The Princess Imposter

by Vivian Vande Velde

  “I didn’t know that,” Gabriella said.

  All four members of the Council said, “Obviously.”

  “Still,” Gabriella said, “baby teeth? Wouldn’t teeth from full-grown dragons be more powerful?”

  Irate Fairy Woman slammed her hand on the table as though her patience had been exhausted.

  “And,” Gabriella guessed, “that would make them harder to come by. Sorry. I won’t interrupt again.”

  The fairies seemed to relax.

  “Except,” Gabriella said, “sorry, one more question.” Despite all the sighs from the Council members, she asked, “So what do you do with the teeth? Grind them up into … fairy dust?” She was thinking of the way Vimit had come and gone in a cloud of shimmery dust.

  “Dust?” Irate Fairy Man repeated, since Irate Fairy Woman was clearly so beside herself with vexation that she was beyond words. “Dust? Do humans use dust to trade?”

  “No,” Gabriella admitted hesitantly. “But we don’t use teeth, either.”

  Parf put his face down on the table, grumbling, “I’m so glad I brought you.”

  His father said, “Hush now,” and he leaned across to pat Gabriella’s hand, plainly offering comfort. “You’re doing the best you can,” he said. “That’s the important thing.”

  “Really?” Parf asked his father. “I would have thought the important thing was not having you exiled.” He sat up, his wings quivering. “Or is that what you want? To have an excuse to leave us and go live among the humans?”

  “No,” Benlos said, sounding genuinely shocked at the idea. “Leave the family?”

  Irate Fairy Woman had finally gotten her voice back. “Did I not say No disruptions? Another interruption from you, Changeling, and I will fine your family and have you cast out.”

  Judging by Parf’s stricken look, when she said family she meant fairy family, and—again judging by his look—they didn’t have the … well, the teeth … to pay a fine.

  She nodded, even though she felt that, strictly speaking, it would be politer to say out loud that she understood; but she worried that, given the fairies’ mood, they might count even agreement as an interruption.

  Irate Fairy Woman drummed her thin fingers on the table—perhaps waiting for verbal acknowledgment. Perhaps waiting to pounce on Gabriella.

  Gabriella gave what she hoped was a winsome smile.

  Irate Fairy Woman sighed, then turned to Irate Fairy Man and said, “Councillor Ardforgel, please explain to the Council what happened.”

  Irate Fairy Man was Ardforgel? And he was a member of the Council? Gabriella had attended sessions when her father sat in judgment and weighed testimony from two conflicting parties. She bit her lip to keep from blurting out: This is a clear case of conflict of interest.

  Ardforgel said, “Benlos had come to my home to visit. As he is … ” Arforgel sniffed, and Gabriella wondered if he had picked up that mannerism from his wife, or she from him. “… as he is my wife’s sister’s husband … ” He rolled his eyes to show what he thought of that. “… I felt family-bound to ask him in.”

  “So you had not invited him?” Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman asked. “He simply stopped by, unannounced?”

  “That is correct,” Ardforgel said.

  Benlos made a noise somewhere between a hmmm and a snort, then smiled apologetically as though the sound had been unintentional.

  “Now is not the time for your testimony,” Irate Fairy Woman admonished.

  Benlos nodded somberly, but then winked at her.

  She was not amused.

  “Anyway,” Ardforgel said, fighting to regain everyone’s attention, “since I know Benlos and his family have hardly enough dragons’ teeth to fill the mouth of a chicken, and since this means he has to … ” Ardforgel shuddered. “… walk everywhere, I invited him to sit and rest and have a refreshing lemonade. While I went into the kitchen, Benlos sat in our parlor.” He nodded meaningfully.

  Irate Fairy Woman asked, “And that’s where you keep your dragons’ teeth?”

  “Well, not all.” Ardforgel’s tone indicated such a possibility would be ridiculous. “Some of them. About a dozen. A handy supply for impulsive or whimsical spells.” As he said this, he rested his hand against his upper chest, just below his neck.

  Though Gabriella hadn’t asked—she hadn’t dared—Benlos leaned around Parf to explain. He pulled a locket, somewhat battered and the worse for wear, from beneath his own shirt. “We all have one of these—”

  The Council members were nodding, and Gabriella could make out the shape of a locket or two beneath each fairy’s clothing. But Ardforgel snorted.

  “Yes, yes,” Benlos said, “we all know your locket is much finer than mine.” Once he flipped it open, Gabriella saw a single sharp tooth, about as big as her pinkie. “The magic wears out,” he said. “Some fairies go through significantly more teeth than others of us do.”

  Gabriella nodded before glancing at the Council members and drawing her finger across her lips. She crossed her arms to say, without ever actually saying, Not a word passed my lips. You can’t accuse me of disrupting.

  “Some of us,” Ardforgel snapped, “work hard for our dragons’ teeth.”

  “Certainly,” Benlos said. “And some of us had parents who worked hard, then passed their dragons’ teeth on to us—and yet are still greedy and ever-conniving for more.”

  Apparently this was a sensitive subject for Ardforgel. “And some of us are lazy wastrels who squander what we have, and couldn’t hold on to dragons’ teeth even … even if your hands were covered in sap!”

  Close to Napping Fairy Man looked as though Ardforgel’s raised voice might have jerked him back from the very precipice of, in fact, napping. “Must you be so loud in your convictions?” he asked.

  Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman tapped her fingers against the table. “In any case, this is not the time nor place for this discussion.”

  “But you can see,” Arforgel persisted, “that Benlos resents my good fortune and feels entitled to it himself.”

  Gabriella permitted a little squeak to escape from the back of her throat as the two fairy women looked at each other. Irate Fairy Woman was nodding at what Ardforgel had just said, but Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman, after a quick glance at Gabriella, admitted, “Not exactly.”

  “Well, he does,” Ardforgel muttered.

  Irate Fairy Woman told him, “Continue telling what happened.”

  Ardforgel was pouting, but he finished, “I came back from the kitchen, and the cabinet where we store some just-for-whims teeth was open. Benlos was gone. And so were the teeth.”

  Irate Fairy Woman turned to Parf’s father. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “There’s not much of that account with which I would agree,” Benlos said. “Starting with: Ardforgel and I crossed paths in the Everywhere Room—and he invited me to accompany him to his house.”

  The Everywhere Room, Gabriella surmised, must be the room where she and Parf had ended up after Mumsy’s spell. The room itself was clearly magical, so that fairies could use it to get from one place to wherever they wanted to be. Very handy magic.

  Benlos continued. “He said his wife was gone for the day—either shopping for yet more clothing and useless objects to make herself feel important, or flitting from friend to friend, gathering and dispersing gossip. He said we would have plenty of time to talk without her interruptions.”

  “Lies,” Ardforgel sputtered.

  Irate Fairy Woman told him, “You will have another chance to speak anon.”

  Gabriella gave an emphatic nod to show her kindly-note-that-I’m-still-not-talking support for this fair ruling.

  Ardforgel squirmed in his chair, clearly wanting a chance to speak both now and anon.

  Benlos continued. “Ardforgel told me his wife goes through dragons’ teeth faster than hummingbirds go through nectar.”

  “I would never!” Ardforgel protested.

  Close to Nap
ping Fairy Man said, “Councillor Ardforgel, you’re bruising my eardrums. You’re more bothersome than the changeling.”

  Gabriella smiled as endearingly as she could manage.

  “Is there any purpose to what you’re saying,” Irate Fairy Woman asked Benlos, “other than to belittle Sylvimit?”

  Benlos paused to weigh the question—perhaps he thought belittling Sylvimit might be reason enough. But then he said, “Ardforgel is running short of dragons’ teeth. Well, running short by his standards. He heard me tell a story—and by story, I mean I never tried to pass it off as something real—about a magic cauldron. Though I do admit my stories are very compelling.” Benlos paused and considered. “Gripping, even. And logical—and by that I mean internally consistent. And therefore believable. And—”

  Ardforgel jumped to his feet. “You are so full of yourself!” he cried.

  Benlos shrugged. “In the story,” he said, “whatever anyone put into that cauldron at night, come morning you would find two of the thing. He offered to buy this cauldron from me.”

  “This makes no sense,” Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman said. “If you had such a cauldron, why wouldn’t you use it? Why would you be poor?”

  Good for you! Gabriella thought, hoping the fairy woman might be more on Benlos’s side than the others.

  Benlos inclined his head. “As you say,” he murmured, “no one has ever accused Ardforgel of being particularly gifted in the realm of common sense. But he did ask for proof. He gave me this one tooth … ” His hand brushed against the locket. “… and he told me to bring two back. I admit only that I felt no guilt in taking his tooth. Anyone that foolish … ” Benlos shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. “One could almost make a case for such a person deserving to be taken advantage of … in a small matter … to teach him to be more discerning.”

  Probably not the best defense, Gabriella thought.

  In fact, Irate Fairy Woman brought her hand down on the table, making everyone—not just Close to Napping Fairy Man—jump. “Enough of this sniping at each other,” she ordered. “Ardforgel, sit down. Was there anyone present by your home to see you invite Benlos in?”

  “No,” Ardforgel admitted.

  Turning to Benlos, she asked, “Was anyone present in the Everywhere Room when Ardforgel invited you to his home?”

  Benlos shook his head. “No one who would have noticed us.”

  “Then it seems to me,” Irate Fairy Woman said, “that it’s a case of you-say-this-and-you-say-that. Each of you claims one version of events, and neither of you can prove anything. It is one fairy’s word against another.”

  “Except,” Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman reminded them, “for the fact that Benlos has a dragon’s tooth he admits is Ardforgel’s.”

  So much for being on Benlos’s side.

  The fairies all nodded grimly.

  “One,” Benlos pointed out.

  “I don’t know what he did with the other eleven,” Ardforgel hurried to say. “Beyond the fact that he obviously spent one on a changeling spell.”

  From the beginning of her stay, Gabriella had had the impression that the fairy children were responsible for her being there. She jabbed Parf in the ribs.

  He yipped in surprise, then glowered at her for calling attention to him.

  “Everyone’s looking at you now anyway,” Gabriella muttered at him.

  Nervous to speak before the Council members, he still managed to mutter loud enough to be heard, “It was Phleg done that. She used her own dragon’s tooth.” He faced Ardforgel. “The one you and Aunt Vo”—he corrected himself—“Aunt Vimit gave for her coming-of-age ceremony. The chipped one.”

  A chipped dragon’s tooth had to be less valuable than a whole one, and Gabriella noticed eyebrows went up around the room at Ardforgel’s patent tightfistedness. “Be that as it may … ,” Ardforgel blustered.

  “It seems to me,” Irate Fairy Woman forged on, “that given the total lack of evidence or witnesses, we can only judge by the character of those involved.” She paused to let everyone think about that.

  Gabriella’s heart sank.

  “So,” Irate Fairy Woman said, “we need to decide: Do we trust the word of a respected member of the Council, who comes from a long line of distinguished ancestors? Or of a … Storyteller … And bear in mind that Storyteller means someone who makes up stories. Or, put another way, someone who tells lies.”

  Gabriella glanced around the room. The Council members were all nodding or shaking their heads at precisely the wrong moments—except for Close to Napping Fairy Man, who was nodding at everything, clearly about to drop off.

  Parf would not look up from his hands, clasped on the table. Even Benlos appeared deflated.

  “A vote,” Irate Fairy Woman declared, clearly hoping to be loud enough to bestir those Council members whose chins were drooping toward their chests. “Who believes Ardforgel?” Her own hand went up as she asked.

  Ardforgel’s hand shot up.

  More slowly, Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman raised her hand.

  Irate Fairy Woman nudged Close to Napping Fairy Man, who—seeing all the other hands raised—raised his own.

  Irate Fairy Woman made a show of counting each of the Council members.

  “And who,” she asked, letting her hand drop, “believes Benlos?”

  Gabriella raised her hand.

  “You are not allowed to vote!” snapped both Irate Fairy Woman and Ardforgel.

  Gabriella jumped to her feet. “This is unfair,” she told them. Parf was making all sorts of grimaces and twitches for her to sit back down. “I know it’s rude to be dismissive of other cultures, but fairy law is unfair.”

  “No, it’s not,” Irate Fairy Woman said dismissively.

  But Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman asked, “How so?”

  “Ardforgel is the one making the complaint. How can he be allowed to vote?”

  “Even so,” Ardforgel drawled, “it’s still three who believe me, and that leaves … let’s see … how many believe Benlos? Oh yes, that would be none.”

  Gabriella said, “That’s because nobody has been asking the right questions.”

  His voice dripping with scorn, Ardforgel asked, “The right questions being those relating to personal dragons and fairy dust?”

  “No,” Gabriella said, drawing the word out as she realized she had worked herself into a corner.

  “What should we be asking?” asked Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman, the only Council member who seemed even remotely interested in the truth.

  Gabriella took a deep breath. She realized that if she was to save Benlos, then she must let her courtly training overcome her fear of doing something wrong. She had seen her father settle disputes. She could do this. “Clearly, the most important question is: Who has something to gain from all of this?”

  Ardforgel made a sound of exasperation. “Clearly … ,” he said, mimicking Gabriella. He looked around the room to ensure that everyone was with him—and everyone was, right down to Close to Napping Fairy Man, who didn’t even complain about Ardforgel’s escalating volume. “… clearly, the answer is THE PERSON WHO HAS MORE DRAGONS’ TEETH NOW THAN BEFORE.”

  “But,” Gabriella persisted, “who would that be?”

  Ardforgel rolled his eyes and shouted, “Benlos, you silly twit of a human girl!”

  “Really?” Gabriella asked. “Benlos looks as though he’s profited from this?”

  All the fairies looked at Benlos, with his reminiscent-of-radishes clothing and his lumpy, bumpy cauliflower-like shoes.

  Smiling sheepishly, Benlos shrugged, since there was obviously no comparison between what he was wearing and the gauzy, floaty attire of the others.

  “Well,” Ardforgel muttered, “so he hasn’t used the teeth yet … ”

  “Then where are they?” Gabriella asked.

  Benlos jumped to his feet, extending his arms out from his sides, an invitation to be searched. When none of the fairies responded, he patted his ow
n arms, chest, and legs. He ran his fingers through his hair—which would have dislodged anything that might have been hidden there—and stretched his arms to reach as far around his back as he could around his wings. Nothing there, either. He was just unfastening the vine that held up his pants when Irate Fairy Woman ordered, “Enough.”

  “Obviously he doesn’t have them on his person anymore,” Ardforgel admitted grumblingly.

  Now Parf jumped to his feet. “He didn’t pass them on to me, neither,” he said, and to demonstrate he began to repeat the same slapping-his-own-limbs motions of his father. “Gabby?”

  As her nightgown was longer and looser than fairy clothing, Gabriella was thinking that proving she wasn’t hiding anything might be difficult. So she was relieved when Irate Fairy Woman repeated—a bit more testily than before—“Enough!”

  His arms folded defensively across his chest, Ardforgel pointed out, “He could have hidden them somewhere.”

  “I can attest that he hasn’t been home in the last two days,” Gabriella said. Seeing Ardforgel take a breath to protest, she added, “And, as an outsider—wrenched unwillingly from my own home—I have no reason to lie.”

  Ardforgel sat back to reconsider his options.

  Gabriella asked, “And where, besides his own home, would be a safe place to hide such valuable items? Where other fairies would be unlikely to happen upon them and take them for their own?” This was not a compelling argument, Gabriella knew—but she didn’t need to prove his innocence, just cast doubt about his guilt.

  “You make a valid point, Changeling,” Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman said. “But what reason would Councillor Ardforgel have to make up the story he told us?”

  “You know him better than I do,” Gabriella said. She quickly added, “And you know his wife. Is there any possibility of truth in what Benlos has said—that Ardforgel and Sylvimit are spending their dragons’ teeth at such a rate that they are apt to run out? Could Ardforgel be desperate enough to replenish their supply that he was willing to believe the fanciful folktale Benlos told of a magic cauldron?”

  “If he believed the story,” said Close to Napping Fairy Man, who finally seemed wide awake, “why turn on Benlos before Benlos had a chance to work the cauldron’s supposed magic?”