by Sarah Noffke
Rudolf laughed. “Don’t be absurd. A lynx wouldn’t be allowed to enter this place. We have wards that prevent those pests from coming into Roya Lane.”
“So you think,” Liv muttered.
“Come again?”
Liv shook her head, dismissing him.
“And besides, I could no more accept the word of a lynx than that of a deranged jackrabbit. They each have their own agenda, and rarely is it to tell the truth.”
“Right,” Liv said, drawing out the word.
Rudolf looked Liv over, his eyes lingering a bit too long on her lower half. “Are you sure you don’t have something on you that can tie you to the House of Seven? Maybe a shield with the Beaufont family crest?”
Liv opened her black cape. “Do you see a shield on me anywhere?”
Rudolf combed his hand over his chin. “I don’t know. Maybe you should turn around.”
Liv sighed; this conversation was going to kill all of her brain cells. Then a thought occurred to her and she pulled her mother’s ring from her pocket, the one Ian had given to her. “I have this. Will that work?”
Rudolf’s bright blue eyes widened when he saw the ornate ring with the center diamond and fourteen colorful gems around it. He reached out for it, but Liv pulled it back, giving him an untrusting look.
He dropped his hand and closed his gaping mouth. “Where are my manners? I apologize, Ms. Liv Beaufont. It’s just that it has been so long since I’ve seen that ring. It took me back suddenly.”
It was Liv’s turn to gawk at him. “You’ve seen this ring before? On my mother, Guinevere Beaufont?”
Rudolf shook his head. “No, before her, but I honestly can’t recall the memory. The harder I try, the more I seem to doubt it’s my memory at all. Maybe it was your grandmother who wore it, or your great grandmother, or the one before her.” He shrugged, his face suddenly turning cheery. “Anyway, that’s all the proof I need. I know that to be the Beaufonts’ ring.”
“You’re very old, then?” Liv asked.
“Oh, the fae are the oldest of all magical creatures,” Rudolf stated nobly. “We are older than the elves by at least a century.” He cupped his mouth and leaned in Liv’s direction. “Don’t try telling them that though. They’ll get their tights in a wad.”
“Well, maybe now you’ll direct me to the brownies’ headquarters,” Liv said.
“I’ll do you one better and escort you there myself, Liv Beaufont.” He offered her his arm.
Liv considered taking it but decided it was better not to get too close to the fae. “Directions will do just fine.”
Rudolf laughed, a soft melodic sound that made Liv’s heart palpitate with sudden excitement. “You don’t have to worry about me working my charms on you. It is I who should worry about falling for you, mademoiselle. A Warrior and a Beaufont. I dare say we would make beautiful children together and shake up the magical world at the same time. Oh, I do love a good scandal. Are you game?”
Liv lowered her chin and regarded him with a contemptuous glare. “Are you serious? Was that your attempt to ask me out?”
“That was my attempt to offer you the fruit of my loins and many years of intermittent bliss,” Rudolf clarified, bowing to her.
“Yeah, I’m going to pass, but I still need to know where the brownies’ headquarters is located.”
“Very well, madam,” Rudolf said, rising. “I see that you are a focused individual, and not to be distracted.”
“The headquarters,” Liv nearly barked.
“Follow me.” Rudolf strode off through the crowd, cutting around a group of purplish creatures fighting over a potion bottle. “Do stay close. If I lose you, it might take one of your lifetimes to find me again, and by then I’ll not want to gaze upon you because of your wrinkles.”
“Wow, and you’re single?” Liv asked in mock surprise. “I’m shocked.”
“And here we are.” Rudolf halted, gesturing at a plain brick wall.
“Is this one of those entrances that I can’t see but you and the giants can?” she asked.
“No, I can’t see the door either,” Rudolf explained. “But I know it to be here.”
“Your reasoning is flawed.”
Rudolf laughed good-naturedly. “It’s here, I assure you. Halfway between the Pegasus Corrections Facility and the Unclassified Magical Creatures Office.”
“The what? No, that’s not a thing.”
“It is, though. There are still at least three dozen unclassified magical creatures. Well, that we know of.”
“No, I meant…never mind,” Liv said, waving him off as she studied Roya Lane. It was hard to believe there were so many different offices pertaining to magical creatures on this short, cramped street, and yet that was exactly how magic worked. It made the impossible possible.
“So this entrance? How am I supposed to get through it?” Liv asked, staring at the plain brick wall again.
“You simply declare who you are and state your business,” Rudolf explained. “If you’re granted access, the door will appear.”
“Where can I get a door like this one?” Liv joked.
Rudolf apparently didn’t think that was funny because he simply blinked at her dully.
“Oh, fine,” she said, standing close to the wall. She felt like an idiot. “Liv Beaufont, Warrior of the House of Seven, is here to discuss cleaning regulations with the head brownie or brownie president or whatever your leader is called.”
“Mortimer,” Rudolf said.
“Huh?” Liv looked at him sideways.
“Mortimer is the Prime Minister of the brownies.”
“Right,” Liv said, turning back to the wall. “Liv Beaufont, Warrior of the House of Seven, here to see Mortimer.”
“State your business,” Rudolf cut in.
“So I can impose regulations set down by the Council of the House of Seven.”
Nothing happened.
Liv’s brow scrunched.
“It doesn’t appear that Mortimer is willing to discuss such business today,” Rudolf said, looking around. “Shall we go split a bottle of cherry wine and undress each other with our eyes?”
Liv ignored the fae and looked at the wall again. “Liv Beaufont, Warrior of the House of Seven, here to see Mortimer so that we can discuss the agreement between the brownies and the magicians.”
Still no door appeared.
Liv looked at Rudolf and scowled. “If I find out that you have been joking with me by making me talk to a dumb wall, I’ll mess up your hair and spread rumors that you’re an awful kisser.”
Rudolf gawked at her with disgust. “I have met some wicked Warriors in my time, but you, Liv Beaufont, are a new breed of evil.”
She winked at him. “You have no idea.” Turning back to the wall, she tried one more time. “Hey there, Mortimer. It’s Liv Beaufont again. I was thinking that we could pretend to discuss boring House politics, but really I want to set up a mutual partnership. You know, an ‘I scratch your back and you scratch mine’ sort of thing?”
“Eww, you do realize that brownies are awfully hairy and probably never wash their backsides properly? Now my back, you’re welcome to scratch and rub for hours,” Rudolf offered.
“It’s an expression,” Liv told him. “And I’d rather take a bath with a gnome than touch your unclothed body.”
“Methinks that implies you’d like to touch my clothed body.” Rudolf gave her a wolfish grin. “I get that you must take things slowly, but I beseech you to not waste too much time since you have only a few hundred years left compared to me.”
Liv rolled her eyes, turning back to the brick wall. She was about to give up when an arched door only three feet tall appeared.
“Well, it looks like they’ve accepted the invitation you’ve thrust upon them,” Rudolf said.
Chapter Ten
“How am I supposed to fit through that door?” Liv asked, pointing.
“Your hips are a bit meaty, but I think we can wedge you through the doo
rway,” Rudolf said, holding out his hands. “I’ll push from the rear end.”
Liv held up a finger. “If you so much as look at my ass, I’ll break that little button nose of yours.”
Rudolf cupped his hands over his nose. “So many threats. What makes you so hostile, my lady?”
“Jerks with big wings and small—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” he said, cutting her off as he clapped his hands to his ears.
Liv shook him off and turned her attention to the small door. She could fit through it, but she wasn’t going to look graceful doing it. Turning the handle, she pushed it open and peered through. A long, nondescript hallway led to a door at the end. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the area smelled like an old lunchbox.
“I’m going in,” Liv said, pulling her head back out of the door.
“Let me know if you want a push,” Rudolf said, holding out his hands.
“Let me know if you want a black eye,” she sang back.
He laughed as she put her head through the door and worked to crawl through. “You are quite delightful with your jokes, Liv Beaufont. We should have a drink sometime.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Liv called back dismissively.
“Until we meet again.”
“Hopefully later rather than sooner,” she said, edging forward on her elbows and knees. There was a tacky substance on the floor inside the headquarters and she stuck to the dirty tile. Once she was through the door, it closed automatically, leaving her alone to look down the short hallway.
The sconces on the walls flickered like the bulbs were going bad and a loud banging sound radiated from the far end of the corridor.
Liv tried to stand but had to stay hunched so as not to hit her head on the ceiling, which was covered in spider webs. Brownies might take it upon themselves to clean the houses of mortals they admired, but ironically, they didn’t appear to keep their own place very tidy.
When she’d come to the door on the far end, Liv knocked. The banging stopped.
“Come in,” a squeaky voice called.
Liv opened the door and peered through to find a small, cramped office piled high with books and papers. They covered the desk on the opposite side of the room and were stacked from floor to ceiling all around it. Behind the desk sat a portly brownie who wore a disheveled suit and was holding a green foam ball. His skin was dark and withered, and gray hair sprouted from his large ears and nose.
“Hi. Liv Be—”
“I know who you are,” the fairy said, waving her in. “That was why I opened the door. Now get in here so I can resume my game.”
Game? Liv wondered, looking around. She didn’t know what Mortimer meant, but no sooner had she closed the door than he threw the ball in his hand at the wall beside her, nearly hitting her in the head. It bounced back, landing firmly in his squat hand.
“Four-hundred and sixty-two,” he squeaked and threw the ball again. “Four-hundred and sixty-three.”
Liv stared for a moment as the ball streaked from his hand to the wall and back, watching it like a cat does a trailing string.
“Well, go on then, Liv Beaufont, Warrior of the House of Seven, and take a seat,” Mortimer said, catching the ball and throwing it again.
Liv looked at the chair he’d offered her, which was like something a preschooler would sit in. Keeping her head down, she made her way over to the chair and precariously took a seat.
“Would you like some candy?” Mortimer asked, placing the ball on the surface of his desk, which was covered in yellow paper, among other things. He pushed a dish of something that looked like brittle in her direction, and she got the distinct scent of peanuts.
“No, I lost my appetite talking to that fae out there,” she said, indicating the door.
He nodded, seeming to understand at once. “Now, what brings you here, my child?”
Liv eyed the stack of books closest to her, wondering if they were about to teeter over and fall on her head. She pulled her attention back to the brownie. “Well, I was assigned to come here to impose new regulations on you.”
“But…” the elf said, his bottom lip jerking to the side.
“Well, brownies have been cleaning mortal’s houses for a long time, right?”
“Since the very beginning,” he answered.
“And suddenly the House wants to restrict which homes you clean and manage the process?” Liv began. “Does that make any sense to you?”
“Well, the House isn’t satisfied unless they oversee all things, even ones they have no right to interfere with,” Mortimer answered. “But to answer your question, I’m not so sure. We’ve had no special regulations imposed on us for quite some time.”
“Do you remember the last time, and the circumstances surrounding it?”
He thought, winding the hair from his ear around his finger. “I can’t recall, honestly.” He looked at the mountain of paperwork around the desk. “It might be in one of these records, but I think we’re better off burning them all and starting over. Can’t find a damn thing in this place anymore.”
“Ummm, have you thought of having a brownie come in to help you organize and clean the place?”
Mortimer shot her a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious? One of my brownies?”
“Well, their job is to clean, and I just thought—”
“Our job isn’t to clean.” Mortimer stood, his height not changing at all. “That is our passion. We do it out of love. Out of loyalty. It is my job to assign work and monitor it, and intervene when necessary, but cleaning is not part of a job. And how could I ask one of my loyal subjects to spend their energy on me when it isn’t me they worship, but rather the noble mortals who slave away all day at thankless jobs and drag themselves home to bed, usually too tired to clean the sink full of dishes. Oh, no, this is my mess, and therefore my responsibility. But alas, I’m too busy to do the job.”
Yeah, too busy, Liv thought, eyeing the ball sitting on his desk.
“Well, my house could use some help,” Liv stated. “Maybe a brownie will worship me.”
“You aren’t a mortal. Magicians don’t need our help because they can rely on their magic,” Mortimer said. “But your friend John is a nice fellow.” He picked up a piece of paper from the mess and read it silently for a second. “A noble fellow with strong moral convictions. Hard-working. Kind. Good to his employees.”
“Employee,” Liv corrected, surprised that Mortimer could find nothing in the office but had pulled that report straight from the desk.
“And he pets his dog first thing upon entering his dwelling,” Mortimer continued, reading from the paper.
“So John gets his house cleaned?” Liv asked. “I guess that’s at least something.”
“Well, I’m deciding whether his shop should be included. He has a brownie who is quite taken with him and would like to extend his services to include more.”
“Just as long as they don’t reorganize my tools,” Liv stated. “I have a system.”
“So, you, Liv Beaufont, Warrior of the House of Seven, aren’t here to force more rules upon me?”
Liv thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Let’s say I did and then I won’t.”
“What if your Council were to find out about this?”
“I’m pretty certain they just gave me the case to keep me out of their hair, but let’s pretend that you agreed. Once I leave here, you can operate as you were, and I’ll act the fool if they confront me about it.”
Mortimer took a seat again in his chair. “I’ve never met a Warrior such as yourself. You don’t seem to have any loyalty to the House.”
“Oh, I do. I just don’t see the point in useless regulations. Why is it our business how you do your job…I mean, fulfill your passion?”
“So how may I scratch your back, then?”
“There are a couple of things, actually,” Liv began, formulating different ideas in her head. “Brownies are in a position to see and hear a lot, corr
ect?”
“Oh, yes. We are always in the shadows, unseen.”
“I thought so,” Liv said triumphantly. “I was hoping that you could spread the word to your brownies to have them watch out for a canister of magic.”
“Canister of magic, you say?”
“Yes. It went missing recently, and I’m not sure where it was sent.”
“And why do you think that it would be in a mortal’s possession?” Mortimer asked.
“I don’t,” Liv answered. “That’s just the thing. I have no idea where it might be. However, it can’t hurt to have your people keeping an eye out.”
“And in return, you will leave us alone and allow us to operate as we have?”
“Well, I might also have a few more favors to ask of you,” Liv hedged.
“Like what?” Mortimer snapped a piece of the brittle off and took a bite.
“Well, for instance, do you know why magic would be protecting a giant’s sword in a mortal-run museum?” Liv asked, deciding she had better trust Mortimer if she wanted more information. Even if he told anyone about her questions, she wasn’t sure what harm it would do. She was simply investigating.
“Mortals don’t have magic,” Mortimer finally stated after taking a long moment to chew. “It must have been magicians who put the wards on the sword.”
“That was my thought,” Liv said. “I just don’t understand why.”
Mortimer took another bite of the brittle, looking thoughtful. “I think there is much about this situation that you don’t understand. I’ll have my brownies keep out an eye for the canister and information on the sword and think more about it. Will that suffice for our agreement? It is getting on to nap time.”
Liv nodded, standing and hitting her head on the low ceiling. “Yes. I’ll be in touch with you to see if you find any information.”
Mortimer picked a piece of candy out of his yellow teeth. “No, it is we who will notify you.”
“How?” Liv asked.
“We brownies have our ways. Look for a message from us.”
Chapter Eleven
