by Jon Etter
“Go!” Ront shouted as he grabbed a hobgoblin and threw him at the head of one of the enemy spriggans.
“Don’t worry about oos—we can handle these softies!” A bloodied Yaxley cried, burying his fist in the face of a goblin who charged at him with an ax held high.
The rest, led by the Bowsers, ran through the gap created by the bruisers, but just before they were clear the ogre broke free from the melee, leapt directly in front of them, and let loose with a horribly loud and vile-smelling roar right in the face of the twins. When he was done, the two exchanged an annoyed look, then opened their mouths and let loose with a piercing shriek that made everyone around them cover their ears. The ogre cried out in pain and dropped to his knees. The twins each kicked out a booted foot that connected with the ogre’s chin with a mighty crack. The ogre’s head snapped back, and he fell backward, unconscious.
“That’ll teach yez to get in a shoutin’ match with a skriker, yez biff,” Ronnie scoffed.
“No time to gloat, sis,” Ginnie declared. “We’re not safe yet.”
The others took that declaration to heart and ran out into the dark alleys with red cap goons struggling to pursue them and Seelie troops amassed throughout the city. It is at this point, good Reader, that I must end the chapter. I know—you desperately want to know what happens next. Well, as narrator, it’s my job to build suspense to make you want to keep reading. Granted, it is unfortunate that at this particular moment you do not have the time to read another full chapter since it is time for your glass spiel lesson (and I must say, your water-filled wineglass rendition of Chopin’s “Heroic Polonaise” is really coming along nicely), but I’m afraid professionalism and narratorial craft demand a cliff-hanger. I’m sure you understand, but I offer my apologies nonetheless.
In which your narrator’s favorite
character finally makes an appearance
criminally late in the story . . .
Shade, Ginch, the Professor, and the Bowser twins barreled through streets, dodging past the few oblivious humans strolling about, ducking into alleys and backstreets, but no matter where they went, always they heard the footfalls, clanks, and cries of either red cap goons or Seelie soldiers. Her heart pounding and lungs and legs aching, Shade at last signaled the others to follow her into a cluttered alley.
As they huddled there, hidden amongst empty barrels and crates, they heard a large group of Seelie troops march past. “Split up,” one of them commanded. “Three crews. Remember: two skrikers, a sprite, a pixie, and a brownie. And keep an eye on the skies in case the sprite takes flight—owl-patterned wings.”
Okay, I know they were after the Bowsers, but how do they know about the rest of us? Shade wondered.
Exhausted and terrified of being caught and arrested, Shade had no answer, but the troops had given her an idea. “Okay,” Shade panted as she struggled to catch her breath, “We’re going to . . . split up . . . huff, huff . . . Bowsers . . . turn invisible . . . get yourselves and . . . your codebook . . . to the library tree . . . huff, huff . . . east of town . . . ”
Ginnie nodded. “We know the way.”
“Here—give oos yez codebook,” Ronnie said. “We’ll get it there safe.”
“It’s already there,” Shade said.
“Is they all there?” Ronnie asked.
Ginch shook his head. “We still gotta the one to go get.”
“Enough talk,” Shade said. “I think the coast is clear. We’ll go one way. You two turn invisible and go another. Don’t worry about us—just get to the library and tell anyone who works there who you are and what you’ve got. That way, even if we get caught, you and the other G.L.U.G.ers can still find the books.”
Ginnie smiled and gave her a wink. “She’s a tough old bird, isn’t she, Ronnie?”
“Actually, Ginnie, I think she’s moor of a bootterfly. And she seems pretty yoong to me, truth be told.”
“I was being metaphorical. I mean, honestly, Ronnie, you’d think—”
“Just get out of here.” Shade stood up. The Bowsers vanished. As soon as the sounds of squishy footfalls faded, Shade turned to her friends. “Come on. This way.”
“That’s-a no good. I say we go this way,” Ginch said, pointing in the opposite direction.
“But the troops marched that way,” Shade said.
“Which means they’re-a no gonna come back this way anytime soon. Trust me—I do the skeedeedle so much I should get-a the Ph.D. in applied skeedeedling.”
The Professor pointed at Ginch and nodded. Then he took out and placed a flat, square mortarboard on Ginch’s head, handed him a piece of parchment that read “Honorary Doctor of Philosophy, University of Streüseldorff,” moved the tassel on the hat from the right side to the left, then shook Ginch’s hand.
Ginch wiped a tear from his eye. “After devoting so much of my life to the skeedeedling, it’s-a so nice to get the recognition that—”
“This way! And try to keep up,” Shade said as she ran in the opposite direction from the way that Ginch had recommended. She heard the other two scramble behind to catch up and smiled to herself both for getting her way and for knowing, deep down, that she was making the right call. And she felt that way right up to the point when she rounded the corner and saw four Seelie officers at the far end of the street.
“Maybe now you trust me to make the skeedeedling decisions,” Shade heard Ginch say behind her. “Quick—in here!”
Shade turned to see Ginch and the Professor running toward one of the few shops that still seemed to be open: a bright red storefront filled with wheels and baskets of cheeses. Written in elegant gold letters on the window was “Wensleydale’s National Cheese Emporium.” She followed them through the door, above which a little silver bell jingled. Behind the counter, the shopkeeper’s chain mail-clad back was to them as he dusted the shelves. “Welcome to Wensleydale’s,” he said without turning. His boredom-filled voice sounded oddly familiar to Shade. “How may I be of service to thee, good cheese enthusiasts?”
“Okay, since he’s-a the human, he should no be able to see or hear us. So we—”
“I know that voice!” The shopkeeper straightened up and whirled around to reveal the handsome, bearded face of the most wonderful, noble, and dashing knight in all of Elfame—a hero far too good to be relegated to supporting character status in such a dreadful tale as this one and to have his entrance buried so late in the story to boot! But then, why should my opinion matter? I’m only an internationally renowned narrator and winner of no less than four Blabby Awards. What do I know? (Actually, quite a lot, I must say!)
“Sir Justinian!” Shade gasped. “What are you doing here? Last time we saw you, you were off to tell the Seelie Court that the Sluagh were abducting human children to raise as warriors.”
The pleasure that had filled Sir Justinian’s face at seeing his old friends vanished. “The ‘good’ King Julius and his ‘wise and honest’ advisors dismissed my claims due to lack of evidence and accused me of trying to undermine the uneasy truce between the Seelie and the Sluagh. What’s more, when I pressed the issue, the vile knaves stripped me of my knighthood and relieved me of my commission in service of the Seelie Court.”
“Why, that’s-a no good!” Ginch shook his head in disgust. “So why you work inna the cheese shop?”
“My half-uncle needed assistance in the shop so he could focus more on the cheese-making. And since I had nothing better to do—”
Through the window, Shade spied Seelie troopers coming toward the shop. “I’m really sorry to cut you off, but you have to hide us! If we get caught, our quest—”
“A quest?” Sir Justinian’s eyes lit up, as Shade hoped they would. “Say no more, my good Lady Shade! Quick, behind the counter with the three of you!”
Shade, Ginch, and the Professor dived back behind the counter and pressed their backs to it. The bell tinkled. “Now try to stay clear of the human,” the lead guardsman said to the other
troopers. “He’ll probably think the wind blew the door open or something and—”
“There’s no wind, good guardsmen,” Sir Justinian said.
“How can—Justinian?” The soldier, whom Shade could not see from behind the counter, sounded shocked. And then amused. “Ha! The great Justinian? So is this the great quest you’ve undertaken since being booted from the service? Well, I must say the cheesemonger’s apron is much better livery for you than—”
A slap sounded. “Hold your tongue, Quaeth. The least of this man’s adventures puts the greatest of your pathetic accomplishments to shame. Sir Justinian, I don’t know if you remember me, but we fought together once at—”
“At the Battle of Whispering Springs. I do remember you, good Sergeant Johandra. You fought honorably and well.”
“I thank you for the compliment, and it’s now Captain Johandra. But I’m afraid I’m not here to exchange compliments. We are in pursuit of dangerous fugitives: two skrikers, leaders of a dangerous criminal organization, and three of their top officers—a brownie, a pixie, and a sprite. If you have seen them, I ask you on your honor as a knight of the Seelie Court to tell us where they are.”
In the brief silence that followed, Shade held her breath and closed her eyes in dread. She trusted and admired Sir Justinian, but his honor had been appealed to, and he was, above all things, an honorable man. What would he do?
“I’m sorry, good Captain Johandra,” Sir Justinian answered, much to Shade’s relief, “but I have seen no such fairies.”
“Very well. I thank you for your time. Good night and fare thee well, good Sir Knight.”
“And fare thee well, good captain.”
The bell sounded once more and Shade, Ginch, and the Professor all exhaled. Ginch smiled and pointed up at Sir Justinian. “’Ey! I no believe it! You make-a the lie to save us.”
Sir Justinian smiled winningly as he threw off his apron and strode across the shop to lock the door. “No lie was told, good Signore Ginch. First, the good captain invoked my honor as a knight of the Seelie Court, which I no longer am. Second, there are no skrikers about the place, unless they are invisible. Third, I was asked if I had seen a criminal sprite, pixie, or brownie, and I know by your fair actions and good hearts that you are no criminals.”
“Actually, they are criminals,” Shade said, to which the Professor nodded, one hand full of cheese that he was about to stuff down his pants, the other full of coins from the cash drawer.
“Yeah, but we’re-a no organized,” Ginch said, to which the Professor whistled and passed him a business card that read “This is to certify that Lucius Theodosius Pinky is a member in good standing of the Greater Elfame Chapter of the Amalgamated Union of Smugglers, Con Artists, Thieves, Cutpurses, Pilferers, and other Assorted Criminal-Type Individuals.” “’Ey, you no tell me you were going to join the union. Now you make-a me look like the scab!”
Sir Justinian put on his blue surcoat with golden lion head rampant and strapped on his sword and scabbard. “Come, friends. Follow me! I have spent many a sleepless night longing for adventure. Grouse! Good, sweet Grouse!” Sir Justinian led them to a back room where his thin, shaggy-haired, teenage squire was stirring a pot of bubbling cheese. “We need no longer languish in comestible exile.”
“But I like it here,” Grouse groused. “I’ve been learning how to make cheese, I’ve got the time and the means to really work on my cooking skills, and right this instant I’m on the verge of creating the perfect cheese fondue mix. The. Perfect. Cheese. Fondue.”
“No time for dairy dillydallying, my faithful sidekick—”
“I’m more of a reluctant squire than a sidekick,” Grouse grumbled.
“—for we have a quest to embark on!”
“A quest? Dingle-dangle it straight to . . . For the love of St. Bartleby, who the—You!” Grouse whipped his long wooden spoon out of the cheese pot and gestured angrily at Shade, Ginch, and the Professor, splattering them with melted cheese. “You three again! I thought you just wanted to find that library.”
“We did,” Shade said. “But now we’re on a book-related quest and—”
“Gah! Stop saying the ‘Q’ word! Do you have any idea what it does to—”
“I’m sorry, good Grouse, but we have no time for good-natured banter—”
“There’s nothing good-natured about this, you—”
“Time is wasting. Hitch up the horse. Fill the cart with our gear, cheese, crates, and barrels. We’ll hide these good fairies in their midst, throw a tarp over them, and smuggle them out of town. From there, it’s onward to—”
“He’s going say ‘adventure,’” Grouse muttered bitterly.
“ADVENTURE!”
Grouse trudged off to do as he was told. “I hate my life . . . ”
In which many library books are
checked out . . .
After a short and bumpy cart ride, Shade found Ginnie Bowser waiting outside the library tree. “Who is that?” Ginnie asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“This is Sir Justinian and Grouse—they’re friends of ours,” Shade explained.
“I’m not,” Grouse grumbled.
“He is when he’s in a better mood,” Shade clarified.
“Which I never am,” Grouse muttered.
“Which he rarely is,” Shade conceded. “Where’s your sister?”
“Haven’t seen her since she turned invisible.” Ginnie snorted. “Ha! Get it? See, if she’s invisible—”
“I get it,” Shade sighed.
“But don’t worry about Ronnie. We Bowsers know how to look after ourselves.”
“That we do,” Ronnie declared as she blinked into view and squished over to them.
“What took so long, Ronnie?” Ginnie asked. “I’ve been here fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Lost me way, Gin, since I couldn’t see where I were gooin’, what with bein’ invisibule and all.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Shade said.
“Makes perfect sense,” Ronnie replied. “Yez see, if yez invisibule, that means yez can’t be seen, so naturally I wouldn’t be able to see me way here.”
“No, but if you are invisible, that doesn’t mean that . . . You know what? I don’t have the energy for this. I’ll find places for everyone to sleep in the library tonight and we can figure out our next move tomorrow morning.”
•
Exhausted from the night’s adventures, Shade slept so late that when she finally awoke, the library was already open and the rest of the staff on the job. “You still work ’ere, Flutterbutt?” Caxton growled as he carried a stack of books past.
Shade had just enough energy to mumble something rude as she continued to the dining hall where everyone else was finishing breakfast. Ginch and the Professor leaned back in their chairs, patted their bellies contentedly, and took turns belching as Grouse, looking pleased for once, enjoyed a bite of a crêpe and Sir Justinian practiced sword-fighting techniques in a far corner. At the center of the table sat Poor Richard with a Bowser twin on either side, Ginnie gazing at him in rapt attention and Ronnie looking rather bored. “My dear, you’re up!” he declared as Shade made a beeline for the coffeepot. “I was just regaling our new arrivals with tales of their dear grandmother, one of the most shrewd and cunning fairies I’ve ever known.”
“Shrewd and cunning—that was our Gran,” Ginnie agreed lovingly.
“Yep,” Ronnie said dully, flicking a blueberry off her plate.
Shade took a swig of her coffee, its heat and pleasant bitterness instantly perking her up. “How’s Martinko?”
Poor Richard’s face dropped. “The poison is slowly progressing, and its nature continues to elude us.”
“I’m sorry. Keep at it. And speaking of keeping at it, we have one more codebook to track down. After telling me about the Bowsers, Martinko said ‘Grigor’s tomb.’”
Poor Richard nodded. “Yes. Grigor Byrrower, our chi
ef archivist. A good fairy—a coblynau from the Hollow Hills—but very solitary and more than a bit paranoid about security, which I’m sure the burning of Alexandria’s library did little to alleviate. Before we went our separate ways, he vowed to protect his book for the rest of his life and forever afterward. I thought he was just being dramatic but now I suspect he actually took it with him into the grave.”
“Where do you think his tomb is?”
“Ah, I anticipated that very question.” The cowlug reached into his jacket and pulled out a map, which he handed to Shade. “The Hollow Hills. No doubt in my mind. From what I remember and based on a little research I did last night, I’ve narrowed things down to four likely mine shafts. Now, exploring all of them will be dangerous—”
“Dangerous? Then why do we sit here idle? Let us be off so that we may spit in the eye of death and tweak the nose of calamity!” Sir Justinian cried, overjoyed. He raised his sword in the air. “Who has the mettle to join the good Lady Shade and myself?”
“Not me,” Grouse grumbled. “I’m staying here.”
“But good Grouse, my squire—”
“Don’t you ‘good Grouse’ me. I’m still in mourning over the fondue I had to leave back in Bilgewater. You try to make me go and you’ll be looking for another squire.”
The Bowser twins looked at each other. “Oot in the coontry?” Ronnie asked. “We’re city fairies, boorn and raised. I’ll pass. Beside, think I’ll goo back to Bilgewater and check on the business.”
“Why?” Ginnie asked. “The criminal organization was just a front. We’re done with it now.”
“Well . . . I need to goo check in on the lads, though, don’t I? We left Yax, Ront, and Thornburgh in an awful tight spot, sis.”
