“All of this mess…there’s only one answer that makes sense,” Trix said to Wednesday.
Wednesday nodded. “Aunt Sorrow.”
“Sorrow. Sister. Sadness.” Joy’s words turned into a little tune as Lizinia herded her back to her room.
“Sister Sorrow, Sister Sadness,
No tomorrow ends the madness.
Greatest of seven, first at the gate,
Oldest by birth and cursedest by fate.”
“‘Cursedest?’” asked Trix.
Wednesday shrugged. The gesture was so very unlike Wednesday that Trix had to suppress a snort of laughter.
There were seven Mouton sisters: Sorrow, Joy, Teresa, Tesera, Snow White, Rose Red, and Mama. Sorrow was Joy’s twin—just as powerful and twice as mischievous. Aunt Joy had spent most of her life cleaning up Sorrow’s messes.
Of all the Woodcutter siblings, Sorrow had caused Wednesday the most pain. To balance the scales, Wednesday had helped Joy magically imprison the soul of Sorrow’s lover, the evil King Hargath, before he and Sorrow could do even more damage.
“Sorrow is stealing her sisters’ powers,” Trix said “She has all of them but Rose Red now. And Joy.”
Wednesday gasped. “That means…”
“She has Mama’s power. Now everything Sorrow says will come true.”
“That’s how she bound the fey magic,” said Wednesday. “It has to be. I’m not sure even the gods have that much power. And even if they did…”
“But where did she bind the magic?” asked Trix. “How are we supposed to look for it with the Blood Court and who knows how many wild animals roaming the halls? And how will we know when we find it?”
“You’ll know,” Wednesday said with complete confidence.
“Fantastic,” said the leprechaun behind the curtain.
Lizinia exited Joy’s bedroom and closed the door quietly. “She sang herself to sleep. What did I miss?”
“My terrible aunt has stolen even more terrible powers, and she’s trapped the fey magic somewhere we’ll never find it.” Trix clung to hope as despair swept over him. What would Aunt Joy say at a time like this? Family is forever, his wise aunt would say. Family will break the world and family will fix it, on and on until the end of time.
“Fate wouldn’t have wanted the world torn apart by magic,” said Lizinia. “I wager it’s still here somewhere, under the Hill. We just have to find it.”
Wednesday grinned at the golden girl’s optimism. “She reminds me of Sunday.”
“Trix often compares me to his sisters, and I always take it as a compliment,” Lizinia said with a smile. “Besides, Vick will help us out.”
“I will do no such thing,” said the curtain. There was a rustle followed by the stomping of feet, and Vick came tearing back into the room with Trebald hot on his heels. “Bite me again, rat, and I’ll have you for dinner!”
“No!” cried Wednesday. “No eating anything while you’re here!”
Trebald stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” said Wednesday. “With everything going on I didn’t think to mention it until now.”
Trix’s hand drifted to his stomach. Those persimmons suddenly felt very small and very long ago. Trix had rushed them along so fast that he hadn’t even considered replenishing their packs. He thanked the gods for Vick’s generosity that morning, whatever the leprechaun’s true motives.
“Anything?” Lizinia motioned to a bowl on a side table. “Those berries look fine from here.”
“You’re welcome to try them,” said Vick.
“Fairy fare is poisonous to humans and animals,” said Wednesday. “Fey magic is the only thing that makes it palatable. Before this Faerie Queen’s reign, anyone who ate the food under the Hill was bound to remain here forever.”
Trebald spat. “I bit the little man earlier, yes, yes. Does that count?” The brownie began to tremble, which meant he was nervous, which meant he’d be hungry. Lizinia scooped up the brownie and tried to console him as well as she could.
Vick didn’t need translation. “Do I look like fairy food to you, rat?”
“Enough, you two,” said Lizinia. “We have some magic to find, and Vick’s going to help us find it.”
The leprechaun crossed his arms. “We might as well be looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Trix had been forced to do that once, after he’d “lost” his sister Friday’s needle so that she’d stop mending laundry and play with him. The fact that the needle was magic had not made the finding of it any easier.
“Look for an object that stands out,” Wednesday clarified. “Something special, like your dagger”—she pointed to Trix—“or…you,” she pointed to Lizinia. “The obvious thing would be a vessel of some sort.”
This Wednesday was so serious and straight to the point, it kept throwing Trix off guard. Wednesday-before would have long since fluttered off to chase butterflies in the dark. “How do you know all this?”
Vick narrowed his eyes at Wednesday. “Are you sure you don’t know where the fey magic is?”
“I wish I did,” said Wednesday. “I only know it has to be a vessel because that’s how Aunt Joy and I bound the essence of King Hargath. It was part of my training.”
“What vessel did you use for that spell?” asked Lizinia.
“A crystal ball on one of the Faerie Queen’s scepters.”
“I would start there, yes?” said Trebald. “With the rest of her scepters. Yes, yes.”
Trix’s patience was wearing thin. “How about we start by finding the Faerie Queen?”
The leprechaun still looked dubious. “We still have to trek through an entire Hill full of vast caverns and untold dangers. You may be able to charm the animals, wonderboy, but you don’t know what horrible fate awaits you out there. You thought the Wood was bad? Ha! You have no idea!”
“That’s why we have you,” said Lizinia.
Trix stared down at the leprechaun. “If you were going to steal a magical item from the Faerie Queen, where would you go first?”
“The catacombs,” the leprechaun said all too quickly, and then pursed his lips.
Trix straightened, proud of himself for finally catching Vick in the act of withholding information. “The catacombs it is, then.”
“But what if the Blood Court finds us again?” asked Lizinia.
“The Blood Court!” Wednesday cried out. “That’s how you can search for the magic without being noticed. We’ll dress you like the Blood Court!”
Trix wasn’t sure who Wednesday meant by “we,” but the idea was crazy enough to have come from Wednesday-before, so Trix was intrigued.
“Trix, you and the leprechaun—”
“I have a name,” said Vick.
“—can borrow something of Uncle Bear’s. It will all be too big for you of course, but…” Wednesday’s voice trailed off. She looked Trix over from head to toe, as if seeing him for the first time. “You’ve grown.”
Trix straightened his shoulders. The last time he’d seen Wednesday, he’d been a scrawny slip of a fey boy. Now he was a young man with a cat’s curse. “You noticed.”
Wednesday tapped her chin. “Mmm. It suits you. Now, your friend here is more of a challenge.”
“Lizinia,” said Lizinia.
“Lizinia,” Wednesday repeated. “I won’t remember that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” said Lizinia. “I forgive you in advance.”
“That means more to me that you will ever know,” said Wednesday. “Lizinia, what do you have in your packs?”
“Not much,” she said.
“Definitely not clothes,” said Trix.
“Let me see,” said Wednesday.
Obligingly, Trix dumped his pack onto the table. They had flint, a bit of twine, a bunch of clean rags, a sewing kit, fish hooks, and the green fairy stone Saturday had given him. Lizinia pulled the matching pink stone out of her pocket and added it to the collection.
“A-ha!” Wednesday
ran her finger over the fairy stones. She picked up the pink one and turned to Lizinia. “Give me your hand.”
Trebald scurried up Lizinia’s arm, freeing her hand up so that she could slip it into Wednesday’s. Wednesday turned her face to the heavens with her eyes closed, a stance with which Trix was all to familiar.
“There’s no fey magic,” Trix reminded her. “Why bother attempting a spell? You’ve already said you failed before.”
Wednesday cracked one eye open and peeked down at her brother. “I let you try something with Bear. Now hush. It’s my turn.”
“Yes, Mama,” Trix teased.
Wednesday ignored him and closed her eyes again. “Lizinia, who turned you into gold?”
“The cats,” said Lizinia. Her eyes were not closed. “One cat in particular, named Papa Gatto. He was a godfather of sorts.”
“Still is,” muttered Trix.
“I said hush,” scolded Wednesday. “Cat magic? Hmm.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Might be just strange enough to work.”
“But I don’t have any magic,” said Lizinia. “I’m not a cat. I’m just—”
“—a vessel,” finished Wednesday. “Through you, I can theoretically amplify whatever non-fey magic is buried inside me.”
“Theoretically?” asked Vick.
“Since your fairy stone was magical to begin with, I should only need a very little to change it into…aha!” In the blink of an eye, the fairy stone had transformed into a ballgown. An enormous, full-skirted, gossamer and silk, glimmering pink ballgown spilled out of Wednesday’s free hand.
Lizinia gasped. “Is that for me?” she said dreamily.
“That’s the idea,” said Wednesday.
“But I can’t take off my clothes,” said Lizinia.
“We’ll just slip it right over what you have on,” said Wednesday. “The gold will complement it nicely. Now, come on. I’ll help you in here while the men get dressed.”
“Help me?” Lizinia tilted her head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve needed to change clothes, but I do remember that I never had anyone help me do anything.”
“Not straighten your dress or comb your hair? Nothing?” Wednesday was flabbergasted. “Didn’t you have a mother? Or sisters?”
“One of each,” said the golden girl. “But I never had kindness to go with them.”
Wednesday gave Lizinia a hug. “Well, you do today. Come on.”
Trix loved his mad sister all over again, and not just for the ridiculous amount of magic she shouldn’t have been able to do. He dragged Vick into Uncle Bear’s bedchamber—the room was decorated in rich reds and golds, with a four-poster bed almost large enough to accommodate his uncle’s pure beast form.
“It feels strange rummaging through someone else’s clothes,” said Trix. “Even if he is my uncle.”
Vick had no such compunction. Within moments the leprechaun had opened all the drawers and tossed most of the contents on the ground. Trix collected a clean shirt and trousers. Trix had grown, but Uncle Bear’s shirt was still too big for him; the sleeves covered most of his hands and the hem fell to mid-thigh. Vick helped him shorten the sleeves with the golden dagger, and then Trix used the dagger to cut Vick a tunic from one of Uncle Bear’s fancy pillow cases.
Trix pinned on a few medals and examined himself in the looking glass. The boots he wore were only slightly scuffed, his chin had only the faintest shadow of stubble, and his eyes were far too clear. He looked less like a member of the Blood Court and more like an imposter trying to pass as a member of the Blood Court. “At least I’m still covered in dirt and ash and slime and sweat and who knows what else.”
“All the better for your disguise,” said Vick. “It’s not like the Blood Court is frequenting the baths themselves.”
A bath. Considering all the times he’d almost drowned recently he never thought he’d miss bathing again, but a bath suddenly seemed like the most decadent thing in the world. A bath and Mama’s potato-leek stew. His mouth began to water. He needed a distraction before he gulped down those tempting berries in the foyer.
“I’d like to take Uncle Bear with us,” Trix said to Vick.
“No way,” said the leprechaun. “You can have me, or that infernal beast, but not both.”
“He hasn’t harmed you, and he won’t. Lizinia and I will make sure of that.”
“Forgive me if I don’t trust you,” said Vick.
Trix didn’t trust Vick either, but he didn’t feel it wise to point that out. “My hope is that the closer we get to the fey magic, even if it’s trapped, the better we’ll be able to communicate. Which would solve two problems: helping us find the fey magic itself, and helping us figure out exactly what’s going on.”
Vick snorted. “Then you don’t need me.”
“My hope is that it will work. If all my hopes came true, none of this would have ever happened. Please, Vick. Please help me find the Faerie Queen.” Trix tried to think of what else he could say to convince the leprechaun. “I will make sure that you’re adequately compensated for your time and trouble.”
“Fine,” Vick said after a long pause. “But you better keep that overgrown snowball and that bite-happy rat away from me.”
“I promise,” said Trix. Just as they stepped back over the threshold in the entranceway, the opposite door opened and Lizinia emerged.
Wednesday had worked wonders. Lizinia’s golden hair was pinned up into a formal coif with strands of red ribbon and rose petals. The creamy pink silk was gathered into loops that draped down her arms from her golden shoulders and across her bodice. Enormous layers of skirt fell to the floor in a blush waterfall covering her functional golden work skirt completely. She caught Trix’s appreciative eye and smiled, which seemed to make her whole body glow. She was perfect.
It would never do.
Trix crossed the room in a few short strides, scooping up a handful of berries from the side table in one hand, and scooping up Lizinia with the other. While she was still confused about his intentions, he kissed her…and smashed his handful of berries into the bodice of her pristine pink dress.
With a squeal, Lizinia twisted out of Trix’s embrace and pulled his hair, but the voluminous skirt tripped her up and she pitched to the floor. Trix caught her before she hit the flagstones, pulling her back to her feet and tearing a sleeve of the dress in the process. The thin pink fabric split easily, revealing the gold beneath, and the small dark smudge where the spriggan had touched her.
“Trix Woodcutter! That’s the first pretty dress I’ve had in a million years, and you had to go ruin it.” Lizinia secured the last few berries in the bowl. “But two can play at this game.” She returned fire with one hand and used the other to tear his sleeve.
“I’ll protect you, little brother,” Wednesday cried. She picked up a stray bit of ammunition on the floor and threw it…smack between Vick’s eyes.
Berry juice dripped down the leprechaun’s nose. “You’ll pay for that, fey witch!”
For a few blissful moments, the room was filled with joyful screams and the tart fragrance of inedible fey berries. Trebald joined in as well, scurrying around their feet, trying to trip them, and sometimes succeeding. When the bowl was empty, Trix resisted the urge to lick his fingers, wiping the remnants on his shirt instead before he helped Lizinia up off the floor.
Their clothes were ripped and covered in red stains. His hair was even more mussed and matted, Lizinia’s artfully arranged locks had been mostly undone. It was tough to say who was a worse disaster.
Wednesday clapped her hands together. “You look perfect!”
Trix bowed.
Lizinia fluffed her tattered gown. “I feel better about this disguise already.”
Vick pulled at his tunic. “Speak for yourself.”
Trix bent an arm for Lizinia to take. “Shall we, my dear?”
“We shall.” The golden girl laid her hand on the inside of his elbow, as if she was a highborn lady who did such things every day of her
life. “Let’s go find some magic.”
10
The Catacombs
Trix, Lizinia, Vick, and Uncle Bear snuck into the corridor. The wan light of Wisdom’s tooth lit the way. Vick, who should have been in the lead, exercised his right to cowardice by barking guidance from the back of the group.
They had been running on their way to Wednesday’s chambers. They proceeded more cautiously when leaving, which gave Trix a chance to look around as Vick steered them through the maze of hallways. The walls and ceiling were fashioned from the Hill itself—the halls were lushly decorated with flowers and vines that seemed to grow from within. Here and there something scuffled in the darkness beyond the circle of toothlight, but no animal approached them.
“Was it wise to leave Trebald behind?” Lizinia whispered to Trix. “I’d gotten quite used to him.”
Trix was more concerned about leaving their bows, but as Wednesday pointed out, long range weapons wouldn’t be useful in such close quarters. Lizinia, Uncle Bear, and his golden dagger would have to be enough. “Trebald will be fine. He’ll know Saturday when she arrives, and he’ll be able to track us by scent and lead her to us when she does. Besides, this trip would make him terribly nervous, and you know he gets hungry when he’s nervous.”
“That’s true. I will worry about him less this way. He is safe.”
Trix wasn’t sure anywhere under the Hill was safe while magic was out of balance, but there was a far better chance of it with Wednesday and Aunt Joy. Abruptly, the decorative hallway forked. The flowers that lined the right side were all yellow. The flowers on the left were all a vibrant fuchsia.
“Purple,” Vick said from the vicinity of Uncle Bear’s hindquarters.
Trix and Lizinia complied. “Are you hungry?” Lizinia asked him.
“I prefer not to think about it.” Trix couldn’t afford to be trapped in Faerie forever and ever. Wouldn’t his wicked Aunt Sorrow have loved that?
“Left again,” said Vick, but Trix and Lizinia halted instead. An enormous blue-and-green striped python stretched across the junction.
Lizinia, with her impervious skin, thought nothing of the blockade and moved to step over the snake’s thick body. It was Uncle Bear who caught a golden arm in his jaws and pulled her back.