“Wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘kidnapping’ my sisters?”
Li’l Pater regarded us all with surprise. “You didn’t know? The ’sangmen have two, and the bee court has the other four.”
I thought my heart would stop in my chest. I gave Aunt Lillian and the Apple Tree Man an anguished look, but they only shook their heads in sympathy.
“Why… why are they doing this?” I asked the cat man.
“For barter,” Li’l Pater said. “They want to trade your sisters for the ’sangman in your basket.”
“But we were already bringing him back.”
“They don’t know that.”
“And if both sides have my… my sisters… what am I supposed to do? Choose between who I’ll save and who I’ll sacrifice?” I looked down at the unconscious ’sangman. “For this little man that I don’t even know?”
“Should have thought of that before you got involved,” Li’l Pater said.
I nodded glumly. Aunt Lillian had warned me often enough. The one sure road to trouble, she’d say, is to get mixed up in the middle of a fairy quarrel.
“That doesn’t matter now,” I said. “All that’s important is that we rescue my sisters, and for that, we need a plan.”
“This should be good,” Li’l Pater said, a distinctive purr in his voice.
“And to start with,” I went on, “I don’t want you around when I’m making it.”
The purr stopped. “What did I ever—”
“I don’t know you,” I told him. “And right now I can’t take the chance of trusting you.” I turned to the Apple Tree Man. “And come to think of it, who’s to say that I can trust you, either?”
“Now, Sarah Jane,” Aunt Lillian said, “the Apple Tree Man might be a lot of things, but—”
I shook my head, not letting her finish. “He may be your friend, but I wouldn’t call him a very good one. And he certainly hasn’t said or done anything to prove that he’s mine. I won’t take the chance of trusting any fairy—not with my sisters’ lives at stake.”
Before anyone could protest, I stepped over to where the Apple Tree Man had set down the basket with the ’sangman still sleeping in it. I picked up the basket.
“I may have my own disappointments with the Apple Tree Man,” Aunt Lillian said, “but I’d trust him with my very life.”
“What about the lives of my sisters?”
She regarded me for a long moment, then shook her head.
“I’ve told you what’s true for me,” she said, “but only you can decide who you should trust.”
I didn’t know where this fierce feeling had come from—probably some protective reflex locked in the Dillard genes. We were the kind of folks who depended on ourselves. But blind panic also coursed through my veins, born out of the shock of learning that my sisters were in danger and it was my fault. My fault, but fairies were caught up in every which part of it.
The Apple Tree Man was a fairy being. Could he really be trusted?
The thing that finally swayed me was how the Apple Tree Man didn’t try to change my mind. Li’l Pater sat up on his branch, obviously insulted and muttering to himself. I wasn’t listening to him. But the Apple Tree Man stood calmly waiting for me to make up my own mind.
And I guess the other thing that swayed me was that I didn’t have the first clue as to how to proceed. I didn’t know where the ’sangmen lived—leastways, not in this world. I didn’t know what to do when I found them. I also knew nothing about these bee fairies or how to go about rescuing my sisters from them. I was pretty much stuck.
So I took a breath and looked at the Apple Tree Man.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “If Aunt Lillian trusts you that much, I should be able to do the same. I’m just so worried about my sisters.”
“I understand,” he said.
“And what about me?” Li’l Pater asked, grumblings forgotten. “Are you going to let me help?” He grinned and spread his fingers and his cat claws popped out from the end of each of them. “I can be fierce as the Father himself.”
Having accepted the Apple Tree Man’s help, I looked to him for guidance on this. He gave Li’l Pater a stern look.
“Promise you’ll only help?” he asked. “No tricks, no jokes?”
Li’l Pater stretched and nodded.
“You swear on the fangs of the Father?”
The cat man’s eyes opened wider and he nodded again.
The Apple Tree Man turned back to me.
“By that oath,” he said, “you can trust him.”
“So what do we do?” I asked.
I was anxious. I didn’t know what the fairies were doing to my sisters, but every moment they were with them was far too long for me.
“First we’ll follow our original plan,” the Apple Tree Man said. “We’ll visit the ’sangmen and free the sisters they have. When they realize that we’re returning their little prince, they’ll be honor-bound to let your sisters go and help us.”
“And the bee fairies?” Aunt Lillian asked.
“I have an idea about how to deal with them, though it will depend on Sarah Jane’s courage.”
The very idea of bees made my knees knock, but I resolved to try whatever needed to be done.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Adie and Elsie
die and Elsie watched the meadow from their spot by the beech tree, where their guards had brought them. The attention of the whole fairy court, including their guards, was on a tubby little man who approached the queen with Ruth and Grace in tow.
They were still some distance away, but so far, other than being covered in bees, the twins didn’t seem to be hurt. As Adie and Elsie watched, the entire swarm of bees coating their sisters rose up and flew to the queen. They hovered for a moment, then disappeared into the folds of her gown, patterning it as though they were woven into the fabric.
Adie turned her attention to Elsie’s knapsack. The fairies had left it on her back, either because they didn’t know what it was, or they didn’t care. After all, what could a couple of girls do, hands bound and with such a host to stand against them?
“What do you use to sharpen those pencils of yours?” Adie asked.
“Just this old jackknife that George gave me,” Elsie said.
“Is it sharp?”
“Well, sure it is. It has to be to shave the wood properly.…” Her voice trailed off and she gave Adie a quick look. “What are you planning to do with it?”
“Whatever it takes to rescue the twins and get us all out of here.”
Adie looked again at the scene in the meadow. All the bee fairies remained fascinated with what was going on. If she was ever going to have a chance, this was it.
“Turn around so I can get at your knapsack,” she said.
“Oh, I don’t like this,” Elsie said, but she turned as asked, whispering, “There’s too many of them, Adie.”
“I only need to get to the queen,” Adie replied.
With bound hands, Adie had trouble getting the knapsack’s drawstring undone, but she finally got it loose and was able to reach in. She dug awkwardly among Elsie’s sketchbooks and the various roots, twigs, and whatnots until she felt the handle of the jackknife and pulled it out. Laying it on the ground, she took a moment to close up the knapsack again before trying to open the knife. After much fussing and one broken nail, she managed to pry the blade out of the handle and began the awkward process of sawing through the grass rope binding Elsie’s hands. Luckily, Elsie hadn’t been exaggerating. The blade was sharp and sliced easily through.
“Here. Now do mine,” Adie said.
Elsie hesitated. “This is only asking for more trouble,” she said.
“Come on, Elsie. They brought it on.”
Elsie checked again to make sure that they were still unobserved, then sliced through the ropes binding her sister’s wrists and passed the knife back to Adie.
“So you’re just going to stab her?” Elsie asked, a horrified look on her f
ace.
“Look,” Adie said. “They’re not even people, okay? They’re like bugs. And when bugs start annoying you, you squash them.”
“But—”
“Look what they’ve done to our Ruthie and Grace,” Adie said. “No one threatens my sisters, Elsie. That’s the bottom line. Now put your hands back together.”
Adie arranged the cut ropes back on top of Elsie’s wrists. “Make sure you keep your hands in your lap, like they’re still tied.”
Elsie nodded, her nervous glance returning to where the twins were being brought up to the bee fairy queen.
“Let me try to put the ropes back on yours,” she said to Adie.
“No need. I’m going to slip off into the woods. What I want you to do is create a diversion in about, say, five minutes.”
Elsie stared at her in horror. “I’d rather try the disbelieving business first.”
Adie shook her head. “It’s way too late for that. I mean, we know they’re here, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Trust me on this,” Adie said.
Before Elsie could think of something else to try to get her to stay, Adie slipped off behind the beech tree and into the woods.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Laurel and Bess
think I hate the dark,” Laurel said.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Bess’s voice replied.
“Maybe I’ve always hated it, but I just didn’t know till now because I was never anyplace so dark before.”
Normally, all Laurel had to do was close her eyes and she could call up Bess’s features in her mind’s eye. But here, where it was black as coal whether she had her eyes open or not, she couldn’t do it. There was only the unending dark and it was getting to her.
“If we were Girl Scouts,” she went on, “we’d have come prepared with a flashlight.”
She couldn’t see Bess’s smile, but she could feel it.
“Or at least a candle and matches,” Bess said.
“Exactly. And maybe a bag of chips or some cookies.”
“Except, if we were Girl Scouts,” Bess said, “we’d still be working in the garden, because Girl Scouts do what they say they’ll do. They don’t go chasing off after fiddlers in the woods.”
“So we’d be lousy Girl Scouts from the get-go.”
“Pretty much.”
Laurel sighed. “I guess we should have been looking out for some little old lady to help on our way into the woods. Or a talking spoon. Or a lion with a thorn in his paw or something.”
“What for?”
“Well, you know. In the stories they always come back to help you when you get in a pickle.”
“I hate stories like that,” Bess said. “People should help each other just for the sake of doing a kind deed—not because they’re scared not to, or for some reward.”
“You mean like Sarah Jane helps Aunt Lillian.”
Now it was Bess’s turn to sigh. “And we’re always teasing her about it. I guess you’re right. We should have been looking for talking spoons and the like.”
“Nobody even knows we’re here, do they?” Laurel said.
“Except for the little man who dumped us here.”
Neither said anything for a long moment.
“Did I mention how much I hate the dark?” Laurel finally asked.
“Maybe once.”
Laurel squeezed Bess’s hand. If she had to be stuck in a place like this, there was no one else she’d rather be with. This was how they came into the world, the two of them, together in the dark womb. Perhaps they were going to go out in the darkness as well. That made her think about her life and what she’d done with it. Sarah Jane had a few years’ worth of good deeds in her favor. What did she have?
“So, do you think we’re shallow people?” she asked.
“No,” Bess said. “We’re passionate about music, aren’t we? I don’t think that shallow people are passionate about anything.”
“Music. That’s what got us here in the first place. There was some kind of magic in that fiddling, wasn’t there? You knew right away, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know, exactly,” Bess said. “But I knew something wasn’t right.” Laurel thought Bess was finished, but after a moment Bess added, “Maybe we should make our own magic music.”
“With what? We don’t have any instruments.”
“We could lilt a tune.”
“And do what with it?” Laurel asked. “If you’ve been taking magic lessons, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Well, at least it would help to pass the time.”
“That’s true.”
They both fell quiet until Laurel finally said, “I can’t think of a single tune.”
“This from the girl who was ready to have a tune contest with a woody fairy man.”
“I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid,” Bess said. “You were enchanted. It’s not the same thing.”
“I suppose. Oh, I know. We could try that version of ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’ that we never got to play at the dance last night.”
“I don’t know. I think it’d be too hard without my banjo. How about ‘Sourwood Mountain’ instead?”
“Okay.”
Bess started to hum the tune. When Laurel came in with a high “diddly-diddly” lilting, Bess joined her, the two of them taking turns harmonizing on the melody. They went from tune to tune, sticking with those that were associated with the Stanley Brothers, since that was how they’d started, and it was as though they were sitting in on a session with instruments in hand. Everything went away, except for the music. It didn’t particularly help them in their present situation, but it did make them feel better.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sarah Jane
let Aunt Lillian and the Apple Tree Man take the lead and followed behind with Li’l Pater at my side. The little cat man still seemed put out that I hadn’t wanted to include him in our party and wasn’t speaking to me, but that was okay. I didn’t really want to talk to anybody. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. I just wanted my sisters to be safe again.
The only thing that made any of this even remotely bearable was seeing how well Aunt Lillian and the Apple Tree Man were getting along. It was as though she’d shed a whole mess of years—her back was straighter, and she had a spring in her step and was giggling. Maybe it was something in the air of this place, but more likely it had to do with the fact that the Apple Tree Man was finally back in her life.
Personally, I don’t know what she saw in him. Now, he wasn’t butt-ugly, but he sure wasn’t going to win himself any prizes for handsomeness, either. I guess it’s that he just wasn’t human, not with his gnarly limbs and that barky skin with all those twigs and leaves and such growing out of him every which where. I’d have thought that maybe at Aunt Lillian’s age, courting wasn’t so important anymore, but she was acting just like Adie or the older twins do when they’re flirting with some fellow.
“How come you’re so mad at me?” Li’l Pater said.
I turned to him. “What?”
“Well, you must be, the way you’re giving me the silent treatment and all.”
I didn’t really want to be talking about this with him, but I supposed it would be a distraction from worrying about my sisters.
“I’m not mad at you,” I said. “I don’t even know you.”
“And that’s why you don’t want my help.”
“Look,” I told him. “The Apple Tree Man vouches for you, and Aunt Lillian vouches for him, so here we all are.”
“But you don’t want me to be here, do you?”
“I just want my sisters to be safe.”
“We’ll rescue them,” he said with a confidence I didn’t feel. “We’re in the middle of a story now and since we’re the heroes, it has to all come out right for us in the end. You’ll see.”
“Except in their minds, the bee fairies and ’sangmen
are the heroes. Who’s to say that the story won’t go their way?”
“I never thought about that.”
“Well, don’t,” I told him, already regretting that I’d put the notion in his head. Mama often said that putting bad thoughts into the air by speaking them aloud was a sure way to call bad luck to you. “I like the way you think it’ll all work out.”
I was so busy talking to Li’l Pater that I bumped right into the Apple Tree Man, never having realized that he and Aunt Lillian had come to a stop.
“What is it?” I asked.
But I guessed pretty quickly, by the stony ground underfoot and the thick canopy of poplar and beech and oak. We were on familiar ground, standing at the top of a slope running down into a ’sang field, the plants growing thick and tall below us. We could have been in the same one that I found the ’sangman in yesterday. I suppose some places aren’t that much different from one world to the other.
“I’m going to call the ’sangmen to us,” the Apple Tree Man said. “Unless they ask you a question directly, let me do the talking.”
I gave him a reluctant nod, still not trusting him as much as Aunt Lillian apparently did.
“And if you do have to answer a question,” he added, “give them the answer and nothing more.”
“Do you know these people?” I asked.
“We’ve met, but I’ve never spent much time with them. I don’t cotton to the whole idea of courts and royalty and all the way some of the fairies do.”
“Why not?”
“Well, the trouble with courts,” the Apple Tree Man said, “is you’re stuck with a king or a queen, and they almost always think that the whole world turns around them.”
I knew a few folks like that back in our own world.
“I like to go my own way,” he added, “and not be beholden to anyone else.”
I knew a bunch of folks like that, too, starting with pretty much my whole family.
“I’ll follow your lead,” I told him.
He called out, making a sound that was like a cross between the nasal yank-yank of a nuthatch and a fox’s bark. I gave Aunt Lillian a look, but she was studying the land below. When I turned to have my own look at the ’sang field, I saw them come popping up all over the patch, little ’sangmen and women, all gnarled and rooty like the wounded fellow I’d rescued—the one that had gotten us all into this mess in the first place.
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