by K. M. Shea
“You mean there wasn’t a great dwarf-high elf war?” I cautiously asked. “Or the high elves didn’t go to war against some great darkness, and the dwarves didn’t help them?” I asked, recalling one of my favorite authors—J. R. R. Tolkien.
Grogrintork looked at me like I was crazy. “War? All magical beings work together if there’s a war, missy. No questions asked. Nope, last act we made against the elves was back in 1930s. Couple ‘o Iron Eye dwarves stuck a whoopee cushion on High Elf Farfwyn’s seat in the Fairy Council. They might be right to hold a grudge ‘bout that,” he grunted.
I stared. “A whoopee cushion.”
“Danged funny things,” Grogrintork grinned.
I took a sip of my cappuccino for fortification. “Right, so what you’re really after is dwarves being able to enter the ranks of the MBRC, and to get rid of this isolation-hiring freeze combo.”
“That sounds right.”
“Okay. I’m not sure if I can do anything to help you, Mr. Grogrintork, but I can certainly try. Before we go any farther I would like to talk with some of my contacts and associates.”
“That’s reasonable,” Grogrintork said, turning to look behind him when Baobab entered the office.
Baobab tilted her head forward before she seated herself behind the desk.
“Just two more questions,” I said. “Why me, and why now.”
Grogrintork raised his blonde eyebrows. “Why? The only option is ye, Miss Fae. No one else has the gumption—or cares I suppose—about us lower races. And why now? Well…we weren’t sure ‘til yesterday afternoon that ye weren’t in Moonspell’s pocket.”
I almost dropped my coffee thermos I was so surprised.
“Ye have my card. Contact me when ye wish to talk again,” Grogrintork said, hefting himself out of the chair. “Thank ye, Morgan L. Fae,” he said, seeing himself out of my office.
His escort followed him, although one of them dawdled in front of Baobab’s desk, shyly watching her for a moment before hurrying after his friends.
When the door shut I slumped over my desk. “Whoa.”
Harrison stepped away to inspect the area the dwarves had stood in—probably looking for bugs and listening devices or something. (Goblins were just as good with human society and technology as cyclopes were.)
“Well. I think I found my thorn to cram in Administrator Moonspell’s side. What do you think, Krusher?” I asked.
“It’s Harrison, Miss Fae,” Harrison said before straightening the chair Grogrintork sat in.
“Yeah, that’s what I think too,” I said, thumping my head on my desk.
5
The Museum Field Trip
Saturday morning rolled around, and I was more than prepared for the field trip to the Museum of Science and Industry. I arrived at the MBRC, took roll, and inspected everyone’s glamours.
The students going on the field trip were what I consider my core group: Dave, Frey, Frank, Perseus and Athena—his centaur girlfriend—Madeline, a drabby wood elf nicknamed Oak, three drabby fairies—Corn, Sage, and Zinnia—Sacmis the sphinx, and Asahi and his high elf girlfriend Kadri. Esmeralda came with—more to commiserate with me than out of any sort of curiosity—and Harrison, of course, trailed after us.
Perseus, Athena, and Sacmis wore glamours—which served to disguise their less-than-human bodies. Everyone else, though, was disguised mostly by wearing hats, gloves, and jackets. And with good reason.
Because I am occasionally stupid, when we were mapping out the trip everyone begged me to let us walk to the corner of State Street and Jackson Boulevard where we would pick up Bus 10, instead of tacking on CTA bus 7 as well to cover the distance. It was a little over half a mile between Union Station and the bus stop we needed. They reasoned it wouldn’t take long, and they badly wanted to people watch as they walked.
They were right. Relatively speaking it was a short walk. But there was just one problem.
IT WAS FREEZING COLD!
“Whose idea was it to walk?” I asked Madeline through clenched teeth, longing to strangle someone.
“Asahi’s I think.”
“Let’s kill him,” I said as Madeline huddled closer to me while we waited for the bus.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Dave and Madeline fared the worst, being that they’re pretty dang cold to start with since their blood wasn’t pumping. Poor Sacmis wasn’t doing much better than them, but Frank and Frey were disgustingly chipper about the whole thing.
Frank tipped his head back to scent the air. “I smell popcorn,” he said, his eyes bright. He wore a medium coat, no gloves, no hat, and was fine.
“There’s a Garret Popcorn Shop back there,” I said, tipping my head down Jackson Boulevard, hopping in place to keep my feet warm.
“It smells good,” Frank said.
“Yeah,” Frey agreed after sniffing the air. “Let’s stop and get some on our way back.”
“Oohhh no,” I said. “You are not going to convince me to walk that distance again. No, we’re taking bus 7 back.”
“Morgan?”
“What?” I said a little more sharply than I meant to as I turned around.
Kadri—dressed in a warm, green colored ski jacket that set off the green of the hazel in her eyes—cringed and took a step back. (Over the past two years her clothing choices, and thus Asahi’s, had grown to be more fashionable and sophisticated.)
“Sorry, Kadri. I didn’t know it was you. Did you need something?” I asked, making a big effort to sound cheerful in spite of my fingertips that were going to fall off soon.
Kadri scratched at her ears—the glamour used to cloak the pointed tips probably itched. “I was wondering if you have time to meet me for coffee next week.”
I blinked. “You want a personal field trip?”
“No-no. I meant coffee at the MBRC. I just, I would like to talk to you,” the high elf said, fixing the way her matching scarf covered her neck.
“Sure. Does Tuesday work for you? Say, 4:30?”
Kadri beamed, hitting me with the full force of her high elf beauty. “That would be great. Thank you, Morgan.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, mollified by Kadri’s brilliance. I turned just in time to see our bus coming down the street. “Okay, this is it. Everyone have their passes?”
My students got on the bus without gawking too much, and they were pretty well behaved during the ride. In about twenty minutes we were outside the Museum of Science and Industry.
“Into the entry hall. Go, go, go,” I said, running into the building. I counted my students as they came in, ticking them off.
“The museum entrance fee is $18—Krusher I already have your ticket. Everyone get your money out. I’m going to put you in a line in pairs,” I said, observing the ticket lines. Thankfully it was early enough in the morning that it seemed pretty slow. As long as the ticket sellers weren’t in a hurry, my students were advanced enough to buy their own tickets.
“Asahi, Kadri, you go here. Sacmis, Esmeralda, here please. Perseus and Athena, right here. Frank and Madeline—” I paused and squinted at the backpack Madeline carried on her back. It moved as I watched it. “Madeline, what is in your backpack?”
Madeline twisted to face me. “What do you mean?” she asked with false innocence.
I spun Madeline around, ignoring her outraged squawks, and unzipped the largest pocket of her bright pink backpack.
A blue tinted dragon that was a little bigger than a housecat poked its head out of the backpack and held out a cookie to me with one of its front paws.
“Doggy,” I said, recognizing the little dragon from my stint at working the information desk of the MBRC. He’s a Miniature Doodle—a dragon-poodle, don’t ask. Basically he is a pet dragon. His owner is a flamingo pink dragon named Miss Bea who teaches at the MBRC. “What is Doggy doing here?”
“I’m watching him while Miss Bea is visiting relatives in Europe,” Madeline said.
“But what is Doggy doing here?�
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“I couldn’t leave him alone,” Madeline protested.
“Madeline, you have brought a dragon into a human museum!” I said, zipping the backpack up again after Doggy ducked inside.
“Do we need to go back?” Frey asked.
“We might,” I said before turning, looking for a student. “Corn, could you come over here, please?” I called to one of the three drabby fairies in my class.
“Yes?” Corn asked.
“There is a Doodle in this backpack. Do you think you can glamour it to look like a service animal?”
“I can try,” Corn said, looking around the museum entryway. “Could we go somewhere more private?”
“The bathrooms,” I said, dragging Madeline along. When we reached the bathrooms Harrison took up a post outside, looking conspicuously nonchalant for a guy wearing a suit and sunglasses in a museum.
Madeline, Corn, and I claimed the handicap stall—which was big enough to fit all three of us. I unzipped Madeline’s backpack, my arms dipping when doggy popped out of the bag and climbed up my arms so he could sit on my shoulder.
Corn cast her magic, and when the glamour was complete I had a furry service animal on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I’m not very good with animal glamours,” Corn apologized as I skeptically looked Doggy over.
Doggy no longer resembled a dragon, but a fluffy…thing. He had a little blue vest identifying him as a service animal, but it was anyone’s guess whether he was a cat or dog. When I pushed back the fur on his face I was mildly repulsed. He had the bulging eyes of a pug, and the nose and muzzle of a slightly squashed faced cat—although he still had the teeth and lower jaw of one of those toy/purse dogs.
“No one will mistake him for a dragon. And that’s the important thing,” I said, brightening when I discovered Corn had somehow given Doggy a collar and ID tags. “Madeline, your belt,” I said.
“What?” Madeline said.
“Your belt. I need it.”
“Why?” Madeline asked, struggling to remove it under her puffy jacket.
“Because even if he’s a service animal, Doggy has to be leashed.”
“What? Why do we have to use my belt? What’s wrong with yours?”
“We’re using your belt because you are the one who brought Doggy here. Now hand it over,” I said.
Madeline grumbled, but eventually fished her belt out from under all her layers. She was wearing a neon pink dress today, but it had a matching, cloth, belt that went around her waist. It was quite long since it was meant to be tied in a bow, which was great because I had to knot it around Doggy and then weave a hand loop for myself. It made a passable leash—it was more convincing than Doggy was, anyway.
“Ok, let’s try this,” I said, taking a deep breath before shifting Doggy to my arms. “If they ask for certification, we are in so much trouble,” I said as we left the bathrooms.
“Why?” Corn asked.
“Because I won’t be able to show them any,” I said.
“So? Can’t Harrison use his goblin powers on them?” Madeline asked, sulking a little as she trailed behind me.
“Oh,” I said, pausing. “Krusher, would you do that?” I said, stopping to ask my bodyguard.
“It’s Harrison, Miss Fae.”
“Thanks, Krusher. You’re the best,” I said.
Everyone except Corn and Madeline had purchased tickets—I bought Harrison’s and mine online the night before—so as one big group we stormed the entrances. (Getting up the escalators went well. Which was lucky, last time we encountered them Perseus almost took a tumble.)
Sure enough, at the actual entrance into the museum—where they look at your tickets and stuff—I was stopped by a museum guard.
“Miss, may I see some certification for your service…animal?” the guard asked.
“Um,” I said.
“You don’t need to see this animal’s certification,” Harrison said, his voice smooth and rich like chocolate cheesecake as he took off his sunglasses to look the guard in the eye. “We can move along.”
“You know, I don’t need to see any papers after all. Enjoy your visit,” the guard said with a smile before waving us on.”
“Are you a big Star Wars fan?” I asked.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Fae?”
“Hmm. Did George Lucas base Jedi knights off goblins?” I asked, putting Doggy on the ground, but holding tight to his leash.
“I do not know, Miss Fae.”
“That’s totally a yes. Okay, gang. We’re starting with the Coal Mine. It’s pretty popular since it’s an interactive experience, so we want to go on it now while the line is short. Anyone claustrophobic?” I asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
“Good, this way,” I said, leading the way—Doggy trotting at my heels.
We went down through the coal mine—which is actually sort of a mini ride. The wood elf got a little freaked out—turns out yes, he is claustrophobic—but everyone else had a great time.
Next we hit up the Great Train Story exhibit—which was a nice, low key exhibit after Oak’s episode.
I had Oak stand on the outskirts with me and Doggy to recuperate while the rest of my group pressed around the huge, model train track.
“So it’s supposed to represent the path from Chicago to Seattle?” Madeline asked, reading a museum placard.
“Yep,” I said, handing Oak a bottle of water.
“Look, it’s the Willis Tower. You took us there once,” Frank said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. The Willis Tower was one of the few locations we visited without any problems or fiascos.
“Is that a cow?” Madeline asked, her voice a little louder than necessary.
Kadri and Asahi approached me, having looped around from the place where the train passed through the Midwest, the plains, the Rockies and the Cascades.
“The workmanship is quite remarkable,” Asahi said.
“I appreciate that we can see how trains run,” Kadri said, her sincerity shining in her eyes. “The MBRC is built into Union Station, but I have not viewed trains outside an urban area.”
“Well, this is a model,” I said. “The real train track between Seattle and Chicago goes through way more countryside than could be imposed into one model.”
“Morgan,” Sage—one of the three fairies—said as she approached me. “There are miniature pink, plastic flamingos in this model. Are they an important part of human culture?”
“Um,” I said.
“Can we go to Yesterday’s Main Street?” Dave asked.
“What, you want to reminisce?” Frey said, folding his arms across his chest.
“And what if I do?” Dave pouted.
“Ugh, I bet my Dad would love that place,” Perseus said, rolling his eyes. The move was a great deal more effeminate than he meant for it to be as he was in his girl glamour—which was considered his normal disguise. “He’s always droning on and on about the past and yesterday and how ‘memories cannot be made after the moment is gone’ and all that weird crap.”
“Oohh, there’s an ice cream store there. Let’s go!” Madeline said.
“It’s open seasonally,” I said.
“So? Winter is a season.”
“I promise it’s not open,” I said. “Now go play I spy in the Chicago part of the train section. There are lists posted of things to look for.”
“Do I get a prize for finding everything?” Madeline slyly asked.
“I’ll buy you a cookie.”
“Great! Come on, Sage,” Madeline said, dragging the fairy with her.
“But, the flamingos,” Sage said.
“Who cares about flamingos? Morgan is going to buy us a cookie!” Madeline said.
“I would like to see these pink flamingos. Where are they?” Asahi asked.
“Are they supposed to be bird decoys? Like the ones the hunters use?” Frank asked.
“You know what duck decoys are?” Frey asked.
“
A hunter left his out in the woods once,” Frank said, scratching his neck. “I sorta figured out what it was when I tried gnawing on it.”
“The fact that they didn’t smell wasn’t a big clue?” Frey said.
“I was hungry,” Frank blushed.
I exhaled as the rest of my students drifted back to the model train exhibit. “Are you doing okay, Oak?” I asked as Doggy, the Unidentified Freakish Animal, sniffed a stroller parked near us.
“Better,” Oak said, plopping down on a bench.
“Do you need a snack or something?”
Oak held his stomach and looked pained. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Right, um, do you want to lie down on the bench?” I asked, tugging on Doggy’s leash so he returned to my side.
“No. I think if I sit for a few minutes, I’ll feel better. Thank you, Morgan,” Oak said with a brave smile.
A mother and two kids walked past us—neither of the kids could have been older than five.
“Mommy, what’s wrong with that doggy?” one of the kids, a little girl, asked.
Doggy, hearing his name, scampered to the edge of the leash, hovering like a mop brought to life.
“Don’t touch it,” the mother said, yanking her kids out of range.
“Oh my gawsh, that is the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen,” a teenage girl—probably a cheerleader—two benches over said, pointing in our direction. She was sitting on the lap of a reasonably muscled guy—her football player boyfriend most likely—and two more girls and another guy stood by her.
“I totally bet it’s inbred,” one of the girls said.
“Look at its teeth!”
“It has alien eyes,” one of the boys snickered.
Doggy’s head swiveled to look at them. He tilted his head and would have looked very cute if he didn’t have the glamour on.
“It’s gotta be a service animal, right? I wonder if the sight of it made its owner go blind,” the original, hateful girl said.
“What a mutt.”
“Who would want a dog like that?”
I frowned at them.
