‘Next the biscuit.’ Meteor pinched off a crumb.
‘Something cherished by leprechauns.’
Laz sprinkled a dash of Le MoCo.
‘Now, the comet dust,’ Meteor told me. ‘One grain.’
I brought out the vial. Opening it, I caught a whiff of fragrance, the same that I’d sniffed while standing on Earth. Light and darkness collided in my heart, rippling, rushing, turning. I felt as if I were flying at great speeds, seeing stars winking in and out, days and nights merging, fire flashing while ice formed.
I shook a speck into the crystal cup.
Meteor pointed to Andalonus. ‘You sing while I stir.’
Andalonus began the song of the pixies, and his singing voice sounded wonderful, as if the pixies had done something to sweeten it.
‘The soft edge of time,’ he sang.
‘is the beginning of the end,
and the end of the beginning
brings the infinite dawn.’
Using the silver spoon, Meteor mixed the ingredients into a beige paste that barely coated the very bottom of the cup. He stirred till Andalonus sang the final words.
‘The last step is to speak the spell.’ Meteor pulled a scroll from his genie robe. ‘It’s quite long, and it will have to be Leona or Zaria because it takes Level One Hundred.’
‘Let me. I can spare five hundred thousand radia.’ Leona drew her wand.
Meteor held the scroll so Leona and I could both see it. His penmanship was good, but it didn’t matter. There were far too many words – arcane words only an ancient scholar would understand. Things like omtept, deromi and lrgyslon.
‘I don’t recognize anything you’ve written! Do you know how to pronounce this gibberish?’ Leona asked Meteor after studying the spell.
‘Some of it, but not all.’
‘Then I can’t do it,’ Leona said. ‘I’d get it wrong.’
She looked at me, and so did everyone else.
‘You think I could do a Feynere spell for aevia ray?’ I asked.
Silence.
Meteor was the first to speak. ‘You’ve opened portals,’ he said. ‘You’ve put up a granite wall. You’ve created protections even gnomes cannot pass.’
Laz raised his eyebrows at that before adding his own comment. ‘You’ve thrown gremlins around like a pack of cards.’
And I created aevum derk.
Laz gave a raspy chuckle. ‘My bet’s on you, Zaria Tourmaline.’
I waited till I could feel a spark of strength. The others waited too. Not even Laz tried to hurry me. Finally I drew my amethyst wand and infused to Level 100, then tapped the edge of the crystal cup. ‘Become aevia ray.’
At first, the paste lay inert in the cup, looking like a smear someone had forgotten to clean. But as we watched, it began to transform. The colour turned from beige to ruby red. Red changed to citrine orange, then rapidly yellow, then green. Blue was there for an instant. Indigo. Violet.
Then the paste became a tiny heap of transparent powder.
‘It looks just as the spell described,’ Meteor whispered.
I expected Laz to snatch the cup as soon as he believed it held aevia ray, but he surprised me. He bowed from where he sat – bowed as if he meant it, the feather of his cap grazing the floor.
‘What shall I do with it?’ he asked Meteor respectfully.
‘Place it on your tongue.’
‘Shouldn’t you remove your cap?’ Leona sniped. ‘Won’t it interfere with the enchantment of the aevia ray?’
He grinned at her. ‘In a word, no. The cap protects me from spells that oppose me, spells I need protection from. Not aevia ray.’ He flipped open his watch. ‘In honour of this moment, I will allow you to view my level and colour.’ He showed us Level 45, full Yellow.
He picked up the teacup. After shaking the contents onto his blue tongue, he closed his eyes and waited.
I was next to him, so I saw the radia hand on his watch begin to move. It crept from Yellow into the first degree of Green.
I gasped, and the others craned to see. It was happening! We’d done it; we’d created aevia ray, a legendary substance from the ancient past.
Next, the radia hand on Laz’s watch jumped from Green to Blue and then Blue to Violet. At the halfway mark of Violet it stopped advancing, quivered, and stood still.
Laz’s eyes batted open. When he saw his watch he let out a whoop that woke Tumble.
‘Quick,’ I urged, pointing to the gremlin who was sitting up and rubbing his eyes. ‘Put everything away so he doesn’t spill anything.’
We scrambled to stow the ingredients as Tumble climbed down from his window seat and shuffled towards me. He crawled into my lap.
‘A sneaking smuggler has more radia than me,’ Leona blazed; ‘more than a real Violet fairy.’
Laz winked wickedly. ‘Do you still believe you should take the entire batch to Anshield? Remember, every one of you could be full Violet and have plenty left over for their majesties.’ He saluted Leona. ‘Small consolation, I know, my lovely – but if you’ll notice, it didn’t raise my level, only my reserves of magic. When it comes to levels, you’re still the most powerful fairy in the land.’ He showed his watch around again, and sure enough, the level had remained at 45.
I was very relieved that Laz would never be able to make himself invisible – which was a Level 50 spell. If he could, I’d have to be looking over my wings every minute. Bad enough that his cap let him traipse through my defences whenever it suited him. Oh yes, I was glad the aevia ray hadn’t raised Laz’s Level. But at the same time, I felt sad knowing that even if Andalonus took aevia ray, he’d never make a single journey to Earth.
Chapter Thirty-nine
THE UNKNOWN SURROUNDS US, EVEN AFTER PARTS OF IT BECOME KNOWN.
Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
TUMBLE BEGAN PLAYING with the cover on my watch, snapping it open and closed, reminding me to check my radia reserves.
‘Five hundred thousand radia to make aevia ray,’ I announced. ‘Just what Meteor said it would be.’
Laz lurched to his feet. ‘As promised, I must be going.’
‘That’s it?’ Leona hooted. ‘Without a word of thanks?’
‘I was under the impression you wanted me to leave.’
‘But Zaria just spent five hundred thousand radia – on you. You owe her!’
He flicked the rim of his cap. ‘Sometimes I gamble and win.’ He looked down at me. ‘Best of luck, Zaria Tourmaline, keeping your word to the trolls. And watch out for that Morganite creature.’
‘Wait, Laz.’ Something about what he said bothered me. ‘Why do you always call her that? What does it mean?’ His face was much too innocent. ‘You know something.’ I was suddenly sure of it.
He half closed his eyes and didn’t answer.
‘Laz? Who is she?’
‘A shame you didn’t ask earlier.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Our bargain expired yesterday evening.’
‘Bargain?’ I asked foolishly.
‘I agreed to answer any question for fifty radia – for three days.’
I smiled. ‘You’re five million radia richer! That should be worth a lot more answers.’
I waited for his return smile, but it didn’t come. ‘No, no, my fine fairy. You keep to your code; I keep to mine. And the code of a gambler says: just because you win big doesn’t mean you give anything away.’
I couldn’t believe it. I really could not. I glared at the smuggler, while Tumble squeaked softly in my lap. My friends’ faces showed speechless outrage.
‘So much for your grand offer of service,’ I said. Setting Tumble beside me, I rose to face Laz. ‘I’ll pay you. Who is Lily Morganite?’
He leaned towards me, his skinny nose almost poking my forehead. ‘That’s a million-radia question, and I won’t answer it for less.’
Leona was up, her wand out and infused.
‘Leona!’ I waved frantically at Laz’s cap.
She hovered, ragin
g, trying to pull the magic back out of her wand.
Meteor burst towards Laz, and so did Andalonus. They crashed, not into the smuggler but into each other, for Laz was no longer there.
‘Rotten trog!’ Leona fumed.
When the genies disentangled themselves, Andalonus bent and picked up the shiny foil packet of Le MoCo. ‘At least he left this behind.’
Meteor began pummelling the air where the smuggler had been. ‘You’re right, Zaria. That genie knows something about Lily Morganite. Something important.’
I nodded, furious that he’d swindled me again. ‘Do you know anything?’ I asked Meteor. ‘Anything you haven’t told us?’
He clutched his striped hair. ‘Only what everyone knows – that she became a member of the High Council decades ago, and then Forcier of Feyland ten years back. No children. No record of who her parents are or when she was born.’
I sank glumly into my mother’s nest. Tumble jumped up beside me to roll on the silky pillows. ‘Maybe we should use the aevia ray ourselves. Then, not only could we renew the durable spells and give radia to every fairy and genie, but we could force Laz to tell us what he knows.’
Meteor shook his head back and forth so hard it looked like it might fly off his neck. ‘What would the trolls do to you if you broke your word?’
What would they do? They’d proven they had no trouble overriding my magic. Did I have to be in their presence before they could invade my mind? What if they could control me no matter where I went? How would I live if I couldn’t do the simplest thing unless a troll first agreed?
Leona touched a wing tip to mine. ‘We can’t lose you to the trolls.’
Meteor nodded. ‘They might accept one small test, but it would be dangerous to take any for ourselves.’
‘We have to take the aevia ray to Anshield, Zaria,’ said Andalonus. ‘For your sake.’
‘For your sake,’ Tumble chirped.
I sighed. ‘Let’s make the full batch, then.’
Tumble returned to the window seat and began unpacking sacks of biscuits. Each taste brought on a loud, happy whistle from the little gremlin. But as we prepared to make more aevia ray, he went to sleep again.
The only difficult thing about creating the larger batch was being patient as Meteor insisted we measure drops and crumbs, grains and specks. When we finished, the comet dust was the only ingredient completely used up – there were quite a few biscuit crumbs, most of the packet of Le MoCo, and nearly a whole bottle of Nectara to spare.
The little crystal flask was almost full. Meteor had predicted that although we’d be creating at least ten thousand times more aevia ray than we did for the test batch, performing the spell would use the same amount of radia the second time. He was right.
I half expected Laz to appear in the doorway before I could seal the flask, but he didn’t. ‘No one and nothing but me can break or open this flask,’ I said. ‘No one and nothing can take this aevia ray without my agreement.’
For a while we just sat on the bright tiles, four friends united by exhaustion and elation. We had created something impossibly rare. We should be celebrating, singing from the rooftops, dancing in the air. Yet none of us showed any glee – we were all more ready to cry than to sing; more ready to sleep than to dance.
‘It’s so unfair,’ Leona grumbled. ‘Zaria, you risked your life and your magic for aevia ray. And the only one who benefits is that greedy smuggler!’
‘You risked a lot too,’ I said, looking from one to the next.
Meteor sighed. ‘Laz is gone, and we should go too.’ He rose from the floor.
I looked over at Tumble, sprawled peacefully among his biscuit crumbs, snoring noisily. I longed to curl up beside him and find my own dreams. ‘So how do we get to Anshield?’ I asked wearily.
‘I suppose I could transport to the sapphire gate.’ Meteor sounded equally weary. ‘My father told me exactly where it is.’
‘He told you?’ Andalonus asked
Meteor rubbed his forehead. ‘Odd for him to break the secrecy of the council, but after what happened with Lily, he made me repeat the directions back to him so I wouldn’t forget.’
An uneasy feeling crawled over my wings. Did Councillor Zircon expect to die? Why else would he reveal such a secret to his son?
But Leona was focused on Anshield. She raised her wand, its filigree flashing. ‘I can easily transport all of us. Tell me how to get there.’
We listened closely as Meteor described where we were headed. ‘Anshield Island is in the middle of Glendonite Lake. Between the shores of the lake and the sapphire gate there’s a wide stretch of white sand. The gate’s three wingspans wide and four high – and it’s the only way through the wall around the stronghold.’
‘The only way?’ Leona asked.
‘The wall’s enchanted so no one can fly over it or transport past it.’
‘Maybe I could,’ I said. ‘Transport inside the gate with a Feynere spell.’
‘No,’ Meteor answered hastily. ‘That would be as dangerous as transporting from world to world. You wouldn’t know where – or when – you’d land. The enchantments on that island change time itself, in ways I do not understand.’
‘We’ll go to the gate then,’ Leona declared.
I looked at Tumble again. What would happen to him if he wandered outside while we were gone? ‘What should we do with the gremlin?’
‘We can’t leave him behind,’ Leona said briskly, as if it was completely normal for her to care about a gremlin. ‘He’s hardly more than a baby.’
‘We could take him with us,’ Andalonus suggested. ‘He could ride in that human-made backpack.’
While Andalonus roused Tumble and helped him climb into the pack, I used Feynere magic to seal the leftover ingredients for aevia ray into a cupboard – the Nectara, the remains of the special biscuit, and Le MoCo.
The crystal flask I slid into the deepest pocket of my gown, then handed Tumble another biscuit.
‘Ready?’ Leona infused her wand to Level 20.
Andalonus strapped on the pack that held the gremlin. Tumble whistled excitedly as the four of us joined hands.
‘Transera nos,’ Leona said.
Chapter Forty
HUMANS ARE UNAWARE THAT THEY ARE DEPENDENT UPON FEY FOLK TO KEEP FROM BECOMING TOO DOWNCAST AND HARDENED.
THE HUMAN WORLD IS OVERBURDENED WITH A CERTAIN TYPE OF REALITY THAT HAS STRICT LAWS OF PHYSICS, HEAVY AND SOLID. THE FEY WORLD IS MORE EFFERVESCENT AND AIRY; ON TIRFEYNE THE LAWS OF PHYSICS ARE MORE YIELDING AND RESPONSIVE.
ENCOUNTERS WITH MAGIC (SO LONG AS THAT MAGIC IS NOT OF THE WICKED, MALICIOUS VARIETY) ARE BENEFICIAL TO HUMANS, ALLOWING THEM RELIEF FROM THE MORE PONDEROUS ASPECTS OF EXISTENCE.
Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
I BUMPED INTO someone, hard.
‘Oof!’ I huffed, and found myself nose-to-nose with none other than Magistria Lodestone, head of the High Council of Feyland.
A ruby of Oberon, the symbol of power she always wore, glinted at her throat. Beside her was Meteor’s father, Councillor Zircon. His own ruby of Oberon was set in a heavy bracelet on his wrist.
‘Zaria?’ The magistria’s obsidian eyes darted over my companions. ‘Leona Bloodstone? Meteor, and—? Oberon’s Crown, Andalonus Copper, what is that on your back?’ The hefty fairy recoiled at the sight of Tumble, who started squeaking.
I patted his head to calm him but he grabbed my hand and scrambled out of the pack. He slid to the ground and scurried off to huddle in the shadow of a wall – a wall of luminous blue ten wingspans high.
We had arrived at the royal stronghold.
Looking behind us, I saw a lakeshore and a swathe of sand, each grain shimmering so sharply that I had to shade my eyes. A dazzling mist crouched over the waters.
Anshield’s shores should have been a beautiful sight, something to charm my memory for years. It wasn’t. Already, I hoped to forget I had ever seen this island. Something was wrong, something besides the
painfully bright sand and mist. Was it because of the enchantments? Spells that altered time itself would create a peculiar feeling, wouldn’t they?
I turned back to the magistria and the councillor. If I had followed proper manners, I would have bowed to them. I didn’t, and neither did my friends. Perhaps that explained why Councillor Zircon gave us no greeting and frowned at his son, saying only, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We need to get in,’ Meteor said. ‘Why are you here?’
Zircon glanced at the magistria. ‘We have important messages for their majesties, of course,’ he answered, voice grim. ‘But what could you possibly—’
‘Then why are you outside the gate?’ Meteor interrupted.
‘The gate will not open,’ the magistria explained. ‘Our passwords have failed.’
Zircon shifted uneasily, one foot hugging the other. The movement drew my attention to his feet. And his boots.
Green boots, rather new. And suddenly I was back in the grove on Earth, huddled beneath the blue spruce, listening to Lily as she stole the aevum derk, watching the boots of the councillor who had spoken only in whispers.
‘You,’ I said, glaring at his boots.
When I lifted my eyes, everyone else was frowning. At me.
I pointed at Zircon. ‘He’s the one who was there. With Lily. With her. When she took the indigo bottle.’
‘Nonsense,’ Zircon answered, his feet burrowing into the sand.
I heard a sharp intake of breath from Meteor. ‘You worked with her?’ he asked his father.
‘Of course not.’ Zircon scowled.
The magistria grabbed her ruby pendant; against her stark white skin it appeared even redder than usual. ‘I myself asked Councillor Zircon to observe Lily Morganite’s movements,’ she said haughtily. ‘How did you know about Lily’s weapon, Zaria?’
‘Her weapon!’ I gasped. ‘Has she opened it?’
No answer.
Meteor was watching his father the way he had watched Laz, distrust drawn over his face like a mask.
‘Has she opened the bottle?’ I was almost screaming.
‘Not yet,’ Magistria Lodestone answered. ‘She will spare Feyland a while longer, but how—’