by Aaron Crash
Chapter Ten
ZIZIVA HONEYGOOD GLANCED out the window of The Paradise Tree’s back room. It wasn’t raining, but the mist coated the window. The fairy had wanted a clear night. Only half of her wish had come true.
Maybe that was okay.
What she really wanted, far more than good weather, was for the help of a certain mermaid named Charibda Delphino. For that, Ziziva prayed with all of her might to the Divine Verum Spark. To the very dust of life, the pollen that fell from the Tree of Life. That helped fuel their Scintilla Dust magic.
Ziziva hated Vempor’s Cape, the weather, the college, her business in xocalati and other sweets. There were precisely fifty-seven reasons why she was living a life she never wanted.
The number one reason? It was very profitable—she’d made the fortune of a lifetime running the candy shop. It wasn’t just the storefront that made her money. She’d amassed a queen’s fortune managing xocalati sales up and down the coast.
Too bad Ziziva wasn’t a queen. That, right there, was the problem.
And she wasn’t exactly sure she was a princess, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she might be. Why else would the Undergem Guild’s mistress, the fairy queen, send Ziziva to the school in the first place?
That was reason eleven out of the fifty-seven reasons—Dillyday Everjewel insisted that Ziziva attend the school as both a student and a spy. Ziziva had learned a great deal about the four Studiae Magica and the five Categoria Magica. However, the Fayee had always been more in tune with the magic in the world. They had to be.
Everything and everyone had been against the fairies since the Tree of Life was first planted a millennia ago by the Seedmaster.
In the back room of The Paradise Tree, Ziziva adjusted Nan Honeysweet, the clockwork old woman that sat in the back of their shop. Having a kindly old woman running the shop, with such a sweet name, with such a pleasant persona, was a far better marketing ploy than advertising the xocalati shop was being run by fairies.
People didn’t like fairies. The rumors and conspiracies around fairies were not taken seriously. That was mostly because of the Winkle Way, the Winkle Tongue, the Winkle Self. The Fayee had to act a certain way around the Poisoned Fruit people. That was what the bigguns were, Poisoned Fruit. They had tumbled off the Tree of Life to rot on the ground. It was the Fayee that were pure, sprung from the sweet life-giving pollen of the Tree of Life, that filled the world with sweetness and light.
The Verum Way, the Verum Tongue, the Verum Self—that had to be protected, and it was Verum magic that kept them safe. For the most part. Every one of the Verum Fayee had made mistakes, and when Dillyday tried to punish Ziziva about her missteps with the barbarian, Ziziva had reminded the fairy queen about her own mistakes.
Because Queen Deedee had made mistakes. Many of them. The deals with the Aquaterreb? A mistake. What Deedee was doing with Della Pennez? A mistake. Forcing Ziziva to go to Old Ironbound and controlling her life? That had been the biggest mistake of all.
Ziziva adjusted a piece of clockwork and whispered, “Lutum fascinara.”
Covered in a shawl, the cogs making up the automaton’s clockwork face spun, which opened and closed her mouth. A very convincing voice came singing out of the gears. “Zorynda! You’re doing such a wonderful job! It makes me so happy the good students of Old Ironbound enjoy our candy so!”
Zorynda was in the front of the shop, in her Winkle Self, taking care of customers.
Ziziva stood in her Verum Self, smaller than most humans and elves, yes, but taller than the dwarves and strong in her own way. There were many ways to be strong, and Ziziva was mighty when it came to her Undergem Guild accounts and in her dusza, which buzzed with energy after giving Nan her daily dose of enchantment.
Zorynda giggled from the front. “Thank you, Nanny, Nanny! We love the students! We love the scholars! It makes us want to holler! Yay!”
The customers gave out a hearty, “Yay!”
The clockwork automaton then went through the motions of putting candy in colorful boxes and tying the packages closed with ribbon. It was all just shadow play, and it was effective. Everyone, except for the very clever barbarian, thought they’d talked to Nan, or saw her at the counter, or saw her walking the streets of the Sea Stair Market. They hadn’t, of course, but the Poisoned Fruit people were simple and stupid and didn’t look very far beyond their own concerns—and those concerns often ended right at the tips of their noses, dicks, or tits, as the case may be.
People could be convinced of anything, and often were. All it took was a bit of sales and marketing, which was a magic all its own.
Ziziva spun in a shower of Scintilla Dust and shrank into her Winkle Self. Her tight, sparkly dress shrank with the rest of her. The Fayee had learned Form magic to transform their clothes and other items, so when they changed, they didn’t have to keep dressing and undressing. Not that fairies were modest. They weren’t. Like the merfolk, the Fayee knew it was only just skin. Only just meat.
Ziziva went spinning into the front and spun around Zorynda. She spoke in the Winkle Tongue. “Zorynda Gold, I’m off to see the Friday night gold, the Friday night lights, I’ll be having some fun this night. But I’ll be back, and it’ll be neat, so give these people their sweety-sweet sweets. Yessy?”
“Yessy, Ziziva Zee! Yessy, please!”
Zorynda and Ziziva rubbed noses and the scholars watched with dizzy smiles on their dumb faces.
“Have fun with the Friday highlights, Zee!” Zorynda called out.
Ziziva swooped into the back room, grabbed her warmest cloak, fur-lined and very fine, and then went sailing out of the shop through a special hole cut near the ceiling, crafted for easy exit and entrance into the back room.
She flew onto a rooftop and then worked her wings through the holes in the back of the cloak before throwing the hood over her head.
So cold, so misty, so rainy, Vempor’s Cape had always been depressing and heart-crushing, if Ziziva was going to be honest with herself. Completely heart-crushing. So many of her dreams had been destroyed on the Sea Stair Market. So many of her plans come undone. So many of her desires left unfulfilled.
Queen Deedee had lied to her from the very first moments of her life.
The fairy queen, the money mistress, the mistress of the Undergem Guild, Deedee had many titles.
Maybe Mommy Deedee had told Ziziva a lie more diabolical and troublesome than all the others combined. It was reason number two why Ziziva was at the university. The lie was that money would make her happy. The more money she made, the happier she would be.
Reason number two had seemed the most valid reason—especially when Ziziva had seen her future in her Flow magic. Ziziva had felt a happiness, a wonder, an excitement, and so she’d come to Old Ironbound with such hope, determination, and drive filling her.
And when she met the barbarian, that keen sense of impending happiness had felt so close, like dawn filling the horizon, like the very first bite of the Amora Xoca, which Ziziva had to be careful with. The love xocalati was powerful, and she’d gotten herself all in a lusty tizzy with the barbarian and freckled dwab with the enormous breasts. Toriah Welldeep, that was her name. She was one of Ymir’s wives.
Even thinking that name, Ymir, made Ziziva’s heart quicken.
She saw him in her Flow magic, she’d seen him look with love at her, such love, such kindness, such wonder. Was that a future that would never be? Or would it be possible? Could it be possible?
Hardly. Queen Deedee had forced Ziziva to be such a bother to Ymir and his wives. They needed to hate her—that had been the directive. And Ziziva had argued against the directive. She had pleaded with the fairy queen, but to no avail. Deedee had certain ideas, and she couldn’t be reasoned with.
In the end, hiding the Verum Way was more important than anything. Though with every ridiculous flirt, with every silly rhyme, with every lewd gesture, Ziziva had died a bit. The reality was that a part of her true self was silly and carefre
e and fun. She liked talking in the Winkle Tongue. But pretending to be silly and horny, day after day, made everything seemed stained and fake.
The fairy girl stood on the top of a peaked roof in the Sea Stair Market. She kept her Scintilla Dust down, and her wings dark. She stood on the very top of a building, looking down at the scholars in their robes, going in and out of the taverns, restaurants, and shops of the Sea Stair. Such happy Poisoned Fruit people, unknowingly happy, in their little ways.
Many were rich, but not all—Ziziva recognized a few poor boys who’d won their way into the school through the Open Exam. Why, she saw the viscount Roger Knellknapp, who’d manage to pass the Open Exam the same year that the barbarian had. Unlike the barbarian, the penniless viscount had been marked by the event—a scar cut across his forehead below his wavy dark hair. The scar actually did wonders for his otherwise pudgy face.
Ziziva knew of the viscount and other minor Sorrow Coast Kingdom royalty. She’d lived for a time on the Sondus River, in one of the secret Fayee cities there. The Fayee made sure to build their hidden towns on all the waterways of the world, lakes, rivers, coastlines. It was a way of controlling commerce and managing merchants, and fairies needed water for their babies.
Ziziva had lived on the Sondus River, but she’d grown up on Long River, which cut through the ancient city of Four Roads. Queen Deedee had kept a constant watch on Ziziva. It was one of the reasons why Ziziva thought Deedee might be her real mother, though Fayee families didn’t work like the Poisoned Fruit people’s families.
Deedee had always been a part of Ziziva’s life. Always. Even when she’d been a wogglespark. From the very beginning. As far back as Ziziva could remember. Yes, she’d been raised by her district with all the wogglesparks, who became wogglebabies, who later grew to be wogglekids. No single mother, Ziziva had had dozens of mothers, but her true parent had been the Long River Magistrate. The magistrates ruled their districts. The magistrates bowed to the fairy queen. The hierarchies were the will of the Divine Verum Spark. Forever and ever, amen.
From her perch, Ziziva saw Gatha, Lillee, and Jennybelle walk into the Unicorn’s Uht. She thought about flying down to annoy them because that was the directive. The fairy girl didn’t have the heart do it. No, she was sick with regret and frightened of the hard thing she had to do that night.
The fairy girl launched herself off the building and flew over the shops and sparkling lights of the marketplace. Then she was buzzing over the worst of the Flow housing, the sea alley, where the barbarian had lived during his eventful imprudens year.
Ziziva had been a student back then, gossiping with Zorynda about the idea of a barbarian with a dusza. It was impossible until it wasn’t.
Just like a business in xocalati was impossible until it wasn’t. Ziziva had first tasted the delicacy growing up in Four Roads, but the treat was only a princely dessert of the Morbuskor, who had the wealth to afford the rare and exotic xoca bean.
It was only after Ziziva found a way to import her supply of xoca beans from the Aquaterreb that her business dreams became a reality. But soon after, oh so soon after, such trouble found her. Such heartbreak.
Ziziva had asked for her heart’s desire. And both her magistrate and Queen Deedee had said no. It was a sorrow in her. It was an agony. All the while, she had to giggle and flirt and make Ymir and his harem hate her.
Zooming through the air on her wings, Ziziva fought the winds that came blowing off the Weeping Sea. She took her Verum Self to give herself some weight and muscle against the buffeting breezes. The weather wasn’t fierce, but it wasn’t easy.
In the distance, she saw the lighthouse on StormLight Island. That was where she was heading. Of course she was. For she had business, naughty business, with a certain mermaid.
Ziziva had decided that if she was going to ruin her life, she might as well start the process with a mermaid. For it was only because of the Aquaterreb that she had swelled her bank account. To do that, she’d had to make several deals with the various families that ruled the ocean. And with Queen Deedee’s blessing, she had allowed them to see her in her Verum Self without using the Scintilla Dust to remove their memories.
But then the Scintilla Dust had many uses, one of which was to seduce. However, it wasn’t as powerful as the Amora Xoca. Not in the slightest.
Ziziva kept her sparkles dim as she approached the lighthouse. She spun around the white bricks and kept out of the searching beam as it slowly turned to illuminate the rocks on the island. The surf below surged onto the rocks, throwing spray, and for a moment, Ziziva was enamored of this watery place she’d come to know. Unlike the wide, quiet river where she grew up, the Weeping Sea was full of passion.
Perhaps if things had gone differently, perhaps if Ziziva had been free to pursue her dream, to dance to the beat of her own heart, she would’ve fallen in love with Old Ironbound and Vempor’s Cape. As it was, she’d been a puppet, a slave, and this was her prison.
She flew down and around Damnation Sue’s little shack. Damnation Sue was the woman who watched over the lighthouse. The cat scurried from the old woman’s fire to come hissing at the fairy through the window. Ziziva didn’t pause and went flying onward down to the dock, which was empty, and then came to stand on the doorstep of the lighthouse. A soft light glowed in the thick-paned window.
Ziziva didn’t know how to start, and she didn’t want to appear in her Verum Self. The Winkle Way would be better, but Ziziva didn’t know how to be flirty and serious at the same time.
And this new gambit, this new risk, had her torn between the truth of rebellion, and the fantasy of following her dreams.
Ziziva finally had enough of her dithering. She knocked once, twice, three times. She then swirled into her Winkle Self and spun her wings to keep her aloft. She added a good amount of Scintilla Dust around her as well since that was what was expected.
But she wasn’t doing what was expected. She was doing something else.
However, if you wear a mask long enough, you become the mask. The door was yanked open, and a very angry mermaid stood there on strong human legs. She was wearing a little gown that did nothing to cover her. She was so tall, slender, with pale skin covered here and there with glittering scales. Those would come and go, however, depending on her mood. Her hair was bright blue with a purple stripe. Her angry eyes were a muddy dark green.
Oh, this Ribby Rib Rib could get so angry. “What do you want? I expected any number of visitors, but not some fairy candy seller. Who I can’t trust. Ymir fucking hates you. That makes me want to hate you ten times more than I already do.”
Ziziva felt a cold fear envelope her heart. She needed this mermaid, and not just for information or sales, but as a friend, a confidante. Where to begin? How to begin?
Ziziva didn’t know and her courage failed her.
Chapter Eleven
ZIZIVA FLOATED IN THE air in front of the mermaid. Outside the comfortable little lighthouse room, the waves pounded the island, throwing froth.
Anger outside. Anger inside. Ribby looked like she wanted nothing more than to grab Ziziva and devour her. The Aquaterreb had their human appearance, but they could also become black-eyed monsters with fangs sharp enough to rip through a deep shark’s thick scales.
Ziziva felt herself panicking, so she followed the script that Queen Deedee had given her from the very start.
She flew over the mermaid’s shoulder, giggling wildly. While Ziziva at times wearied of the mask, she did find breaking the social conventions of the Poisoned Fruit people thrilling. The Winkle Tongue came easily. “We’re living in a very fairy story, silly Ribby, a mermaid in a lighthouse, pining for her love, and me, a Fayee who wants such a love, but is it possible for me? Is it okay for me in this story to be free?”
Ribby plucked her wicked trident from the wall and turned. In her wispy nightgown, nipples hard, her little honeypot pale and pink between her legs, this mermaid creature appeared both alluring and savage. “I didn’t invite yo
u in, fairy slut. You need to leave, and leave right fucking now!”
The room was awash in pale blue and purple fabrics. Sunfire candles burned on her desk, on her nightstand, next to a tangle of silk—her sleeping net, hanging from the ceiling. It was comfortable and feminine, complete with books, her papers, and plenty of pens and ink. It was a sad scholar’s room, and newly decorated, to be truthful.
Ziziva felt her treacherous heart burning inside her as she doubted if the Winkle Way was the right approach. It wasn’t. She didn’t know what else to do. The fairy girl’s desperation made her stupid.
“You’re just back!” Ziziva giggled. “Just back from the bottom, but then, in the bottom is the way I like it. Have Ymir and his ladies come to play?” It was so easy to be like this, so easy to embrace the Winkle Way and act like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Ribby stood with her trident, but she was now resting its butt on the floor. She wasn’t speaking, she wasn’t glaring, she was looking. Simply looking.
Without someone to fight, without words, Ziziva stopped as well. She floated in the air, wings whirring. “Why do you stare at me so?”
The mermaid didn’t respond. She simply stared at Ziziva with her muddy green eyes. Not very pretty eyes, no, not like Ziziva’s bright blue ones. But there was an intelligence there, a strength.
“Why don’t you speak?” Ziziva asked. “Why are you just staring at me? What’s your problem?” The fairy girl felt so unsure of herself right then that she let the Verum Tongue slip into her normal giggles and rhymes.
The sea princess turned and set the trident against the wall. She then walked to her desk and sat down. She opened a book, something on Moons magic, and started reading.
Ziziva didn’t know what to do. She expected shouting, or spells, or even a well-aimed thrust from the trident. She didn’t expect silence and staring. And then to be ignored?
The fairy girl buzzed up the steps, mind racing. The mermaid wasn’t playing like she should. What was her game?
