As he watched Dr. Occult cross the stream, Tim’s heart started to thump. Would he remember all the rules? Were they really going to Fairyland? And would he make it back out again—that was the bigger, underlying worry, too big to even think about. Tim shook off the idea before it could settle into his brain and scramble it.
He heard Yo-yo’s flapping wings above him, and was glad to have the bird along as company. “Yo-yo, why are we doing this?” He looked up at the bird. “I guess you’re kind of along for the ride. Where I go you go, right?”
The bird circled his head.
“Okay, then, why am I doing this? Anyone with half an ounce of sense would have told them all to bugger off at the beginning.”
Dr. Occult gave the signal, a short wave, without turning to face Tim.
“Oh, well,” Tim said. “Too late to back out now.” He looked up at the bird and shrugged. “No one’s ever accused me of having any sense anyway.”
Tim hurried along the path Dr. Occult had taken. Not wanting to make any mistakes, he even went so far as to put his feet into Dr. Occult’s large and muddy footprints. He made it down to the stream.
“Here goes.” He carefully crossed the little stream, glad that his shoes had rubber soles to help him grip the slippery rocks. Don’t get your feet wet, he reminded himself. I suppose they don’t have door mats where we’re going, and they don’t want us to track in mud.
Tim came up behind Dr. Occult, who still hadn’t moved. His hand was on the gate. Yo-yo landed on one of its posts.
“I’m here. Uh…Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“Constantine said we were going to Fairyland. He was kidding, wasn’t he?”
“We travel through the Fair Lands, child. Call them Avalon, or Elvenhome, or Faerie. It matters not. It is the land of Summer’s Twilight.”
“Oh.” Tim wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse—or just weirder. “So when do we go there?”
“Look behind you.”
Tim’s heart pounded as he slowly turned around to face the way they had come.
The landscape had changed. The apple tree, the cable wires, the path, the stream—all had vanished. He gazed at a glittering sunrise over a crystal-clear lake, only the purples and pinks were paler than he’d seen in any sunrise, softer and all-encompassing.
“We have already left your world,” Dr. Occult said. “This wooden gate exists in both worlds—here and there.”
“You mean, people can just cross over like that?” Tim asked.
“There are many places common to more than one plane,” Dr. Occult explained. “They are accessible to those who know the path to walk.”
“Um, I see. I think. Where do we go now?”
“Through the gate. And once through it, you may notice a few changes.”
Tim gulped. More changes? Could he take any more? “Like what?”
“You’ll see.”
Dr. Occult swung open the little wooden gate. Together he and Tim walked through it. When they came out the other side, Tim stared at Dr. Occult. He had turned into a she!
“Dr. Occult?” Tim gaped at the woman standing beside him. She was tall, with short, straight brown hair. Her angular face was pretty but plain. She wore no makeup, and her clothes were simple—a jacket, a blouse, a skirt. She would have looked at home in an office, rather than a magical kingdom. “Is that what you really look like?”
“No. I am no longer Dr. Occult, although we share certain purposes in common. He is himself as I am me, but I am still your guide.”
“I don’t understand.” Tim couldn’t stop staring, even though he knew it was rude and that he’d been warned to have good manners in this place.
“Dr. Occult and I represent different aspects of a single entity. Male and female. Anima and animus.”
Like in the cards that Madame X had read, Tim realized. A man in touch with his feminine side. Here was Dr. Occult’s feminine side—in the flesh. What else had that card predicted? Oh yeah. That it could represent several women connected to his safety and identity. Zatanna was probably part of that card too.
“These are things we all carry within ourselves. In this world, I prefer to highlight the female.”
“What’s your—” Tim was about to ask the woman, who used to be Dr. Occult, what her name was, but then he remembered the rules. “I mean, please, what are you called?”
“Find a name for me,” the woman challenged.
“Find one?” Tim asked.
“That’s right.”
“A name? Yours?” Tim was confused.
“It’s a test, of sorts,” the woman said.
“I bet it’s bloody Rumpelstiltskin,” Tim muttered under his breath. They strolled in silence for a little while. How am I supposed to guess her name? Or make one up for her? His eye was drawn to a rosebush by the side of the path. They were enormous, beautiful, and the scent wafted their way, filling Tim with a sudden inspiration. He faced the woman. “Rose,” he announced. “I’ll call you Rose.”
The woman looked startled, then smiled. “That’s good, Tim. And fast. The Stranger was right. You have the potential for power.”
Tim was pleased that he’d passed this first round, yet didn’t understand what the big deal was about giving her a name. Or maybe, rather than giving her a name, he had guessed it.
“So we’re there?” Tim asked, looking around.
“We have arrived in the realm of Faerie, yes.”
Dr. Occult, now Rose, led Tim and Yo-yo through a beautiful wooded area. The dirt path was soft under Tim’s feet, and the trees glistened in the sunlight—brighter even than Zatanna’s living room in California. Flowers that Tim had never seen before dotted the road. Every now and then he spotted colorful creatures flitting in and out of leaves and bushes. Birds? He wondered. No, their movements were too quick. Butterflies, maybe. But butterflies didn’t giggle, and he was certain he heard the tinkling sound of something tiny laughing.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of flowers, of hopes, of possibilities. If wishing has a smell, Tim thought, this is it.
Yo-yo flew overhead, his yellow eyes darting about, taking in every stray movement in the foliage around them. To Tim, the bird seemed happy, alert, more…itself somehow. Maybe because Yo-yo was made of magic, he reasoned, Faerie seemed more like home.
“So where are we off to?” Tim asked. He wondered if Dr. Occult—Rose—had a destination in mind, or if they were just setting off to see what adventure would jump out and snatch them. Right now, Tim felt game for anything. He liked what he’d seen of Faerie so far. It was true that all he had seen so far was pretty landscape, but there was a feeling here that made his chest expand, made his limbs swing. It was the giddiness of anticipation.
Rose pulled aside some low branches and gestured for Tim to step through.
“What are we going to do now?” he asked.
“We are going to market!” Rose replied.
Tim ducked down and stepped between the shrubs. He came out at the edge of a meadow—a meadow filled with amazing sights, sounds, and smells.
Colorful booths dotted the grass, and creatures of all description strolled among them. Tables strewn with goods, elves wearing sandwich boards advertising wares, and goblins carrying trays filled with strange objects all competed for attention. Rough wood picnic tables were set up, and a large roasting pit emitted great puffs of delicious-smelling smoke. Serving maids—with delicate transparent wings—darted between customers, filling and refilling glasses with colorful liquids.
“Awesome!” Tim tried to look everywhere at once, until he realized that would only give him a headache. Everywhere he turned there was a vision out of a fairy tale, an illustration from a fantasy book!
“’Ere, you! Young feller-me-lad! Come ’ere!”
Tim looked to see who had called to him. He spotted a booth where a strange creature, with skin the color of a wheat stalk and just as fuzzy, waved a skinny, long-fingered hand. Tim figur
ed there’d be no harm in checking out the creature’s wares. He knew not to buy anything. He’d just window-shop, or rather, counter-shop.
Tim stepped over to the booth. Yo-yo fluttered down and perched on his shoulder. He patted the bird’s talons, smiling. Yo-yo wanted to window-shop too.
Now that Tim was closer, he could see that the creature was much smaller than he had realized—just four feet high. Its pointed ears poked through wispy silver hair.
“I’ll swap you your heart’s desire fer a year of yer life.”
Tim stared at the creature. It must be kidding. How could it be offering to sell someone his heart’s desire?
“No?” The creature stroked its stubbly cheeks. “I’ll trade for yer voice, then. Or the color of yer eyes.”
Tim had to force himself not to laugh. It seemed so…so…ludicrous. Fantastic. Bizarre. How could he possibly give away the blue of his eyes? And why would anyone want it? Who knew there was a market for such things?
Tim remembered Dr. Occult’s instructions, before he had turned into Rose: manners mattered.
“No, thank you,” he said politely. “But thanks for thinking of me.”
But the creature wouldn’t quit. “One of your fingers, then. You’ve got ten of the little buggers.” He waved a hand at Tim, and Tim realized the Faerie creature only had four fingers on its hand. “You’ll never miss one. It’s yer heart’s desire I’m offerin’, ducky. None of yer tat.” The creature sighed as if it was about to make a huge sacrifice. “All right,” it grumbled. “Two toes. And six months of yer old age for your heart’s desire. And that’s me final offer.”
“No, thanks,” Tim said. “But thank you, anyway.”
Rose stepped up to join them. The creature ignored her and continued to talk to Tim. “I can tell you’ve come a long way, dearie. Here. Let me give you a flask of my best berryjuice for yer journey.”
Rose spoke before Tim could respond. “We must thank you for the offer, mistress, but also decline it.”
So the creature was female. It was hard for Tim to tell.
“The boy is under my protection,” Rose explained. “We cannot dally amongst the Fair Folk.”
“Fair spoken,” said the creature. “I wish you good traveling, and that’s for free.”
“Hey!” Tim cried out as Yo-yo made a sharp sudden movement. He fluttered off Tim’s shoulder, swerved, and swooped behind Tim.
“Ger off!” shouted a small creature kneeling behind Tim. Yo-yo dug his talons into the creature’s hand—a hand that was reaching for Tim’s pocket.
“What’s going on?” Rose asked.
The creature froze, then fell over. “This bird of yours attacked me! I demand compensation!”
Chapter Nine
TIM STARED DOWN AT the little creature who lay moaning in agony on the ground.
The creature sniveled and groaned, clutching its hand. Tim had no idea what kind of critter it was—it didn’t look like pictures he’d seen of elves or fairies, and it certainly didn’t look like the garden gnomes in his neighbor’s dismal yard. It was small and wiry, covered in yellowish fur. It wore only a leather vest and short medieval-looking knickers. But what most tripped Tim up in identifying the creature was its long tail thrashing along the ground, kicking up dirt. A bracelet lay in the dirt nearby.
“Ooooooh,” the creature moaned. “That is a terrible, dangerous beast. Attacking me without warning! It shouldn’t roam free!”
“Yo-yo,” Rose said, addressing the owl. “Is this true?”
“Whoo!” Yo-yo responded, flying to Rose’s outstretched fingers.
“Is that so?” Rose said to Yo-yo. Tim stared at them. Could Rose actually understand what Yo-yo was saying?
Rose turned to the little creature. “The owl tells me that you were trying to put that bracelet into Timothy’s pocket. The bird saw you, and stopped you.”
Tim frowned in confusion. Why would the little creature put a bracelet into his pocket? What would it gain? Pickpockets usually took things out of people’s pockets—not put them in. It didn’t make sense.
“Rubbish!” the creature protested. “It was an unprovoked attack!” It scrambled up into a crouch, tucking its tail around itself. It grabbed the bracelet and shoved it onto its skinny arm. “But I have thought better of demanding compensation, and will be content to let the matter rest here.”
“You may be,” Rose countered, “but I am not. Where is the warden of the market?”
The creature rubbed its hands together over and over. “Oh, don’t bother Old Glory with this,” it said, its voice oozy. “Glory hates to be bothered with market affairs.”
“Market affairs are Glory’s business, Snout.” A bespectacled man stepped through the crowd. He was dressed in mismatching old-fashioned clothes: a long blue velvet jacket over purple velvet trousers, a ruffled white shirt with a bow tie, a green velvet vest, and shoes that buttoned up the sides. His gray hair was thick, as were the gray muttonchop sideburns that covered half his face. But other than the slight point to his ears, the man looked pretty much human to Tim. Much more so than little Snout, whose tail was thrashing again.
“As warden, market traders are my affairs as well,” Glory continued. He glared down at Snout, who sat at the man’s feet, wringing his hands.
Glory crossed his arms over his chest. “Here is what I see,” he surmised. “You would have planted the bracelet in the child’s pocket, waited until he was about to leave the market, then shouted ‘Stop, thief!’”
So that had been Snout’s plan, Tim thought. The scheme made some sense. In the strange worlds he was visiting, anything was possible. Tim suspected that logic as he knew it was gone forever.
Glory went on detailing what he believed to have been Snout’s con game. “And as the wronged party, you would have been entitled to keep the boy as your personal servant for seventy years. And to claim restitution from his companions into the bargain.”
Tim gulped. They took stealing really seriously here. He was relieved that the warden knew he hadn’t stolen the jewelry. Dr. Occult—Rose—was right. He had to stay on his toes and follow the rules in this place.
Snout wriggled his way up to standing, tugging on Glory’s trousers to do so. “Er, Lord Glory—”
“Silence!” Glory waved a hand.
Tim’s eyes widened in shock. Snout’s mouth vanished! Clearly, Glory didn’t kid around when he wanted someone to shut up. Tim knew he’d remember that bit of information as well.
Glory bent down so he could grip Snout’s shoulder, as if he suspected the creature would run away. “I regret that Snout’s action has tarnished the name of the market,” he said to Tim. “You may claim restitution.”
Tim almost felt sorry for Snout, until he remembered that he had narrowly missed being the creature’s servant for the next seventy years.
“Lead us to your barrow,” Glory ordered Snout.
Tim felt as if all eyes were on them as they left the market. They followed a narrow path into the woods and soon arrived at a small hill. Snout brushed aside leaves and shrubs, revealing a small wooden door. He pulled a key out of a vest pocket, inserted it, and opened the door into the hillside.
Tim, Rose, and Glory all had to crouch in order to step through the little door. It was a tight fit inside. The place was filled with junk: broken furniture, boxes, crates, chests, odds and ends. A little stove, table, and chair were set in one corner, and a bed was dug into the dirt wall, like a bunk. The rest was just…stuff.
“Now then, Snout,” ordered Glory. “You have wronged this boy and the owl. As market warden, here is my judgment. Each may take, for free and without obligation, one item from your barrow.”
Tim looked up at Rose. “Can I?” he asked. He wanted to be sure he was allowed to do this. He had already learned that there were surprising consequences in Faerie.
“Yes,” she replied.
Yo-yo fluttered to a coatrack standing haphazardly at an angle by the door. Several necklaces and sca
rves dangled from it. The owl caught up a silvery chain in his talons and flew to Lord Glory.
Lord Glory nodded, as if giving the bird permission. “Of course,” he said to Yo-yo. “If that is what you want.” He turned to Tim. “Now you, mortal child.”
Tim didn’t know what to take. The room was stuffed with oddities. He could have spent days here, exploring, examining, finding out what everything was, how it worked. But he knew he shouldn’t dawdle.
He stepped carefully deeper into the crowded barrow, trying to not knock anything over. He noticed a fancy-looking book, but didn’t pick it up. A shining sphere rotating slowly on a brass stand caught his eye, but he decided against it. He spotted a weird little gnome statue that might make Molly laugh. As he reached over a table to take it, his hand tingled. Startled, Tim dropped his arm to his side. He reached again, and the same thing happened, just as his fingers passed over a sturdy little teapot.
Funny, he thought. It’s as if the teapot is trying to tell me something. He lifted the teapot from its spot. It was a lot heavier than it looked. Opening it, Tim discovered why.
Inside, there was a glowing egg. Tim lifted it out. “Can I have this?” he asked.
“A Mundane Egg,” Lord Glory said, surprised. “Well, well. Who’d have thought that our Snout would have such a thing? And hidden amongst trinkets.”
“Hidden in plain sight?” Tim ventured, remembering the phrase of Zatanna’s.
“Could say so. You chose well, boy. Luck—or something similar—is on your side.” Lord Glory stroked his fluffy sideburns. “A Mundane Egg. Who’d have thought it? When I return your mouth to you, Snout, we must discuss this at length.”
Rose carefully wrapped the necklace chain around Yo-yo’s neck. “We will leave this place now, Lord Glory,” she said. “With your permission.”
“Of course, my lady. Good-bye. And good-bye, child. Guard the egg.”
“’Bye,” Tim replied. He glanced down at the egg in his hand. It was shinier and heavier than the kind he scrambled at home, but he couldn’t see why Lord Glory was making such a fuss over it. And didn’t “mundane” mean ordinary? Still, he took care when he placed it in his pocket. After all, an egg was an egg, mundane or not. He didn’t want to smash it in his jeans and wind up drippy with yolk.
The Invitation Page 10
