The Quicksilver Faire

by Gillian Summers

  “What are you?”

  “That’s a plimikin.” Maemtri’s voice answered. She wore a long green dress covered with an paisley apron that could’ve come from the Vera Bradley collection.

  “Wait. How did we get to Quicksilver?” Keelie looked around. Yep, same place. The basket of hissing roaches sat on the flimsy table, and Henry the lion snoozed in front of the fireplace.

  Maemtri’s eyes followed her gaze. She leaped over to the basket and pushed it back to a safer location. “Don’t want a repeat of that tragic accident. You aren’t in Quicksilver, Keliel. We’re in Under-the-Hill right now, a dangerous place to be if you don’t know where you are.”

  The plimikin jumped up on a counter to a glass jar filled with what looked like chocolate chip cookies. He removed one, then stopped and eyed Keelie. “You want one? They’re very good.” He plunked the cookie into his mouth and screwed the lid back onto the cookie jar.

  “No thanks.” The talking blue-furred monkey’s slimy hand was an appetite killer. Plus, the no-eating rule probably applied here, too.

  Herne noticed and laughed. “You’re safe here, Keelie.”

  Maemtri dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “He’s right. And I’m glad you’re back. I wanted to tell you something when we last met, but that dreadful cat knocked over my cockroaches and caused a scene. I knew your Grandmother Josephine.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “People have been keeping secrets from you—for what purpose I know not, except that elves have always distrusted the fae. Your grandmother is one of those secrets. I want to tell you about her.”

  The world was getting smaller and smaller, but weirder and weirder. This fairy woman who rescued familiars knew her kind-hearted Grandmother Jo?

  “What secrets? I recently learned that she had fae blood. But my grandmother never left Los Angeles—did you visit her there?” Keelie asked.

  Herne raised his eyebrows at Keelie as he removed his cloak and draped it over a coat tree. The coat tree exited the room, its little feet tapping on the wooden floor.

  “I have a lot to tell you. Have a seat?” Maemtri gestured toward a velvet sofa with a carved backboard. Keelie sat down, sinking into the cushions. Herne lowered himself beside her and sank against her. Then Keelie grabbed the back of the sofa and pulled herself up. The wood sang at her touch. It came from the Under-the-Hill forest, and she saw the image of the first forest. In the distance, a stooped and wrinkled woman was standing underneath a tall tree that grew as high as the clouds, its roots sinking all the way into the Earth.

  It was the Mother Tree. The old woman turned to Keelie and spoke, her voice whispering like dry dirt falling on rock. Knowing your roots is important to help you determine your true home.

  Plummeting back to the here and now, Keelie looked at Herne, who was still slumped into the Victorian cushion, looking relaxed and talking to Maemtri as if they were old friends catching up. No one had noticed that she’d zoned out. She didn’t know what that had been about, but it reminded her that Maemtri hadn’t yet told her about Grandmother Josephine, and she needed to turn the conversation back to that topic. Maybe that was what the old woman in the vision meant.

  Herne looked at her with concern. “Are you okay? You seemed lost in thought.”

  “Just wondering about where Maemtri saw Grandma Jo.”

  Maemtri smiled at her. “You are mistaken when you say your grandmother never left Los Angeles. She was born to the High Court, and she was a friend of mine.” At Keelie’s look of surprise, she continued. “Your grandmother was a fairy who fell in love with an injured mortal man she’d healed. Healing was her gift, but Queen Vania grew angry when she heard that a fairy had fallen in love with a human. It had happened too often, and if too many fae mated with humans, soon there would be no pureblood fae.”

  Blood pounded in Keelie’s head. If Grandma Jo was pureblood fae, that meant that Keelie had way more than just a little drop of fae blood. She fought the urge to jump up and scream “no way.” Rubbing at her eyes to stop the burning, she turned away from Herne’s inquisitive eyes.

  Herne leaned in closer, interested. “I’ve never heard this tale. Keelie, you have many secrets.”

  Secrets Keelie hadn’t known, either.

  Maemtri snapped her fingers at Herne. “I’m not finished.” The Lord of Nature pressed his lips together and frowned.

  “Queen Vania decided to make an example of your grandmother,” Maemtri continued.

  “How?” Keelie asked.

  “She turned your grandmother into a brownie. She banished her from the High Court.”

  Banished. Was that how Gran ended up in California? “What exactly is a brownie? I don’t think we’re talking about a chocolate dessert or a little girls’ service club,” Keelie said.

  “It’s a wrinkled creature that likes to do housework. Brownies are transformed creatures who have displeased the queen at one time.” Herne pushed himself into a straighter position. “Under-the-Hill is crowded with them.”

  Keelie gasped. “That’s horrible. My grandmother didn’t look like that.”

  “The meaner ones are boggarts. They are usually wizards or witches who have abused their power,” Maemtri said. “They’re very mean to their familiars.”

  The plimikin ran to Maemtri and hid its face in her skirts. “Once they’ve been transformed, I rescue the familiars.” She patted the blue-furred monkey, and Henry the lion stretched and came to her too, rubbing his big face against her knees.

  Guiltily, Keelie thought of Knot. Maybe she shouldn’t call him snotball anymore, or push him out of bed when he licked her hair at night. She just wanted her cat back. She shook herself. What was she thinking? Two minutes in the naughty cat’s presence and all this love talk would vanish from her head.

  “Willow, whom you knew as Josephine, was distraught,” Maemtri said. “Even as a brownie she mourned her human, whom she loved so. Linsa took pity on her and transformed her into a human, too. She’d been a brownie long enough to be affected by brownie ways, but even as a human she kept her fairy healing power. Such transformations are tricky that way.” She paused. “One thing was certain, however. As a human, Willow would live a human lifespan. But she chose it anyway, to be with that boy. No one expected her to have children, and that the fae blood would breed true.”

  Keelie was stunned at the news. She’d struggled with not knowing how long she would live, but her grandmother had chosen the shorter life for love. It was as if Keelie and Grandma Jo were living parallel lives with some paradoxical twists. Luckily, she hadn’t inherited her grandmother’s compulsive need to organize closets, but apparently Josephine—Willow—had been a Healer, so maybe that’s where she got her own satisfaction at healing trees. Her fairy past, working with her elven present.

  Queen Vania was something else, though. She’d transformed her Grandmother Jo into a wrinkled and pitiful creature because she wanted to make an example of someone. And now she needed Keelie’s help to get out of trouble. Indignant, Keelie clenched her fists, and the skin on her chest felt hot. “How dare Vania ask me for help? Doesn’t she know who I am?” Dad was going to get an earful.

  Herne gave the familiar’s shop owner a stern look. “Oh, she knows. I suspect she didn’t want anyone telling you about your grandmother.”

  Keelie lifted her chin. “I’m glad Maemtri did.”

  “Vania still needs your help,” Maemtri said, her warm eyes holding Keelie’s. “The realms all need to cooperate, if we’re to solve the problem of the rift and the wild magic.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.” Keelie’s head was still spinning in reaction to what she’d just learned.

  “You’ve seen what has happened, and it will only get worse,” Maemtri said.

  “Leaking magic and a rift aren’t your only problems,” a booming voice bellowed from the fireplace.
The rocks that backed it were grinding aside, exposing a drafty opening.

  Herne chuckled, and Maemtri didn’t seem to find anything strange when King Gneiss appeared in the fireplace like it was a front door. He stepped over the crackling logs, then wiped his feet carefully on the rug before stretching back to his full four feet right in front of her eyes. Long gray hair flowed from under the quicksilver crown on his furrowed head, an interesting look with his dirt-encrusted clothes. “Goblins be yer problem, and they’re growing stronger.”

  Keelie felt a chill in her blood, and pictured the armored goblins in Big Nugget.

  Herne straightened, and bowed to the King of the Dwarves. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  The king’s hard expression turned even more stony. “When the shaft collapsed in the rift, we discovered that wild goblins have been mining the quicksilver, the dirty devils.”

  Herne started in surprise and his face twisted with anger. “My goblins are forbidden in the mines. Are you certain that they are not mine?”

  King Gneiss nodded grimly. “These are wild ones, Green Man. And they seem to be banding together.”

  The plimikin pushed its face deeper into Maemtri’s skirts at the mention of wild goblins.

  “This does not bode well.” Herne’s mouth pursed as he stalked back and forth. “Wild goblins have always been few and solitary. Last one I’ve heard about was chased from the Redwood Forest many years ago.”

  Keelie started at the mention of the redwoods. “If it’s the one I think you mean, he died there, and poisoned one of the great trees. And another came. I saw him.”

  Herne and King Gneiss stared at her. Maemtri had gone pale.

  “Goblins in the redwoods?” Herne looked at Maemtri. “Did you know of this?”

  Maemtri shook her head mutely.

  “Norzan was with us in the Redwood Forest. Didn’t he tell the High Court?” Keelie had grown uneasy at their reaction. Maybe the elves should have been more worried. Then it struck her that they had been, and that was why Grandmother Keliatiel had stayed behind. The most powerful elf on the continent was guarding the most ancient forest.

  “There’s more. The goblins are above, in the human town.” Maemtri patted the plimikin.

  King Gneiss growled. “Yes. They are breeding in the cities, where they live off the debris of humankind.”

  Keelie nodded. “I saw them dancing as we drove through Big Nugget.”

  “Yet they have not entered the forest,” Herne said, looking troubled. “Peascod was my eyes and ears in the mortal world, but I am no longer surprised that he did not speak of it. Let us go investigate.” He whistled sharply and the hall tree trotted into the room. He snatched his cloak off the hook.

  “You should not trust that masked ninny.” King Gneiss’ eyes were as hard as flint. “Always prancing and singing, but behind the jokes and juggling he is cruel. Tell him Maemtri, what he did to your cat.”

  Maemtri’s eyes filled with tears. “Poor Purrington. He was a trickster, too, but he didn’t deserve such a sad end.”

  Keelie’s heart clenched. She did not want to hear this story. “Peascod killed your cat?” She turned to Herne. “Didn’t you suspect? Haven’t you heard any stories about him?”

  “The dark fae are full of trickiness and cruelty, but we don’t hurt each other much. And we have centuries to heal.” Herne sighed. “Peascod is a traitor to me, but he seemed no different from some of my darker subjects, the ones who relish blood as much as laughter.”

  Keelie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re mad mostly because he’s tricked you.” Typical.

  Herne glowered at her. “Do not forget, sweeting, that you are here because you’ve involved me in your game. You don’t seem very grateful at the moment.”

  “If Peascod is behind the wild goblins’ presence, where did he get such magic? It would take great power to hide it from you,” King Gneiss said. “Perhaps as much as an origin’s point would muster.”

  “What’s an origin’s point?” Keelie asked.

  “The vortex in Fairy is an origin’s point. A new one would be impossible to create without access to my library and books of magic. But Peascod had that access.” Herne seemed to have grown taller.

  “An origin’s point to Under-the-Hill,” Maemtri said, voice squeaking. “He could control the magic coming to this realm.”

  Peascod in control of the Under-the-Hill magic. Keelie had a sudden vision of everyone in Under-the-Hill bowing to Peascod’s warped ideas. Surprised, she realized that she was offended, and that her indignation arose from a feeling of kinship with the dark fae, one that she hadn’t been able to understand before. Now she had her answer. Their blood flowed through her veins, too, and explained why Under-the-Hill felt like home.

  No one messed with her home. “How do we stop him?” she asked.

  “We find him and destroy him.” Herne clenched his fist. “Keelie, come with me back to Grey Mantle.” He turned to King Gneiss. “I will send trolls to help you secure your borders against the goblins.”

  Keelie clutched her rose quartz. She wanted to be out of here before the trolls came.

  Gneiss bowed his head and began to shrink until he was small enough to fit through the fireplace. “I shall return to my people and my mines. We’ll take care of the goblin nest we found, and await the trolls.”

  Herne had draped his cloak around his shoulders as the fireplace rocks reformed themselves into a solid wall. “Come with me, Keliel.” He held out his hand. “Your work starts here.”

  “But I still have questions.”

  “Later. We have pressing work to do.”

  The tension in his voice told her how concerned he was. Maybe almost scared. She put her hand into his, surprised anew at the slight shock of his skin against hers. She really didn’t have a choice. It was the only way to stop Peascod.

  The shop vanished and its animal noises and smells faded, turning to bright light and the putrid smell of garbage. Keelie blinked, clutching Herne’s hand. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable while her eyes adjusted and drew closer to Herne’s warmth, wondering where they were that smelled so foul.

  Gradually, she saw a sooty brick wall and a big green industrial dumpster. Above the dumpster was a row of steel windows, the glass painted over from within. The sky above was pale blue. Keelie let go of Herne and took a step toward the dumpster, which had a sticker that read “Big Nugget Hauling.”

  “We’re in Big Nugget!”

  Herne cursed. “This is not where I meant to take us.”

  “What is that smell? It’s not coming from the dumpster.”

  “Goblins. Keep your voice down.” Herne walked quickly to the mouth of the alley and looked up and down the narrow street outside.

  Keelie shrank back against the peeling paint on the old brick wall. She remembered the teeth on the goblins who had danced around the dark maypole.

  She jumped as a loud clang came from the dumpster. But it wasn’t a goblin. Knot was glaring at her from the dumpster’s lid—he’d leaped onto it from the roof of the building. He hunched on the edge of the lid and hissed. “Yeow had me worried.”

  Keelie was glad to see him, but she didn’t want to show it. “Herne took me Under-the Hill. How did you know I’d be here?”

  A bright light zoomed overhead, like a flicked match with a purpose. It turned and dive-bombed the cat like a tiny missile and he swatted at it, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Pixies. Meow called in lots of favors to get them to look for yeow.” He glared at her. “Yeow owes me for four days of swatting.”

  The pixies barely registered as Knot’s words sank in. “We’ve been gone four days?” Keelie whirled to face Herne. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t complain, sweetheart. I wanted you to see Under-the-H
ill and speak to Maemtri.” He glanced back down the road to the left. His shoulders tensed. “We don’t have time to argue. The goblins will scent us soon.”

  “A month in Fairy, and now four days in Under-the-Hill. My dad must be frantic.” Keelie glowered at Herne. “And I’m not your sweetheart.”

  He smiled mischievously, eyes twinkling. “Not yet.”

  Herne was so full of himself. Keelie knew she had to steel herself against his charms and stay focused on a resolution for the rift.

  Knot jumped to the ground and stalked to the mouth of the alley. He looked where Herne had been looking. For a second he was very still, and then his ears flattened against his skull and the fur along his spine stood on end.

  Keelie hurried to Knot’s side. The streets seemed to be deserted. “What do you see? Is Dad here yet?” Reminding Herne she had a father might deter the nature god.

  “Your father is not here,” Herne said. “I would’ve sensed his presence by now, as would the goblins.”

  “Can they sense me?” Keelie asked in a low whisper.

  Herne shook his head. “You confuse them. We need to go.”

  “Why can’t you stop them?” Keelie wanted to know. He was the all-powerful Herne. “Can’t you control all goblins?”

  “Someone else controls them, but I can try to sway them.”

  Keelie and Knot followed Herne, slinking from one doorway to the next on the street. She felt exposed, as if every goblin could see her, and her ears ached from listening for the jangling of the bells on Peascod’s jester hat.

  Knot hurried at her side. “Yeow be careful.”

  “I really need to call Dad, but I left the phone with Sean. Is he nearby?” She looked at an empty playground across the street.

  “Will you two keep quiet?” Herne said through gritted teeth. “Keelie, follow me closely. If goblins attack, go up. They’re afraid of heights.”

  They scooted from store front to store front, resting in the doorway of a crystal shop. Herne pointed out a steel ladder on the side of the building.