by Jane Yolen
“Listen, I’ll … I’ll let you know when I’m playing round here next.” He grinned shyly at her, more like a sixteen year old than a mature man.
She bit her lower lip, doubting either one of them wanted to see the other again. Not with that age difference. “Sure.”
Then she watched as he gunned the motorcycle and headed off down the road. The sound of his bike was the only thing she could hear on the mountain for a long time. But once it faded, everything went silent again.
“Who was that man?” Nicky whispered. “Will he come back for us?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Nicky. But it’s okay. Mom and Dad will be here soon. With the police.”
She thought briefly of the article she’d write for class once she’d had a good night’s sleep. The opening line was already firmly in her head: The piper caught sight of the river long before the sound of rushing water reached his ears or the salt smell of blood struck his nose. Shaking her head, she scolded herself. No one would believe such a thing. She’d have to call it fiction. A fiction made up entirely of fact. Was there a word for that? Faction, maybe?
Then, sitting down with Nicky, Jason Piatt, little Jodie Ryan, Josee and Alison, the Napier kids, and the rest, she waited for someone to come and get them and take them the rest of the way home.
28 · And After
It was the evening of yet another warm spring day in Faerie and Gringras sat with his good friend Alabas on a small rise overlooking a field.
The field no longer sprouted purple and red flowers, nor did feylings hover over it breathing in the sustaining aroma bouquet. The Unseelie war had flattened the field into dried mud and the feylings had been replaced by a gaggle of gray-faced children who followed Gringras wherever he went, muttering accusations at his back.
“Well, you got your wish, your majesty,” Alabas said. “Though I warned the little reporter that one must be careful about what one wishes for.”
Pulling a well-chewed wheat stalk out of his mouth, Gringras replied, “I should have remembered that myself.” For he had gotten his wish: Wynn had died in the war, run through by an Unseelie sword, and Gringras was now heir to the throne.
“I miss my brothers, Alabas,” he said and Alabas nodded in sympathy. “And I miss earth.”
“What?” Alabas cried out, shocked.
Gringras nodded. “That’s right. The dirt, the noise, the pain.” He looked at the gray children stomping rusty swords and armor into the mud in the field below him. “I miss it all—its energy, charge, and challenge. Even this Faerie war is but a pale shadow of earth wars. Did you know I have not written any new songs since our return?”
“S’truth?”
“Not a verse, not a chorus, not a single line. Nothing.” Gringras stood and dusted himself off. “We spent too much time amongst them, Alabas. It has ruined me for Faerie.”
“This feeling will pass.”
“Perhaps,” Gringras said and shrugged. “But if it does not—and soon—then I think we shall have to visit mortal lands again.”
“I hope you are joking, my lord.”
“I never joke anymore, either.” Gringras stood, and turned his back on the field. Then, as the sun set on another warm spring day in Faerie, he marched back to his father’s castle, his one true friend and a horde of ghostly children following close behind.
Brass Rat Songs
UNDER THE HILL
Under the hill, under the stone,
No one can touch me for I am alone,
No one can reach me, no one can dare,
No one can love me, and I do not care.
I do not care, for I am a stone,
No one can touch me, for I am alone.
Shadows behind me, shadows ahead,
Shadows inside me, the quick and the dead.
No one beside me, no one can see
I am alone with the shadow of me.
But I do not care, for I am a stone,
No one can touch me, for I am alone.
Do not be sorry, do not bemoan,
I do not care, for I am a stone,
I am a boulder, I am a crag,
I am a mountain, a massif, a slag.
And I do not care, for I am a stone,
No one can touch me, for I am alone.
OUT OF THE DARKNESS
Out of the darkness and into the light,
We search for a chance to get into the fight.
Out of the starkness of love gone awry
We mumble and stumble, set wings—and then fly.
For no one knows our pain
No sympathy, no gain,
And here we come, here we come
Out of the darkness
Again.
Out of the blackness and into the dawn,
Blink at the light as the nighttime is gone.
Out of the blankness of awe-filled despair
We look for a sign that there’s somebody there.
But no one knows our pain
No sympathy, no gain,
And here we come, here we come
Out of the darkness
Again.
Out of the shadows and out of the shade,
Out of the miserable life we have made,
Glaring the sun down, and daring eclipse,
Hoping mortality offers its lips.
Hoping someone knows our pain
And with sympathy comes gain,
So here we come, here we run
Out of the darkness
Again.
PAY THE PIPER
So you say you wanna dance all night,
Dark to light,
You wanna shake your soul,
Find a friend, pay a toll.
So you say you wanna dance all night,
Take a bite
Of life’s bitter fruit,
Whatever will suit.
If the music enchants you, enhances your mind,
Fine.
I’ll play along, I’ll sing the song,
Then you can dance all night, all night long.
So you say you wanna dance all night,
Mind in flight,
Soar above the room,
The dark, the gloom.
So you say you wanna dance all night,
Fly not fight,
Keep above the fire,
Fly high then higher.
If the music enchants you, enhances your mind,
Fine.
I’ll play along, I’ll sing the song,
Then you can dance all night, all night long.
So you say you wanna dance all night,
Make wrong right,
Win the faerie prince,
Make the dragon mince,
So you say you wanna dance all night,
Ogres smite,
You wanna wave the wand,
Time and troubles gone.
If the music enchants you, enhances your mind,
Fine.
I’ll play along, I’ll sing the song,
Then you can dance all night, all night long.
But when daylight comes at last,
You’d better pay the piper fast
Or all you’ve wished the whole night through
Will turn and take a bite of you!
RATTER
Ratter, ratter, mad as a hatter
I’ll trap you, I’ll zap you,
I’ll slap you in the hall,
And it won’t matter,
No, it won’t matter,
No, it won’t matter at all.
Hands down, or I’ll swallow you whole,
Hands up, you gotta do as you’re told …
Give me money or I’ll take your soul,
Ratter!
Make a ring, or make yourself sing,
Make yourself a bodach or a fairy king,
I’ll make you do any g-d thing,
Ratter!
Dance all morning, dance all night,
&n
bsp; Dance into darkness or into the light,
You can never beat me in a fair fight,
Ratter!
Ratter, ratter, mad as a hatter
I’ll trap you, I’ll zap you,
I’ll slap you in the hall,
And it won’t matter,
No, it won’t matter,
No, it won’t matter at all.
GREEN IN THE BOWER
Green in the haven,
Green in the bower,
Green in the wide wold world all over.
The loveliest color that ever is seen.
In haven, in bower, is green green green.
Green is the heaven,
Green is the flower,
Green in the music the wide world over.
The loveliest color that ever is seen,
Is heaven, is power, is green green green.
Green in the grass tops,
Green in the fern,
Green in the growing,
The aching, the yearn,
Green in the leaf tips,
Green in the lawn,
Everyone’s green
Till the moment they’re gone.
Green is the hymning
Green is the power
Green is the living the wide world over.
Green is forgiving, for glamour, for seem,
The loveliest color is green green green green.
EXILE
Time and place mean nothing if you can’t call them home.
Born of man and woman, you do not walk alone.
Me, I stalk the darkness, each solitary mile
Apart but not far distant—Exile.
Life and love mean little if you can’t find a mate,
Immortality is but another word for fate.
I’ve never had a woman and I’ve never had a child,
Apart but not far distant—Exile.
Far off the rushing river sends out its serpent call,
The purple hills of Faerie, I still dream of them all.
When will I smell the heather, or again hear Faerie song?
I’ve nowhere now to love and I have nowhere I belong.
Time and place mean nothing if you have a fear of death.
Think too much of living and you cannot take a breath.
Think too much of weeping and you find you cannot smile,
Apart but not far distant—Exile.
GLAMOUR
I put the glamour on this space,
Transforming every human face,
And leaving nothing left to trace
When morning finally comes.
I put the magic on this spot
So what you see and think you’ve got,
And what you fear is what is not,
When morning finally comes.
When morning comes
The mundane morn
When magic is
No longer worn.
When morning comes,
The killer dawn
When spells are done
And magic gone
So stand upon my sacred ground
For what you hold’s not what you’ve found,
And to this glamour you’ll be bound
When morning finally comes.
STONE (NEVER RECORDED)
Unmoving, unchanging, a statue alone,
No wind nor weather, can alter the stone.
For stone cannot weep, and stone cannot feel,
Emotions are left to the mortal and real.
About the Authors
Jane Yolen is one of the most distinguished and successful authors for young readers and adults in the country. She is the author of more than 200 books—including Briar Rose, Sister Light, Sister Dark, Owl Moon, and the immensely popular The Devil’s Arithmetic. Her books have won awards including the Caldecott Medal, two Nebula Awards, the World Fantasy Award, the Jewish Book Award, and two Christopher Medals. She lives in Hatfield, Massachusetts. You can sign up for email updates here.
A working rock-and-roll guitarist in bands such as the Tim Malloys, Cats Laughing, and Boiled in Lead, Adam Stemple has collaborated with his mother Jane Yolen on several music books for children, including The Laptime Song and Play Book and Hark! A Christmas Sampler. You can sign up for email updates here.
FORTHCOMING FROM STARSCAPE
Troll Bridge: A Rock ’n’ Roll Fairy Tale
Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
From the Authors
Epigraph
1. River of Blood
2. Family Jokes
3. Talent
4. At the Concert
5. Ratter
6. Talk Is Cheap
7. Interview
8. Exile
9. More Curses
10. Souls
11. Homework
12. Tricks or Treats
13. Casting
14. Eight O’Clock Warning
15. The Guardian and the Flower
16. Missing
17. A Death in the Family
18. Music Man
19. Resurrection
20. Trail of Sweets
21. Reunion
22. Trail of Tears
23. Story Time
24. Into Faerie
25. Curses
26. Revenge
27. The Buying of Freedom
28. And After
Brass Rat Songs
About the Authors
Forthcoming from Starscape
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.
PAY THE PIPER: A ROCK ’N’ ROLL FAIRY TALE
Copyright © 2005 by Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple
All rights reserved.
A Starscape Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.starscapebooks.com
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
First Edition: July 2005
eISBN 9780765386656
First eBook edition: June 2015
