Reggie & Ryssa and the Summer Camp of Faery
By Bo Savino
Copyright 2006 by Bo Savino
License Notes.
Dedication
Special, heartfelt thoughts go to those members of my family who have shared all my fears, angst and frustrating days of writing both by encouragement and knowing when to stay out of the way.
Thanks to all of you for being there, being you, and allowing me to be me. May you never stop believing in the Magic of Faeries!
Table of Contents
Prologue: Something About Mary
Chapter 1: School’s Out
Chapter 2: An Unexpected Visitor
Chapter 3: Birthday Blues
Chapter 4: On the Road
Chapter 5: New Faery
Chapter 6: A Faery Tale
Chapter 7: The Heart of New Faery City
Chapter 8: Matchmaker
Chapter 9: Teammates
Chapter 10: Out of the Frying Pan
Chapter 11: Into the Fire
Chapter 12: Magic Theory
Chapter 13: Calling All Sprites
Chapter 14: The Black Knight
Chapter 15: Misery Loves Company
Chapter 16: Flight School
Chapter 17: Great Balls of Fire
Chapter 18: Dark Stormy Knight
Chapter 19: Twist and Shout
Chapter 20: The Hall of Futures
Chapter 21: Aurelius Cries Uncle
Chapter 22: A Whole New Game
Chapter 23: For the Birds
Chapter 24: Wilted Future
Chapter 25: The Promise of Magic
Chapter 26: Farewell to Faery
About the Author
Prologue: Something About Mary
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Mary Rutridge was a daft old woman. At least that’s what most of her co-workers thought. The employees at Silverwood Adoption Agency were all very conservative and professional, with the exception of Mary. And Mary was quite the exception.
Mary had been an employee of Silverwood Adoption Agency for as long as anyone could remember. No one was quite sure how old she was, but some actually joked that Mary had been there on the first day the Agency opened its doors. It was impossible, of course, since the Agency had been around for over one hundred and fifty years. No one had the nerve to speak to her. Other than to make occasional jokes when she wasn’t around, they rarely gave much thought to her at all.
The exception to this was when a really strange adoption case was brought to the Agency. It didn’t happen often, but in over one hundred and fifty years of handling the adoption details for thousands of children, it was bound to happen on occasion. When it did, Mary was the first person called to handle it. This was not only because she seemed to have an uncanny knack for resolving every oddity of any strange request that came through the Agency’s doors. It was mostly because when the employees of Silverwood’s Adoption Agency thought of strange, the first thing that came to mind was Mary.
So on the evening of October thirty-first, All Hallows’ Eve, when all manner of strangeness abounded through the land, it came as no surprise to Mary when she received a call to Mr. Smythe’s office.
“Umm…Mary?” Mr. Smythe’s voice came hesitantly over the speakerphone.
“Umm…yes, Mr. Smythe?” Mary was already sliding her feet into the square-toed orange shoes with the big floppy plastic pink flowers that were under the desk where she always left them once she entered her office. She knew there was only one reason that anyone in the Agency ever summoned her.
“Do you have a moment to come into my office?”
Mary smiled. Mr. Smythe was always so polite. Asking her a question like that. He was well aware that she had no outstanding or pending cases at the moment. Well, maybe the Murdock adoption. She frowned, but then brightened up. No, that should be resolved soon. The Silverwood Adoption Agency was the focus of Mary’s life. She spent long, careful hours working for the benefit of the odd cases she was handed, to insure the perfect placement for each and every one of the children assigned to her care. Mr. Smythe also worked long and late hours. She liked to think it was for all of the same reasons.
She cheerfully pushed the button to send her reply. “I’ll be right there, Mr. Smythe.”
Mary rolled the chair back from her desk and stood to her full height of five foot one inch, straightening the wrinkles from the baggy dress around her rather round figure. Thick, dark-framed, plastic glasses were perched on a nose that looked much like a cherry in size and shape, set in a plump, happy face. Examining her appearance in the old fashioned, stand-up dressing mirror that leaned precariously in the corner, Mary gave a little pinch to her cheeks to add color.
“Pretty as a peach,” she said to the reflection in the mirror, her blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
A mewling response from the top of her desk drew her attention, and she smiled down at a long haired, ginger-colored cat that was almost as round as she was.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Snickers.” She curtsied to the animal. Mary reached for Mr. Snickers with her short, plump fingers and pulled him to her chest, ruffling the fur on top of his head. “Come along now, Mr. Smythe is waiting. I suspect we have company.”
Company was just what Mary found after she navigated her way out from behind the piles of old books, knick knacks, and other oddities of her overly stuffed and cluttered office and walked through the many hallways that made up the offices of the Silverwood Adoption Agency. She stopped short for only one conspicuous moment when she entered the reception room of Mr. Smythe’s suite of offices. The breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened upon meeting the deep green eyes of the stranger sitting in the high backed chair across the desk from Mr. Smythe. From beneath the shadowed darkness of his hooded cloak, the eyes were all she could see.
For one single, brief instant, she saw the endlessness of time stretched out before her. Then the eyes retreated further into the darkness of the hood, away from Mary’s view. She shook the thought away and shuffled across the office to sit in a chair as far away from the stranger as possible, barely glancing at the large, blanketed basket on the floor next to his chair.
“Mary,” Mr. Smythe breathed a sigh of relief.
Mary looked at the middle-aged, well-dressed man behind the desk and smiled, but she kept a watch on the stranger out of the corner of her eye. Mr. Snickers sat with bored, feline patience on her lap while she hugged him to her chest. Even Mary wasn’t sure whether she was using him as a shield or trying to protect him. She held tight, regardless, until he made a noise sounding something like a strangled growl. Mary let loose of Mr. Snickers, and the portly, ginger cat jumped from her lap.
“Um…Mary?” Mr. Smythe’s hesitance was back. He looked unsure of himself at the moment, and she wasn’t used to Mr. Smythe being unsure of anything. The stranger was making him nervous. She knew from experience that he really didn’t have much of an imagination, being boxed into a daily world of suits and papers and rules and regulations. This case didn’t fit any of the rules he was used to applying to everyday situations. Perhaps he was imagining some hideous face hiding deep in the shadows of the dark hooded cloak that Death himself might have worn, if you believed in fairy tales. And this was All Hallows’ Eve. Mr. Smythe shook his head. She knew that he normally wouldn’t get this rattled. Then again, this was definitely not a normal situation.
Mary watched Mr. Smythe expectantly, but still hadn’t spoken. She wondered if that was making Mr. Smythe nervous. She was never nervous, or at least where it showed. She was always brisk and to the point with a winsome, motherly smile. Mr. Smythe appeared
hesitant in how to proceed. Mary was confident that he would do what he felt was best.
“Mary, this is Mr.—” Mr. Smythe looked to the stranger with confusion. “I’m sorry. I seem to have forgotten your name—?”
“I didn’t give it,” the stranger’s voice came softly from within the folds of the dark hood.
Mr. Smythe stared at the man, seemingly surprised. Then he shook his head again while he stood.
“Yes, well, um…Mary? This gentleman has two children, infants—twins—that need Agency placement. There are a few conditions he would like to set on the adoption—”
“Fosterage,” the stranger corrected.
Mary’s eyes strayed to the basket near the stranger’s feet. A slight movement caught her off guard, before she turned her attention back to the flustered man behind the desk.
“Er, well, yes, fosterage.” Mr. Smythe did not look at either of them. Instead, he gathered a few papers from his desk and crammed them into an already-full briefcase. He snapped the clasps on the case, leaving a few white mangled corners to stick out the sides.
“Well, Mary.” He cleared his throat. “I trust that you’ll attend to the details of the matter.” Mr. Smythe walked around to the front of his desk, avoiding the stranger, and headed to the door. “I have, um…someplace to be and I am already, er, late. Please lock up when you are finished?” He left the question to hang in the air, cutting it off with a final snap of the door as he closed it behind him.
Mary blinked in disbelief, her eyes quite owlish in the shock that washed over her from Mr. Smythe’s odd behavior. There had been previous incidents with other foster situations—that other set of twins, for instance, which had really turned Mr. Smythe’s world upside down for a while, but in her opinion it shouldn’t have—She snapped out of it, his words sinking in. Mr. Smythe trusted her to attend to the details. She would never begin to think about letting him down in that trust. Mary straightened and stood, absently brushing down the wrinkles of her dress while moving to sit in the position behind the desk vacated by Mr. Smythe. She pulled together some papers and picked up a pen, holding it ready.
“Very well, Mr.—” Mary gave him her best pointed, questioning look, becoming quite brisk and business-like. The stranger remained silent. Mary sighed with resignation and put down her pen. She made a big show of rearranging the papers on her desk, and then pushed back the chair to stand. “Very well, then. If you choose not to answer my questions, then please take the children and leave. I’m sorry the Silverwood Adoption Agency could not be of further assistance.”
“What—?”
“I thought I made myself perfectly clear. If you choose not to respond to my questions, our business together has reached a conclusion. I have a lot to attend to, so if you would be so kind as to show yourself out—”
“But—”
“Look.” Mary placed the palms of her hands face down on the desk and leaned as far forward as her round frame could go. “I don’t think you appreciate the way things are done around here. Here we have rules and laws that must be followed. What I do here is for the safety, protection, and well-being of the children and the families with whom they are placed. If that happens to extend to you, it is only an added bonus for your benefit, but it isn’t my primary concern.
“Now, if you had chosen to drop the children off on our doorstep, or any other doorstep for that matter, you might have been able to protect your anonymity.” Mary took a deep breath and continued. “However, you at least show some semblance of humanity,” her lips twisted on the word, “or perhaps a better phrase would be decency, by choosing to make sure the children are properly taken care of.”
The stranger’s shoulders slumped in resignation.
“Aurelius.” He pulled back the hood of the cloak. “Lord Aurelius Trenton Icewand Starborn.”
The face beneath was ageless, yet elderly. A long mane of white hair surrounding aristocratic features fell into the folds of the hood where it came to rest on his shoulders. His nose was perhaps a bit sharp, and when his brows came together in consternation as they did now, it gave him a fierce appearance. Mary might even have been put off by that fierceness if the gentle tiredness of his forest green eyes didn’t shine with wisdom and kindness. It was obvious, at least to her, that those qualities were a big part of who he was.
Mary was taken back for a moment but collected herself quickly. She hadn’t expected that he would answer. With a nod, she pulled the chair closer to the desk and sat back down. The papers were placed again in front of her and she started to write.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mary worked through the task of putting his name to paper. “It’s not as though I were asking your True Name for the records.”
“What—? Then you know—you’ve had dealings with Faery before.”
“Mmm,” Mary gave a noncommittal answer while she finished writing his name. She looked up at him. “Suffice it to say that I’ve had enough experience with your kind to know how to deal with you. Now, the children—?”
“Yes, of course. They are Faery as well.”
Mary’s smile was tight.
“I’m certain of it,” iciness crept into her voice. “After all, you don’t really care what happens to your Changelings, do you?”
“Changelings?” Aurelius angrily sputtered. He drew stiffly to his full height in the chair. “How dare you—” He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to gain control. “Madam, that is a practice of the Unseelie Court, I assure you. Furthermore—”
“Yes, yes.” Her impatient tone brushed his words away. “I’m sure. But I wasn’t inquiring as to the nature of the children, I was asking for their names.”
“Oh—of course. My apologies.”
“Accepted, but unnecessary.” Mary turned her attention back to the papers. “Now—their names?”
“Reginald Aurelius Starborn and Maryssa Delzia Starborn.”
The rest of the information exchange passed smoothly and without incident. When she had finished entering the last of the Agency’s required information into the allotted spaces on the stack of papers in front of her, Mary put aside her pen and stood again.
“May I see the children now?”
Aurelius nodded and she came around the desk to where the tightly woven basket of stripped vines she noticed earlier lay hidden in the shadows next to his chair. Mary gave a nod of personal confirmation when she noticed Mr. Snickers lying happily at the foot of the basket, his purrs of contentment a low rumble. With surprising ease, considering her bulky form, she crouched to take a look at the two infants lying in peaceful slumber, wrapped in a soft blanket of multi-colored brilliance.
“They’re beautiful.” Mary took in their delicate features with a feeling of grandmotherly contentment. Mary’s care for the children she worked to place was genuine. It was, in part, what made her so good at her job. She noticed marks on the twins, almost like moles, star-shaped and dark. The boy had a little star-mole just to the side of his right eye, while the girl had a matching star-mole just to the left of her tiny mouth. “They truly are star born, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are.” A trace of emotion made his voice slightly husky. When Mary went to reach for the basket, Aurelius gently grabbed her wrist. “There is still the matter of the conditions for their placement.”
Mary met his eyes with understanding, bringing the brisk business expression back to her face. She rose and went back behind Mr. Smythe’s desk. It was Aurelius who produced papers this time, a scroll that he unrolled in front of her. He snapped his fingers and a quill and inkwell appeared next to the paper, the pen poised and ready to write. Mary eyed the man from Faery with arched eyebrows, showing she wasn’t impressed with his little magic display.
“Very well, then.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Here are the conditions that need to be taken into consideration for placement.”
“I will have some conditions as well—for the protection of the placement.”
&nb
sp; “I expected as much from you, madam.” Aurelius nodded stiffly.
As he detailed his conditions and Mary countered with hers, the pen started writing of its own accord, borne by the magic guiding it to record their agreements. It paused in mid-air each time the two argued the fine points of what would be required. They continued long into the morning hours of All Hallows’ Eve while the children slept, peacefully unaware of the decisions being made regarding their future.