by Jeffrey Cook
“Light-elves.” For once, Ashling's linguistic interjection was helpful.
“But indeed,” Riocard continued, “General Inwar is from Scandinavia. And, to wind about the digression, he may or may not be at the concert in the Goblin Market, but his Queen certainly will. So, Megan, will you join us on the dais?”
Megan sighed. “Well, okay. No hard feelings, after all.” That got a very approving smile from her father. Megan had picked up pretty quickly that he wasn't going to let a little thing like being set up to be betrayed and imprisoned, almost leading to a seasonal magical disaster, spoil a perfectly cordial professional relationship with the Seelie Queen.
“Okay,” Megan repeated. “Wouldn't miss it.”
Chapter 5: Backstage
Mrs. Kahale was saying something, but Megan was watching for the sign. "Welcome to Fremont, Center of the Universe," it said. Despite not being that long a drive, coming to the quirky artists' neighborhood had always felt like entering a whole different world. At least until Megan had actually entered a whole different world that made this place look sane. A few blocks later was the statue of Lenin. She supposed some things about Fremont might always look odd, even after having seen Faerie.
"Megan, Honey..." Mrs. K's voice cut through the reverie. "Could you make Mack a maze for his LEGOs?" It was a familiar request. Megan pulled the pad and pen stashed on the back of the seat and set to work, designing a maze with an outer border in the shape of a hard hat as she listened to Mrs. Kahale's reminders.
"All right, girls—and Justin—we'll drop you off, Mack and I will run errands while you go to Cassia's band gathering and the Other Thing, and then we'll pick you up at the barrier on Phinney at 4:30.”
“At the barrier on Phinney at 4:30,” Megan repeated in near-unison with Lani as, within the maze, she carefully added some LEGO hazards, like a LEGO-ized minotaur, in the dead ends.
Mrs. Kahale continued. “Now Lani's got her backpack, but I know you'll probably want to eat at the Other Thing. Please make sure you get something sort of resembling actual meals, not all sugar."
“Don't worry, Mrs. K,” Megan said as she handed the new maze to an appreciative Mack. “If Lani doesn't have a food pyramid on hand, Justin probably has a cheese schedule.” Megan grinned when Lani smirked at her.
Megan's mother might object if she knew Lani's mother wouldn't be keeping a direct eye on them the whole time—even without knowing anything else—but they'd have her number, and she'd be close—in terms of the real world, anyway.
"All of you, stay out of trouble, be very careful, and don't hesitate to call if there's any problems, okay?"
The three agreed, thanking her for the ride, before piling out of the car. Justin was carrying a bass guitar case. Megan hadn't yet asked why.
Cassia met them at the barrier, along with three other girls. Megan had looked up Cassia's band, Sax & Violins, but due to her mother's restrictions, their shows this weekend would be her first chance to see the band live.
"All right, people,” Cassia said. “Our show isn't until tomorrow, but we're helping out some friends. You of course know Violet Baptiste, the world's hottest fiddler." Cassia's bronze-toned hand clasped the slightly darker hand of the girl next to her, whose dreadlocked hair sported streaks of, predictably, violet. Megan had met Cassia's girlfriend in passing and nodded politely before Cassia's introductory attention moved to the other two.
"This is Nell, our lead singer," she said, gesturing to the tiny, delicate, girl with long, chestnut hair. As Megan looked at her, the girl's visage shifted slightly, which Megan had started getting used to, when meeting faeries and other inhuman folk. It was mostly subtle, but small details drew her eye, like the slightly webbed fingers, and the fact that Nell seemed to have a second set of eyelids—nearly clear membranes that closed side-to-side instead of up-and-down—under her regular eyelids. Megan wasn't sure what it meant, but apparently Cassia wasn't the only non-human in the band.
"And Erin, our bassist," Cassia added, pointing to a strawberry blonde with short curls, wearing horn-rimmed glasses, a Dresden Dolls promotional t-shirt, and cargo pants.
"So you're Megan O'Reilly," Erin said, extending a hand to Megan first. "I saw Late to the Party play on their last tour. One of my first concerts, and part of the reason I started playing bass. Your mother's work was... well, incendiary."
"So I've heard." Megan said.
The band members said their hellos to Lani and Justin as well, then the lot of them followed Cassia towards the main stage.
The rest of the band was hard at work around the stage when they got there. Katja, the band's second violinist, was talking with some people on stage, probably one of the other bands. The cowgirl hat Megan had seen on the tall blonde in all the band photos was there, but for set-up time, she'd apparently exchanged the bikini top and denim skirt for a t-shirt and jeans.
The last member of the band, who usually went by Cris on the album covers and their website, was off to one side of the stage, helping the roadies haul boxes. The short-haired drummer's arms were works of art, bright tattoo sleeves all accented by musical bars that wound around her arms with notes and what Megan suspected were lyrics mixed in. Given the completeness of the work, and hints of ink on the woman's neck, just showing over the collar of her black tank top, Megan suspected there was a whole lot more artwork covered up.
Cassia went through the rest of the introductions, showing the girls around the backstage area, and introducing them to a few of the other local musicians. When she got called over to offer her advice on a set list, Megan took the opportunity to talk to Erin a little more. "So, how did you meet Cassia, anyway?"
"Through Violet. We went to school together here. We played a few gigs in the area before she met Cassia, and S & V started."
"So, you're going to be playing both shows?" Since Megan hadn't gotten any particularly magical or Faerie-like vibes off of Erin, she was trying to figure out exactly how the system worked. There were plenty of stories of humans pulled into Faerie, but she hadn't seen any normal people, aside from Justin—to whatever degree a boy from centuries in the past was normal—when she was there.
"Yeah, the band sort of knows what's up, but only the very basics, and we don't ask questions."
"Why is that?"
"Because that's one of the first things Nell told us, and Cassia kind of agreed. You'll find plenty of people in Fremont who believe in some very out-there things. The idea that Faerielands and whatever exist wasn't the biggest of shocks, but I believe them when they say we really don't want to know, or get more involved. We'll go; we'll watch the pretty lights; we'll eat what Nell says is okay, and we'll play. The rest of the time, this city is enough weirdness for me."
Megan nodded. "Center of the Universe and all."
Erin grinned. "Center of the Universe.”
“So what's Nell's story?”
“You'd be better off asking her. All I know is she and Cassia have the same 'Old Country,' and Nell likes to stay the heck away from anything to do with the place or any place like it. She lives a few doors down from me and doesn't go out much except to perform. Whatever she is, she has an incredible voice. I'm surprised we haven't met. You've known Cassia for a while, right?"
"Since October,” Megan said. “Lani introduced us. But my mom doesn't really like me going to concerts or things like that."
"Wait, Sheila O'Reilly? Seriously? Why?"
Megan paused. The girl said they tried to avoid knowing too much. "It's complicated. She just doesn't want me getting into trouble, I guess."
"Oh... okay.” Erin looked slightly forlorn. “When I heard you were going to be here, I was kind of hoping I might get a chance to meet her, too."
"She doesn't really do shows. Sorry."
They were going to talk more, but Cassia was calling, holding something in hand and waving. She stood next to one of the roadies, who had to be one of the biggest men Megan had ever seen—and the eyepatch he wore didn't do anything to make him look frien
dlier. Megan headed for the pair. Or possibly quartet—Megan noted that right beside Cassia was a basket containing two spotted kittens, one in an aviator helmet.
“The boys are coming?” Megan asked.
“Jude doesn't trust me to shop for his Pulp Flying Ace Adventure Hour records by myself.” Cassia handed her a tan-and-green laminated slip of paper, bearing the words BACKSTAGE PASS. "These will get you through the gate, and over to the market. Finn here will be keeping an eye on the passage a little." As Megan got used to the big man's presence, and started to associate him with Faerie things like knowing where the gate was, the massive figure began to resemble the other trolls Megan had seen in Faerie.
"Finn?" Megan asked, extending a hand. "So, you're the bouncer?"
The troll grinned, displaying questionable dentistry and some jagged teeth. "Nah, just filling in. Mostly a roadie for Cass and Nell. And a model." He shifted the meat-ladened sticks held in his hand to the other to free a hand, wiped it on his jeans, and shook her hand carefully.
“A model?” Megan blinked, looking confused.
Cassia filled in. "Finn is very proud of having helped to inspire the sculpture under the Aurora Bridge."
“Ah. That makes ...sense.” Megan looked at Finn. “So you're an under-the-bridge-type troll?”
“Once upon a time,” Finn said, smiling wryly. “Nowadays, I've got a great apartment. The upstairs neighbors are just as noisy, but I like the place.” He then glanced at his snack, shifting one of the sticks back and offering it to Megan. "Goat kebab?"
“Uhm, no thanks," she replied. "We'll get something at the Market."
The troll nodded, gesturing for the girls, the kittens, and Justin to follow. Eventually, he led them to a door that should have led to a recessed area under the stage, hidden away amidst the sound equipment, crates, and instrument cases—to which Justin quietly added his. Megan wanted to remember to ask about that.
"Right through here," Finn explained, opening the door. Inside, at first, there was only darkness. When she started to see the reflected glint, within the passage, of the bluish glow of balefire, Megan knew better than to look. She closed her eyes and walked through the doorway.
Chapter 6: The Goblin Market
The underside of the stage smelled like dirt, grease, stale beer, smoke breaks, and smoke breaks that weren't entirely tobacco. Over the fading sounds of instruments tuning, Megan could hear the crackling of the balefires, but there was no heat.
The smells and sounds of Fremont disappeared as she took another step forward. They were replaced by cackling laughter on one side, which was then overwhelmed by the sound of sobbing. She nearly opened her eyes, but remembered Justin's ordeal—his lost mentor, the lost centuries, all from wide-eyed misdirection on the paths. Megan kept her eyes shut tightly and kept walking.
A few moments followed where she couldn't tell if she was falling, being spun around, or both. When that settled, she was hit by conflicting sounds: folk music, stomping feet, and laughter from her left, and from the distant right, discordant heavy metal and what sounded like chainsaws on steel. Her nose picked up freshly turned earth, livestock, fires, unwashed bodies, washed bodies with all sorts of scented things, and less identifiable impressions all hitting her at once.
The real impact came when she finally did open her eyes and was assaulted by the sight of the Market, a mile or more of sheer spectacle of colors and motion: signs, tents, jugglers, acrobats, pegasus rides, and countless other attractions and distractions.
“About darn time,” Ashling said. “I've been right here waiting forever.”
“Caw.”
“I know time is relative here, Count. That just makes it worse.”
“Caw.”
“Yes, it does. Now let's get going. I only get to shop for hyacinth-petal edible fashions once a year.”
Lani nodded. “Okay, Cassia, do Jude and Maxwell still want to spend a while in the giant non-orientable cat tree?”
“Yep. Come on boys.”
Megan looked at Lani. “Non-orientable cat tree?”
“You know cat trees, right? Those whole carpeted scratching-posty-structures?”
“Yes. That's not the question.”
“Okay, you know Moebius strips, right?” Lani’s finger sketched a twisted circle in the air. “They only have one side?”
“...Yes.”
“Well imagine a whole bunch of big ones made of carpet and all glued together at the ends.”
Megan decided to stick with “I'm glad the cats will have somewhere to play.” She continued walking as the colors and sounds and smells filled the air.
Megan stopped and stared, wide-eyed. 'Souls Sold,' read a messily scrawled sign in one corner.
"It's okay, Megan," Lani said. "It really is. That's a shoemaker. He's just really bad at spelling."
Writing also did not seem to be the forte of the hag stirring a giant brass kettle. The sign saying 'SoUp' appeared to be have been etched with rusty red pen. Megan was going to choose to believe that the hag simply had rusty red pens lying around.
She also was relieved to see a nice, normal hot dog stand to the left. As Megan reached into her pocket for the baseball card, Lani put a hand on her arm. "Don't," the shorter girl said.
Justin looked at the stand, just a touch green. "I don't trust the hot dogs in your world, much less these."
"Hold out, and we'll split some roast chicken,” Lani suggested. “Or the curries in the central bazaar: they're guaranteed real mutton from sheep that were always sheep.”
Megan nodded, supposing that some of those thoughts were certainly enough to take the edge off her appetite. Still, she looked over quickly when she heard cries about eggs and was surprised by the museum-like display cases.
"Fabergé eggs! Golden goose-eggs! Stone eggs of the Ephesian Lady!" announced the fancily-dressed creature.
"The Ephesian Temple was one of the old Seven Wonders of the World, right?" Megan remarked to her friends. Art History really was the best history.
"Well, not every temple they built in that spot over the centuries," Cassia said with a shrug. "Just the one that was destroyed by H—"
"Don't you dare," Lani interrupted her. "Don't you dare say it. Don't give him the satisfaction unless you can name the architects and every member of the work crew."
"Hey, even I'm not old enough to have known any of those people, and nobody took down the names of work crews."
"Well, they made something. All he did was break it. And he thought that made him special, and I won't hear you make him right. He gets to be nobody. That's what he gets."
Megan wanted to give Lani's righteous civil-engineering indignation the moment it deserved, but she'd just noticed something. “Oooh.”
It was the way the vibrations rippled through the paint that did it. Or maybe it was the colors. Megan walked closer and closer to the painting, stepping past a jade statue. The painting was very much like something she'd do, but unlike any of her works, the painting was alive. The Autumn scene was full of red and orange leaves blanketing the ground and trees lining the sides of a stream with not-yet-fallen leaves in the same shades. A soft wind carried the leaves around in small eddies and shook the branches gently.
Every now and then, a bigger gust blew, sweeping up more leaves and disturbing the hiding butterflies, which drifted higher, eventually flying out of the panel, or re-settling as the wind did. Despite watching, transfixed, for several minutes, Megan couldn't see any repetition or pattern.
“Interested?” asked the jade-colored woman.
Megan nearly jumped as what she had presumed to be a statue spoke. Then she nodded. “How much? I mean...how's this?” She pulled the baseball card out of her pocket and handed it over.
The woman looked at the card. “Certainly. And would Your Highness like this delivered to your room at An Teach Deiridh?”
“Um, sure.” She couldn't take it to her house, after all. It actually took a few moments to reflect on the fact that t
he woman must have meant her father's room, as Megan didn't recall having a room at An Teach Deiridh. But there was no time to clarify, because as the painting was being taken from the market by a pair of trolls, Megan's eye was drawn by another shop being set up in an empty space a few lots down.
In truth, shop might be giving it too much credit. A goblin with an especially long, hooked nose rolled a rock that was larger than he was into the spot. Megan drifted closer while the goblin somehow tacked a poster, which included some writing and a picture of himself, up to the front of the rock. The next few minutes saw him dragging boxes and crates up next to the rock, and then unpacking all manner of collapsible shelves from them and lining the shelves with vials. Looking at his supplies, there was no way all of it should have fit in the relatively few containers.
She finally got close enough to read the poster. Unlike a lot of the scratches and uneven letters, this was neat, even stylized.
THE MEDICINE SHOW
Ills cured, ailments resolved, curses lifted, snakes oiled.
Satisfaction guaranteed.
“Walk right over. Step right up. Ladies, Gentlemen, and Others, my practice does not deal in generified panaceas. All treatments are specialized to the condition, whether one needs the cure for the Black Death, a black eye, a black mood, something you painted black but now want your window back—but do keep in mind, ladies and gentlemen, that 'not being romantically interested in the person others might prefer them to be' is not, in fact, an ailment. Unlike some two-bit operations, I do not insult my customers' intelligence with love potions.”
How many times, Megan wondered, had the guy had to tell someone that, to end up putting it in his sales patter? She was glad that at least, whatever Lani might randomly advise, there was no way there'd ever be any magical pressure about dating Justin—or anyone. And Lani was wrong about Justin, of course.
Lani tapped her on the shoulder.
Megan jumped. “What?”
“You wandered off going 'Ooooh.'”
