Fairy Lies (7 page)

Dasras was waiting for her on the path, looking as if he had something to say, but before Tamisin reached him, a tiny fairy flew down to whisper something in his ear and darted away again.

“I have to go,” Dasras told her, his eyes alight with excitement. “Oberon wants me to attend him. He often has me run errands for him or listen when he has a problem to work out. He knows that I can be discreet, unlike most of the fairies here. You’ll have to see Malcolm on your own now. Just follow that path and you’ll find him.”

Tamisin looked where Dasras had pointed and saw the beginning of a faint trail. She had just started toward the path when a flash of red darted past, drawing her gaze after it. It was a cardinal that disappeared into the briars with the barest shiver of leaves. When Tamisin turned around again, she took one step and stopped. The path Dasras had pointed out had ended abruptly.

“He must have meant a different one,” she said out loud, and looked about until she spotted another only a few yards on. This path was smoother than the first and easier on her bare feet. It was a meandering route that took her past a gnome carving a chunk of wood who glowered at her when she stopped to see what he was making. A little farther on, a pair of bird-goblin girls were sorting two huge baskets of seeds. They looked up at her approach and turned their backs on her when she smiled at them.

She soon came upon three nymphs standing up to their waists in a small pond scrubbing laundry. “Hello!” called the youngest as Tamisin paused to watch.

“Shh!” said an older nymph. “You’re not supposed to talk to them unless they talk to you.”

“Why?” asked the young nymph.

“Yes, why?” Tamisin asked.

The two older nymphs looked shocked, but the younger one seemed interested. “Because fairies don’t like talking to us if they don’t have to,” said the nymph whose hair was the darkest green.

“Why is that?” asked Tamisin. The younger nymph turned to her friends as if she, too, were waiting to hear their answer.

“I don’t know,” said one of the older nymphs.

The other shrugged, saying, “It’s always been that way.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” said Tamisin. “You can talk to me whenever you want.”

“I’d like that!” said the youngest nymph. Tilting her head to the side, she gave Tamisin an appraising look. “I’ve never seen you before. Why are you here? No one comes here unless they have a reason.”

“I’m on my way to see Malcolm the brownie. I’m going to ask him to make me some shoes.”

“Ooh, shoes!” said the youngest nymph. “I wish I could have some shoes.”

One of the other nymphs snorted with laughter. “What would you do with shoes? You never get out of the water!”

“You’re going in the wrong direction if you want to see Malcolm. The brownies live back that way,” said the oldest nymph, pointing at a right angle to Tamisin’s path. “Someone should have come with you to take you there. If you keep going on this path, you’ll end up in the Land of Forgetfulness and wander there forever.”

“Someone was with me, but he was called away. Is there anyone around who can take me to see Malcolm now?” asked Tamisin.

“I can help you,” said the youngest nymph. Dipping her hands into the water, she scooped some out and began to shape it into a ball. The water behaved sort of like snow, keeping its shape as the nymph hurled the ball in the direction of Malcolm’s home. The ball flew a few yards over the forest floor and stopped almost as if it were waiting.

“Follow the ball. It will take you all the way to Malcolm’s house, but you have to hurry,” said the nymph. “The water will start leaking soon, and then it will be gone before you know it.”

“Thank you!” said Tamisin. “You’ve been very helpful.”

All three nymphs grinned up at her. “You’re very welcome,” said one.

“Come back and visit us again,” said another.

The third just blew her a kiss and waved.

Tamisin was pleased to have a guide, but following the ball wasn’t going to be easy. Instead of taking a path, it was going straight through the forest, flying over tree stumps and across a wide gully. Tamisin glanced down at her bare feet, then back at the wild roses growing beside the path. “I
am so not doing this,” she declared. Shrugging, she released her wings and stretched them behind her.

“Ooh!” she heard the youngest nymph say as Tamisin took to the air.

Following the ball was faster now, and she was glad she was using her wings when she saw the depth of the gully and the jagged rocks at the bottom. She enjoyed darting around trees and over brush that she normally wouldn’t have gone near, and in less than a minute the dripping ball had stopped in front of a squat little cottage with a door no higher than her knees.

Tamisin looked around as she landed, but there was no one there to ask if she had indeed reached the right place. When she bent down and rapped on the door with her knuckles, someone inside the house groaned. Loud footsteps tapped across the floor, then wood scraped on wood. Tamisin stepped back when the door swung open, revealing a little man dressed in shades of brown squinting up at her.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Are you Malcolm the brownie?”

The little man rolled his eyes. “Who else would I be, I’d like to know. Look at me,” he said, stepping out of the gloom of his house into the sunlight. Not only were his long-sleeved shirt and trousers brown but so were his fringed boots, his curly hair, his well-trimmed beard, and his deep-set eyes. Tamisin tried not to stare at the hair on the tips of his pointed ears.

“I guess you like the color brown,” said Tamisin.

“What? You think I’m called a brownie because I like brown? Does that mean I’d be called a greenie if I were wearing green? No, it does not! I meant look at my size, you big oaf!” he shouted, stamping his foot. “Brownies are little, like me! Oh, I give up. Go away and come back when you’ve grown a brain.”

The little man stomped back to his door and had one foot over the threshold when Tamisin asked, “If you won’t make me some shoes, could you at least recommend someone who can?”

The brownie stopped as if he’d been hit with a brick. “Did you say shoes?” he asked without turning around.

“I’m not used to going without them,” she said, and held up a bare foot. It was scraped and dirty, and her skin was pale from lack of sun, but at least she’d put on pretty pink nail polish a few days before.

The brownie turned around slowly. His mouth was quivering and he had a glazed look on his face. “Shoes,” he breathed and lowered his eyes to her still raised foot. “You want shoes for these?”

Tamisin nodded, then realized he wasn’t looking at her face. “That’s right. I was told that you could make them for me. That is, if you’re Malcolm the brownie.”

“Of course I’m Malcolm,” the brownie snapped, coming out of his daze. “Have a seat on that stump. I’ll be right back.”

Tamisin glanced behind her and found a stump beside the path. The top was smooth and the sides had been carved with pictures of shoes. There were pointy-toed shoes and
curly-toed shoes, high-heeled shoes and flat-heeled shoes, shoes with ribbons and shoes with buckles, thigh-high boots and light, strappy sandals. Tamisin walked around the stump, examining it from all sides. “Wow!” she said, spotting some delicate slippers with vines for laces that wound up the wearer’s legs. “I want those, please!” she said as the little man came out of his house, carrying a basket nearly as big as himself.

“First things first!” he said, setting his basket beside the stump. “Sit down so I can measure your feet.” He waited as she took a seat on the stump, tilting his head from side to side as he studied her foot. Then he picked it up and rubbed the dirt off her heel. “Nice foot! Very nice, indeed. I like them big like this, although I’ve never seen a fairy with such big feet before. And you’ve obviously used them for walking. Most fairies would rather fly than walk, which is why their shoes last so long.”

“Do you make many shoes?” asked Tamisin.

“I used to,” the brownie said, sounding wistful. “Before I came here, my shoes were always in demand. I made shoes for every being with feet who wanted to look stylish, but I got so good that Oberon decided I should work only for his court.”

“But if they don’t have enough work to keep you busy . . .”

Malcolm snorted. “There are two sides to every coin. The fairies want the best shoes for themselves, and they want to keep other beings from having them. You’ll never meet a fairy who doesn’t think of himself first. They’re
the most selfish creatures I’ve ever . . . Uh, sorry! I forgot for a moment that you’re a fairy. Your feet . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Tamisin said. “I’m not offended. And from what I’ve seen, you’re absolutely right.”

The brownie gave her an odd look before reaching into his basket. Taking out a knotted string, he held it up to her foot. When the string was too short, he reached into his basket for another that was three times as long. “That’s better,” he said, pulling the string taut from her toes to her heel. “Are you sure you don’t have ogre blood in you?”

“Not as far as I know,” Tamisin replied, watching as he wrote something on a leaf he’d taken from the basket.

“Huh,” he said, and sat back on his haunches. “I can make you the shoes you picked out, but are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a pair like mine?” He held up his own booted foot and waggled it at her, making the fringe flop back and forth.

“No, thanks,” Tamisin said, moving her feet out of his reach. “How long do you think it will take you to make them?”

“Not long,” he said.

“Tamisin!” a faint voice called.

Although Tamisin couldn’t see anyone, she recognized the voice as Dasras’s. If she took to the air, she could probably find him easily enough. She glanced at the brownie again, saying, “Do you have all the measurements you need?” When he nodded, she stood and spread her wings behind her. “In that case, I should go. Someone is looking for me. Thank you for the shoes.”

Malcolm frowned. “Your name is Tamisin? But isn’t that the name of . . . Oh, my! You’re the one who’s supposed to be Oberon’s daughter?” He looked at her foot again, and his frown deepened.

“That’s right,” Tamisin said. “How much will I owe you?”

“Owe me? Why, nothing. The fairies here never pay me for their shoes. It’s how I serve the fairy king. Why do you ask?”

“Where I come from, people pay a lot for shoes. Especially ones as nicely made as those,” she said, indicating his boots.

“Really?” he asked, his pointed ears pricking up with interest. “And where is that?”

“The human world,” she said, and took to the air as his eyes grew big and round.

Chapter 6

Jak stepped through the gate into the land of the fey and gazed up at the branches swaying high overhead, stealing a moment to enjoy the clean scent of the trees and the open air. He loved the human world, where no one made fun of him for being a halfling, and he could imagine himself spending the rest of his life there, but it was more crowded than the land of the fey and a whole lot dirtier. Not even the parks or undeveloped land in the human world smelled anything like this. With no cars or factories or masses of people gathered together, the land of the fey still smelled the way it always had and, he hoped, the way it always would.

The last time he’d been here he had been with Tamisin, and nothing had gone as planned. She had discovered that her mother was the fairy queen, and he had fallen in love with her, a half-fairy girl. For the first few months after they had returned to the human world, they had been in love and happy. Jak had never fallen out of love, but
it seemed that once they argued, Tamisin no longer loved him. She had stopped speaking to him then, and no matter how often he called or tried to talk to her at school, she had refused to listen. Jak had missed her more with each day. Catching glimpses of her in the hallway had made going to school so painful that he had begun to think about returning to the land of the fey to live. Instead, she had gone there without him. Jak was worried not only for her safety but because he had no idea how she would react when she saw him.

He was headed downhill when he came across a trickling stream with water so clear that he could see silver-scaled fish darting among the rocks. Thirsty, he bent down and cupped his hands, scooping up water to drink. He was still bent over when he noticed that a reflection had appeared in the water beside his. Sunlight was glinting off the water just enough to make it hard to see, but then he realized what it was and his head snapped around. A leering wolf goblin stood behind him, only a few feet away. His hair was silver, but his face looked only a few years older than Jak’s.

“Look at what I found, boys!” the wolf goblin said over his shoulder. “A cat goblin! I haven’t chased a cat goblin in ages.”

Another young wolf goblin appeared from behind a massive trunk on the opposite side of the stream. His eyes seemed to glow golden even in the shadows of the trees. “None of us have. Not since before Wulfrin made a pact with the leader of the cat-goblin clan.”

“But that pact was dissolved when your leader made a treaty with Titania,” the silver-haired goblin told Jak. “And that means that you’re fair game again.”