I have not come home. This means you are under the care of our friend, Beryl Danburite, who is one of the few fairies we trust completely. It also means that it is likely that years have passed between the last time we saw each other and now. For all I know, you are a full grown fairy.
Then again, you have always been curious, and I think it is possible that you have found this book while you are still quite young, perhaps as young as fourteen.
Tears flooded my eyes, making it impossible to read. A letter from my mother! It had been in the book for five years. Had Beryl known it was there? Had she kept the spellbook hidden away, and then put it into the copper cupboard on the day I got my watch and wand? Had she known I would look for it when I turned fourteen?
I wiped my eyes and began reading again.
I am so sorry that you had to grow up without me. You are one of the great joys of my life, and it is a terrible hardship even to consider the possibility that you are reading these words. And yet, I must write them. If the worst happens, and we do not return, I cannot leave you without an explanation.
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Before he disappeared, your brother Jett believed he had found proof of vast smuggling rings operating between Earth and Tirfeyne. Humans crave our gold and jewels, and we crave their paper, their pens, their books, and other things.
On Earth, the smugglers are often unwitting participants, finding payment in diamonds and gold under their pillows--or not at all. Fey smugglers learn to be sly, and they help themselves to the goods they want when humans are not looking.
In itself, Jett's discovery is not surprising, for goods have flowed back and forth between Earth and Tirfeyne for centuries, though always on a limited basis and never with official approval. The High Council has always condemned smuggling, although in nearly every home in Feyland, at least one item from Earth may now be found.
We believe that unless the flow of goods is limited, the balance between worlds will be disrupted, a balance the Ancients urged us to keep. We do not know the cost of disrupting that balance; we suspect that it will be high.
What has made Jett's discovery so dangerous is that he found evidence that the smugglers in Feyland were paying certain Council members kickbacks in radia, for allowing unregistered portals to stay open so smuggling could continue unchecked.
To make matters worse, your father and I suspect that one of the councilors involved in smuggling may also be somehow diverting radia from the durable spells that need to be refreshed and hoarding that radia for herself. I am sorry to mention the possibility of such corruption within the High Council. And I dare not name those whom we suspect, for I do not wish any of this to harm you one day.
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Your father and I are going after Jett. He has been missing for three days, and we are very uneasy. We hope our mission will
be swiftly concluded, that we may return to you soon. If we are successful, I will destroy this letter. If we are not, then you are reading
it, and we are gone. Remember, my darling Zaria, that love does not disappear with time. My love, and your father's, and your brother's, will be with you always.
I stayed for several hours, rereading my mother's letter over and over. It didn't explain what Lily had held over Beryl; maybe my mother didn't know about that. But Beryl had spoken the truth when she called Lily diabolical.
Had Cinna and Gilead confronted Lily Morganite? Or had someone else told Lily they were on her trail?
She had taken her vengeance on my parents. Then she had ignored their small, forgettable daughter until she knew I possessed the power of a Violet.
Her radia reserves surpassed mine now. She was far more cunning than I. But I had something she didn't. I could improvise spells.
She must never know I could.
"I will overcome you," I said aloud. "Somehow, I will."
Wherever the quest took me, whatever it showed me--whether I went alone or with companions--I would overcome Lily Morganite and free Gilead, Cinna, and Jett Tourmaline. Leaning against the blue spruce tree in the grove on Earth, I vowed upon my family's honor.
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CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
TRUE FRIENDS GIVE NOT ONLY AFFECTION BUT ALSO understanding. long life means nothing with out the presence of such friendships and if a good friend is also an excellent scholar, so much the better.
--Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
The viewing station near the Malachite Towers was bustling. Each booth had a line, and the fey folk waiting jostled each other and traded insults freely. The mood seemed cheerful. Green streamers decked the walls, and collections of fey lights twinkled over the clean tiles.
Looking for Seth, I hovered behind a fairy who waited for a turn. It was none other than Shirelle, the grouch I'd seen during my first visit.
"Do you know what happened to Seth?" I asked her.
"Seth! Didn't you hear? Bashed on the head by a gnome!" She gestured around at the decorations. "Quite the celebration," she said caustically. "We finally got an infusion! And those highfalutin councilors had nothing to do with it. It was a donation. A Violet fairy flew in and fixed everything."
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I drifted back from her, ready to leave.
"Zaria Tourmaline," said a pleased voice nearby.
I whirled to see Seth beside me, a green bandage wrapping his head.
"Seth!" I squealed. "You're alive."
"What's a knock on the head to someone with a granite skull?" he said, chuckling. "And you look a bit better than the last time we met."
I had to persuade him not to make an announcement that I was in the station; he wanted to publicly thank me for my donation of radia. When he finally agreed to keep quiet, I led up to the reason for my visit.
"Do you suppose you could let me into a booth?"
A few minutes later, I was secure inside a viewing booth. Seth told me I could have as much time as I liked.
I didn't hurry as I adjusted the eyepiece and made my request. "Jett Tourmaline," I said.
Blank. And the scope stayed blank when I asked to see my father and mother.
I sighed. Stubborn hope had urged me to look, though I had been almost sure of the outcome. The councilors and Beryl would have looked in viewing scopes, of course, long ago when my family had taken their last journey.
"Well," I muttered, "I know two places I won't find them. Earth--unless they're underground. And the Iron Lands-- because magic doesn't work in the Iron Lands, and glacier
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cloth is magical." If only the scopes could be turned upon Feyland, I might learn more.
I sighed. I should leave the booth. There was nothing left to do here.
And yet, I felt a tug on my heart, as if a slender ribbon stretched between me and Earth. "It can't do any harm to look," I whispered.
The eyepiece fit snugly as I opened the lens. "Show me Samuel Seabolt," I said.
Instantly an image appeared, so clear I felt as if I hovered close beside the people shown in the scope.
Michael Seabolt rec
lined in a hospital bed, propped comfortably against pillows. His head was bandaged, and his arm was in a cast.
I would have liked to ask him what had happened to him while he was gone. I would never hear the full story, now, and yet I was happy just knowing that he had come back to his family. His eyes, alert and bright, were on them: a slender woman, a little girl with red braids, and a tall boy with gold-toned eyes.
Sam's hair was slightly rumpled, his smile eager. "Jenna made you a picture, Dad," he said.
Jenna held up a drawing. "For you, Daddy."
Michael Seabolt took the paper from her. "Thank you, sweetie."
She beamed. "It's a fairy."
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Their father examined the drawing solemnly. "Beautiful," he said.
"Her fairies always have purple wings," said Sam, lifting one of Jenna's braids.
I allowed myself a full ten minutes watching them. Sam reported that Jason's house had blown up in a mysterious explosion but no one was hurt. Jenna blithely announced that a fairy with purple eyes and wings had come to see her. Her parents smiled indulgently.
Studying Sam, I tried to find an absence in his eyes, something to tell me he missed me without knowing what he missed. But no shadows clouded his face. He looked at ease and healthy, talking with his father.
When the ten minutes were over, I lowered the lever on the scope. "Good-bye," I whispered.
When I left the viewing station, Meteor was outside, hovering patiently, his striped hair waving a little in the night breeze. I didn't ask him how he had known where I would be. As we rose into the velvet air, I was simply grateful to see his smile.
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Thank you, Zaria Tourmaline, for visiting me, introducing your friends, and letting me know about your travels.
Thank you to the people at Egmont USA, for all their work and kindness on behalf of this story. Regina Griffin and Nico Medina believed in Zaria s adventures while those adventures were still in the form of a raw manuscript. Editor Ruth Katcher provided deep insights and a gentle guiding hand. Sammy Yuen created the shining cover illustration. Mary Albi and Rob Guzman and their marvelous team brought the word of Zaria's world to Earth. And many more people behind the scenes did so much for the love of books in general and for this one in particular. Thank you all!