A Dreadful Fairy Book

by Jon Etter

  “Yuck, no!” Shade said, backing away from the wulver and into a gnarled, wrinkled old trow with a cart filled with little glass bottles.

  “Well, look at adorable little you,” the old fairy cooed. “In the market for a love potion?”

  “Absolutely not,” Shade stated.

  “Don’t be so quick, dearie,” the trow said, pinching Shade’s cheeks. “With the extra puddin’ you’ve got under the skin, you probably need—”

  “To be left alone by crooks like you, Auntie Griselda. Push off!” A sprite with cobalt blue skin and white hair took Shade by the arm and steered her toward tables filled with jewelry set up in front of a covered wooden wagon with a door in its side. Shade gawped at the sprite, who looked like none she had ever seen before. It wasn’t his coloring—the Skyflit family back in Pleasant Hollow had similar skin, hair, and wings—it was the way he was dressed. Instead of the simple silk and leaf tunic belted at the waist worn by everyone Shade had ever known, this sprite, who only seemed a little older than her, wore a dazzling white shirt that made his blue skin look even bluer, black pants, and a tight-fitting black leather waistcoat that matched his shiny boots. On every finger, jewel-encrusted rings glittered. “You okay?”

  Shade, realizing she was staring, looked away. “Uh, yeah, I was just—”

  “Overwhelmed, right?” the sprite said, flashing her a smile that included a gold tooth in the middle. “Yes, I can remember when I first came to the goblin market as a wee little shaver. Got lost and cried my eyes out until my dad finally found me. Now, I’m a fixture around here—Pyrite the Bedazzler, finest purveyor of jewelry in the kingdom! So what’s your name and where are you from, little lady?”

  “The name’s Shade,” she answered, a little leery. Physically he was, as his name stated, dazzling, but she found his manner a bit overbearing. In spite of that, his handsome features and the way he looked at her—admiringly, like someone appraising a rare and valuable gem, instead of with the disdain she was used to seeing in the eyes of the sprites of Pleasant Hollow—felt intoxicating. “And—”

  “Lovely name! Just lovely! Changed or shortened it, did you? A lass after my own heart!” Pyrite put his hand up and spoke behind it as if to conceal a secret, even though he said just as loud, “Pyrite’s not my real name either, but it’s a lot easier for folks to remember than those ridiculous mouthfuls we usually get saddled with, am I right?”

  “And,” Shade continued, crossing her arms in annoyance at being interrupted while also blushing from Pyrite’s compliment, “to finish answering your question, I’m from Pleasant Hollow.”

  “Oh, lovely village, Pleasant Hollow! Why, my uncle lives there!”

  “Really?” Shade was skeptical. “What’s his name?”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t know him,” Pyrite replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now, we sprites need to stick together—I wouldn’t want any of the sharpies around here to think you were some bumpkin that they could take advantage of. So let me just say that, in my professional opinion, such a beautiful lady as you should be adorned with something similarly elegant and beautiful to help you shine, am I right?”

  Before Shade could object, Pyrite grabbed a reddish gold necklace in the middle of which hung a leaf made of emeralds, and in an instant, she was wearing it. As the emeralds twinkled, and the gold flashed in the torchlight. Shade was convinced it was the most beautiful thing that wasn’t a book that she had ever seen. “This is—”

  “Just perfect for you, my lovely little acorn. Spratling!” he called over his shoulder as he continued to smile his ivory and gold smile at her, “Bring the looking glass so this lady can admire herself.”

  The door on the wagon opened and a squat, tired-looking kobold in dirt-stained clothes, his long, pointy ears and nose all drooping, limped down the stairs, a bronze chain clanking from his manacled ankle. “Here,” he sighed, holding up a small mirror.

  “See how a little dazzle can unlock a person’s beauty? The gold brings out the little flecks of gold in those lovely eyes, and the green is a perfect compliment for your flawless dark skin! Am I right, or am I right?” Pyrite gushed.

  Shade had to admit that he was right. Seeing herself with the necklace made her feel more sophisticated somehow. Almost regal. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful! Part of her wished that some of the sprites she had grown up with who had made fun of her “boring mudskin” and “chubby blueberry body” could see her just then. “It certainly is beautiful—” she began.

  “Catch that, Spratling?” Pyrite said, nudging the kobold, before calling out loudly, “Hey Schlumberger! The little lady loves your leaf necklace!”

  A gruff voice from behind the wagon shouted, “Get donkled, ya crooked coal-chewer!”

  The insult and a clanking of the kobold’s chains snapped Shade out of her reverie, and she caught a brief look of disgust and rage pass over Pyrite’s face. What before had seemed so handsome and winning about Pyrite now seemed sinister. She took the necklace off and held it out to Pyrite. “I’m sorry. I can’t buy this. I—”

  Pyrite held up his hands. “No, do not give it back! It looks too perfect on you! I insist you take it.”

  Shade thought about the tips from Radishbottom’s book. “What’s the price?”

  “Oh, let’s not worry about that, shall we?” Pyrite said. “What’s important is making sure that something of beauty finds its place in the world, and that necklace there belongs—”

  “Right here with you.” Shade forced it into Pyrite’s hand.

  He sighed and shook his head. “So sad. So sad. Well, is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “I’m looking for books. Do you know where I can find any?”

  Pyrite put his arm around her shoulders, which made her squirm. “Don’t see many books around this market, little lady. Best try the junk peddlers—they have a little bit of everything. Start with Sanford, over near the northern wall. If he’s got nothing, come back, and I’ll think of someone else for you to try and something else for you to try on that might win that heart of yours, my singularly sweet little sprite.”

  “Thanks.” With no intention of coming back, Shade turned to go and bumped straight into Rigoletto Ginch. The Professor, who stood next to him, smiled then hugged her, patting her vigorously on the backpack while he did so, until she managed to push him off. “What are you two doing here? Are you following me?”

  “No, of course we no follow you!” Ginch declared. The Professor nodded. “Okay, we follow you a little bit, but—”

  “Thief! Thief!” Pyrite started shouting. “Security! We have a thief here!”

  Shade punched Ginch in the arm. “What did you two take?”

  “We no steal-a nothing!” Ginch objected, waving his arms. “He’s-a try to—”

  “All right, all right. What’s all this then?” asked a red-capped goblin with the black fur and head of a German shepherd as he smacked a wooden club into his hand. Behind him stood a red-capped spriggan, fishing around his yellowed, jagged teeth with a toothpick. A crowd gathered to see the commotion.

  “I demand justice!” Pyrite declared. He pointed his finger in Shade’s face. “That fairy has stolen from me!”

  I know, gentle Reader, I know. Here was a perfect chance for the writer to unite Shade with a fellow sprite and teach us all something about the importance of kindness and helpfulness and maybe even some interesting facts about gemology and jewelry making. And what do we get instead? Lies and treachery. Why, if I weren’t contractually obligated to narrate this story from start to finish, I’d storm off in a huff! Since, unfortunately, I cannot, I encourage you to storm off in the huffiest huff you are capable of. I’ll wait here until you’re done.

  In which Shade acquires a

  fabulous new outfit and companions

  of questionable character . . .

  “What? No! I didn’t—How could I—” Shade sputtered.

  “
Officers, it’s like this,” Pyrite began, his face taking on a look of sadness and wounded honor. “This little sprite, who seemed so sweet and innocent, tried to take advantage of my good nature.”

  “Why you—I never!” Shade shoved him. The spriggan instantly grabbed her with his long, leathery talons and held her in place.

  “I regret to say it’s true. Search her bag and you’ll find a lovely gold and emerald necklace,” Pyrite said, shaking his head sadly. The spriggan released one of Shade’s arms and started rummaging through the backpack.

  “Hey!” Shade objected. “I’m innocent, and he’s a lying sack of squirrel scat!”

  Pyrite pointed to a little hobgoblin standing nearby. “You saw her admiring that necklace, didn’t you?”

  The hobgoblin nodded. “Seemed quite taken with it, she did.”

  “Of course she was! I have the finest jewelry in the market!” Pyrite declared proudly. “She made a big fuss over it then said she had to ‘think about it.’ As soon as she walked away, I noticed it wasn’t on my table—”

  “’T’ain’t ’ere,” the spriggan said, shaking his head.

  Pyrite frowned. “What do you mean it’s not there? I put . . . I mean, Spratling here must have seen the whole thing, right?”

  The gaunt little kobold looked pained. “I suppose.”

  “You saw her put it in her bag, didn’t you?” Pyrite glared at the kobold.

  “‘That’s-a no what happen,” Ginch said quickly. “I see-a the whole thing! When the little sproot go to leave, the Pryright—”

  “Pyrite,” Pyrite interrupted.

  “That’s-a what I say. So the Pryright, he stuff-a the necklace in his pocket and start-a the yellin’! You check-a his pockets, and you see!”

  “What? That’s ridiculous! I would never—Hey! Get away from me, you stupid pixie!” Pyrite yelled, slapping at the Professor as he stuffed his hands in Pyrite’s pockets. Pyrite gave the Professor a hard shove that sent him sprawling on the ground. In one hand, held high, was the necklace.

  “See! I tell-a you!”

  Pyrite grabbed the necklace out of the pixie’s hand. “No! That’s not—”

  “It’s true!” Spratling squealed. “That’s exactly what happened! Arrest him!”

  “Yes!” shouted a wrinkled, bearded old dwarf in a grimy blacksmith’s apron as he jogged around the wagon, a bronze chain clattering on one foot and a smith’s hammer clutched in one hand. “He cheats customers all the time! Brags about it and about outsmarting you officers whenever he has the chance!”

  “Schlumberger! Spratling! I’m going to—Hey! Put me down, you oaf!” Pyrite shrieked as the spriggan threw Pyrite over his shoulder as he grew and grew until he towered over all the market-goers, most of whom were shouting for Pyrite’s arrest, imprisonment, or dismemberment. “I pay you goblins for protection!”

  “Market law’s market law,” the black-furred goblin declared loud enough for all to hear. Shade then heard him whisper, “You got sloppy, sprite, so we gotta make an example of you.”

  “‘Roight. Or mebbe a meal o’ ya,” the spriggan whispered to the kicking and screaming Pyrite as he carried him off.

  The crowd that had gathered either followed the goblin and spriggan to see what was to become of Pyrite or dispersed in search of deals and other entertainment. The dwarf and kobold laughed loudly as the dwarf knocked the chains off their legs.

  Shade was so relieved she felt like she might melt. She turned to Ginch and the Professor and said, “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. I guess it was pretty lucky that you saw him pocket that necklace,” Shade told Ginch.

  “He no put it in-a his pocket,” Ginch said.

  “What?”

  “The brownie’s right,” Spratling said. “He planted it in your backpack.”

  “Then how—?”

  “Oh, that’s-a easy. We see-a the crooked sproot put-a the necklace in you pack, so the Professor get-a it out of the pack and in the Pryright’s pocket,” Ginch explained. “See—you need-a more than a book to stay out of the trouble. From now on, you stick-a with us.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I was—” Shade started to say before Ginch and the Professor each threw an arm under each of hers and carried her off, her feet hanging an inch above the ground. “Hey!”

  “Wait!” Schlumberger called.

  Ginch and the Professor halted abruptly and exchanged a worried look. They turned themselves and Shade slowly around to face the dwarf and the kobold. “I’m-a sorry, but we gotta go right away to see a guy about a thing and—”

  “Not before we thank you properly,” Spratling said, placing the gold and emerald leaf necklace around Shade’s neck. Schlumberger held out diamond and ruby encrusted rings to the other two fairies, which swiftly disappeared in their pockets. “Payment for our freedom. If there’s ever anything we can do for you—”

  “Then you come straight to Schlumberger and Spratling, Jewelers Extraordinaire!” the dwarf finished.

  “Yeah, good luck with all of that,” Ginch said as he and the Professor swiftly walked Shade away. “Now we gonna help-a you out, little sproot.”

  “My name’s Shade.”

  “That’s-a the fine name, little sproot. First we get-a you the new clothes.”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” Shade said, looking down at her tan tunic.

  “I’m sure it’s-a fine for you little sproot village, but here it lacks-a the . . . the . . . ’Ey, Professor, what’s-a the word?” The Professor tilted his head back, looked down his nose at the brownie with a snooty air, and snapped his fingers. “That’s-a it! You lack-a the panache!”

  “Panache?”

  The Professor and Ginch nodded. “Yeah. You know, the style! You look-a like a rube, which is-a why we take-a you to see our favorite leprechaun.”

  Now I know what you’re thinking: At last, a proper fairy that isn’t villainous! A red-cheeked, red-haired mischievous imp clad in green capering about protecting his pot of gold and reluctantly granting wishes that backfire in hilarious ways! Oh, sweet Reader, your optimism is charming but heartbreaking, for in the store, crammed full of all manner of clothing and fabric that Ginch and the Professor dragged Shade to, sat an exceedingly overweight leprechaun with greasy black hair combed over his bald head wearing a sweat-stained white shirt and red velvet pants held up by black and white checkered suspenders. I truly am sorry, but dreadful fairies are what I have to work with here, so dreadful fairies it must be.

  Ginch gestured to the clothing, boots, and fabrics that filled the store from floor to ceiling. “Okay, little Sprootshade, meet Liam O’Buggery, the best leprechaun haberdasher in-a the world!”

  “He’s just saying dat,” Liam groaned as he strained to get up from the stool he was sitting on, “because oi let him and dat udder bucket o’ snots cheat me at cards.”

  The Professor smiled and fanned cards out in both of his hands. “If they cheat you, why do you keep playing with them?” Shade asked. “Seems pretty dumb to me.”

  “He’s-a got-a the gambling problem,” Ginch explained as Liam took the measuring tape hanging around his neck and held it up to Shade’s arm.

  “Yeah, and unloike all the udder gamblers in dis dunghole, dese two boggin’ tramp-heads don’t break yer arm when ye owe dem money. Dey just annoy ye half to death.”

  The Professor sprang across the store on his grasshopper legs and landed right next to him, pulling a slide whistle from his pocket mid-air. He gave it a few blows—Whee-oo! Whee-oo!—before the leprechaun slapped it out of his hands.

  “See?” Liam sighed. “Now hold still, lass, and let me work me magic.”

  And magic it was to Shade, who had never seen a leprechaun make clothes for a fairy before. Like a sweaty velvet tornado, he whirled around her and the shop, grabbing clothes and fabric, throwing them on her, cutting and trimming and sewing as he went, until he finally came to a stop,
panting hard.

  Shade walked over to a full-length mirror in the corner of the shop and looked at herself. Instead of her simple tunic, she wore a loose-fitting tan shirt with delicate lace trimming on its cuffs and collar, a supple, forest green vest with delicate and subtle gold embroidery that cinched in at the waist and extended half-way down her thighs, below which were green pants and hard leather boots. She thought she looked strong and beautiful, like her mother had when she put on her armor and went off to war. Shade felt transformed: the self-conscious little sprite with the courage to speak her mind but to do little more than that had been replaced by a brave, bold adventurer, ready and able to surmount any obstacle that might stand between her and her goal.

  “This is wonderful!” she gasped.

  The Professor skipped over, fastened the emerald necklace she thought she had hidden deep in her backpack around her neck, and then kissed his fingers. “There! The piece doo resist!” Ginch declared.

  The leprechaun shoved a long, brown leather coat into Shade’s hands. “Here, for when it gets nippy. Oi tink dat squares it, and oi’m rid of ye two eejits forever!”

  “That’s-a fine, Liam,” Ginch said as they exited the shop. “We see-a you at the Thursday card game?”

  The leprechaun sighed. “Aye, oi’ll be dere.”

  Outside the shop, Ginch and the Professor drew in close to Shade. “All right, now that you look-a respectable like us,” Ginch said as he and the Professor gestured up and down at their threadbare, ill-fitting outfits, “what-a you want here in Gypsum?”

  “I’m looking for books,” Shade replied.

  The Professor reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a book. The cover read “Pick a Pocket: A History of Stylistic and Functional Design in the Field of Applied Pocketry by Professor Lucius Theodosius Pinky.”

  “Thanks, but I’m looking for more than just one book,” Shade said, handing it back to the Professor, who promptly tucked it in a pocket in his jacket. “I’m looking for a place where there are lots of books. Books to fill days, weeks, years, maybe even centuries of reading time!”