Fairy Thief (29 page)

Orji stood up, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the back of her head.

She could feel his eyes piercing her skull, so she squared her shoulders and refused to turn around. She threatened to whack Deva’s nose if she didn’t stop eating. Deva head-butted her and sent her flying into a thorny thicket. Saffron screeched when she felt the thorns slice her. Deva went back to her very sweet, five-leafed-clover patch.

Orji walked away. Earlier, on the way to the forest from the field, he had noticed a path that led along the edge of the field in the opposite direction from their camp. He intended to follow this path now, and hoped it led to a town.

There was a buzzing in the air, not unlike the grating strum of cicadas in August. As the sun beat down on him, he made his way along a freshly-mown field. He breathed deep and willed the heavenly smell of cut grass to come back to him. Surely, there must be inhabitants close by. He whistled a tune and hopped over fallen logs. Pink butterflies floated about his head and clung to his shirt — obviously attracted by the shirt’s dark red color. They soon formed a cloud around him. It wasn’t too unpleasant — they weren’t buzzing in his ears, or trying to take a bite out of him. But, they did make it somewhat difficult for him to see. Soon there were so many, he was stumbling along the path.

“
Take that; you Daffrigits!”

A stream of liquid blasted Orji in the face. It smelled like vinegar, as if someone had just hit him with a torrent of pickle juice from a water gun. It trickled down his chin and soaked the front of his shirt. “Blah!” He grimaced and spat out the briny liquid.

The cloud of pink butterflies dissipated.

“
What’s the matter, there, you? You go out de house without your shnagu?”

The old man — no teeth, tattered clothes — was eyeing Orji suspiciously. At least Orji
assumed
the old man was ‘eyeing’ him. How could anyone tell? Instead of sunglasses, the old guy wore a curtain rod on his head – a curved rod, fastened into the hood of his cloak with a little curtain hanging from it that covered his eyes.

Orji found it disconcerting to talk to the man. He didn’t know what feature to focus on when he spoke to the guy. He preferred to look into people’s eyes when he spoke, that way he could read their true feelings; because the words people spoke were often not as true as the expression in their eyes. He cleared his throat. “I’ve misplaced my
shnagu,
actually.” He shrugged and looked at the man’s chapped lips. He winced and spit out more of the vile fluid. “Blek! What
is
that?”

The old man jerked his head back. He suddenly looked very nervous, as if he realized, too late, that he was with a crazy person.

Uh-oh — wrong thing to say, Orji. Now Pops is more than suspicious — good going.
He spoke quickly. “My mother’s recipe, you know, for that stuff…hers is not so….”

“
Oh, gee — then you taint from round here, are yer? It’s all the same round here, now, isn’t it?”

“
Yeah, you’re right — I’m not from round here. I’m from the North….”

“
Yah, yah, that makes sense — they talk funny from up de North.”

Orji displayed his Village Idiot smile. He silently reminded himself to shut up. It was good advice that got him out of many dicey situations —
When in doubt, shut up.

Alarm froze the features of the man with the walnut-shell skin. He pounded a beetle with his walking stick. He looked around – probably hoping for back-up. Suddenly, he mumbled something that sounded like a departing comment and skulked away. He turned his hidden face towards Orji to keep an eye on him from behind the veil. When he was a good distance away, he turned back and yelled, “You know, tis vulgar to walk around so, without your shnagu — take care thems don’t pick up you! Tis disgusting what you do!” Now the old man was good and mad. He jerked himself around and stomped off down the path.

Orji was trying to sum this all up when he noticed something else that was very odd. As the old man stalked away, Orji was shocked to see the guy’s bum – there was a hole in his pants big enough to expose the whole thing! Orji stood still, thinking, for several moments. He decided to walk on and inspect more villagers before he jumped to any conclusions and took on any changes.

Soon enough, he found the village nestled in a valley, looking like a conglomeration of tiny pyramids. From the safety of a bush he spied on the townsfolk. His fears were confirmed — like the old man, all of their backsides were exposed to the wind. He sat back in the cover of the shrubbery and contemplated his next move. There wasn’t much he could do about the whole situation, but join them. With a shrug, he took off his pants. He withdrew a pocketknife and got to work. When he cut the bum out of the pants he saved the severed piece of leather to use as his face covering. He wouldn’t be able to see through it, but he had no other cloth on hand, and no fairies to whip some up. He scratched around and found a pliable twig to use for the curtain rod. He cut two holes in his hood, one on either side of his face, and hung the tiny thing, rod and leather, across his eyes. It was completely awkward. He had to reach up every few seconds and adjust his handiwork. Finally, he gave up adjusting and cracked the stick, so it settled tee-pee-like on the bridge of his nose. It was the ugliest pince-nez ever.

When Orji was done fighting with the mask, he held his pants up to appraise that bit of work — it wasn’t designer quality, but it would do. He slid the pants on, shivered as the air caressed him, and walked into the village. A smile spread across his face as he thought of Saffron, and what she would look like with her pants “altered.” He walked along the town thoroughfare with his head tilted back and his eyes peering from beneath his ‘veil.’

A plump woman greeted him as she passed. “Jolly-jolly,” she said. Her tilted head faced him longer than was comfortable. But, she moved on.

He stumbled on a rock, caught himself, and kept going. He supposed he looked strange — but not too strange — and might be able to pull this off without alarming anyone. Next, a young woman passed, all the right curves in all the right places. He nodded at her, drawled a seductive, “Jolly-jolly,” and then tried to control his grin as he snuck a look at her after she passed. His jaw dropped and he stared harder.
Oh, sweet alien gods, I sing your praises on this day!”
He was still grinning madly when he was shoved from behind.

“
You okay there, bull?” A big, brute of a man stood sweaty and heaving before him. The brute man clenched his fist so his knuckles cracked. His veil fluttered lightly as he exhaled through his piggy nostrils.

“
Yeah, I’m alright.” Orji rolled his eyes. A thug was a thug was a thug, in any realm. “How bout you?” Orji was glad he couldn’t smell — the man had a host of flies milling around his body.

The brute made no move, just towered like a redwood tree, and looked silly behind his delicate veil.

“
Yeah, I gotta go.” Orji would have loved to take a jab at the oaf, but they weren’t done in this realm yet. He rolled to his right and disappeared in the thick and flowing crowd of the small city. The brute didn’t bother to follow him. Orji moved awkwardly. Sometimes, he looked down to shuffle around various feet, his leather veil falling forward and allowing him a good view of the ground. Sometimes stuck his nose in the air and peeked out from underneath it. This method soon proved dangerous, as people gasped and backed away from him when they caught sight of his eyeballs.

He grew short-tempered and dreamed of jumping someone, dragging him into the woods, and taking the man’s little veil. He was gathering more and more attention. Then, as if in answer to his unspoken prayer, he found himself beside a little shop that sold veils. He quickly moved inside. As soon as he entered, a short man approached him, and asked if he could be of service. The clerk eyed Orji at length. “Oh, my, my, my,” the man bubbled, “of course I can help. What is this here, this shnagu, you’re wearing currently?” The man bit his bottom lip as if to hold back a smirk.

“
This veil wasn’t cheap, you know, and it’s all the rage up de North!” Orji sniped.

The smirk left the clerk’s face. His cheeks turned a bright, siren-red. “But, of course, sir. Forgive me...I am not worldly, and would be forever in your debt if you would be so kind as to fill me in on all of the latest Northern fashions!” The clerk snapped his mouth shut, and stood waiting.

“
I wish to shop in peace!” Orji boomed, and waved the clerk away.

“
Oh, yes, sir! Yes, sir — whatever you wish!” The clerk was off with a flutter of his fine veil.

As soon as the clerk’s back was turned, Orji grabbed a handful of veils from a nearby basket and, with the other hand, a clutch of rods. They were safely stuffed in his pants long before the clerk reached his desk and turned back towards the store with an air of snooty indifference.

Orji picked up an unusually sheer veil and brought it to the clerk. “What about this one — will this do?” Orji held the super-sheer veil before the clerk.

“
Oh, well, yes. Well, she must be a fiery one to wear this! This is practically see-through! This, sir, is for a very racy lady. This is perfect for the intimate evening alone.”

“
Hold this aside then; I’ll have my wife come try it on later.”

“
Most certainly, sir!”

Orji caught a glimpse of the price sticker; it had a lot of symbols on it. Must be why the clerk was suddenly so joyful.

“
For you, sir, I shall hold it till closing!”

Orji strolled back outside. He casually made his way behind a large pyramid – it looked like a maintenance supply shop. He felt around in his pants for the contraband and fitted a veil over a rod. He forced each rod-end through the holes in his hood. Better already — he could see through the veil, and since the rod was thicker than the tree limb he had just used, it fit into the holes on his hood more snugly, and was not apt to fall down.

He took a moment to tamp down his indignant pride. He had never stolen anything before. But, they all had a job to do in finding this freak of a fairy, and he thought it a good idea to go out among the people – he always learned something important when he mingled with the natives. Saffron was correct in one respect — if they did find Ny in a certain realm, and needed time to rescue Markis, then they had better know something of the local culture and customs so that they had a better chance of blending and avoiding being found out as realm-hoppers. To be among the people in this realm, alterations were called for. He stuffed the remaining veils and rods into a pocket on the inside of his cloak and rejoined the crowds on the city streets.

Now, he was seeing quite a bit more than he had before. Men, in bottomless-butt suits relieved their bladders, just off the sidewalk. When they were done, they fastened their pants and walked on — as if they had merely stopped to smell the roses. Not one person in the crowd looked on as if anything were amiss. On a park bench, two mothers nursed their babies — breasts exposed, and eye-veils firmly in place. Up ahead, in what looked to be the city center, there was a very large wooden, wooden block bench — about twenty feet across and ten feet wide. About every four feet, there was a hole in the box, so half of each side held a row of five holes. It appeared to be a giant domino with ten dots on it — but this was no giant domino.

Orji realized, all at once, what is was, and although he considered himself to be a man who had seen it all, a man jarred by nothing — well, he simply couldn’t believe this. He held his breath and winced. This “domino” was, in fact, a big bank of toilets. Passersby simply walked up to a hole, sat down (there were a few with reading materials), and got on about usual toileting activities. Again, not one person took a second to stop and stare, or even do a double-take. No one but Orji.

A ball rolled across the street and knocked into Orji’s feet. It startled him out of his reverie. He picked it up, looked around, and saw two young boys waiting for him to return it to them. He walked the ball over to them.

“
Hello, men, how are you?” The two veiled heads looked at each other in confusion.

Orji blundered on, “Jolly-jolly, boys! I’m not from around here. I was wondering if you could tell me why those men over there are peeing on that tree, and why those women over there have no tops on while they feed their babies?”

The veiled heads looked at each other again. Finally, “Whadaya mean?” The boy with the brown hair shrugged, “You gotta pee, you pee — you gotta feed the baby, you feed the baby.” He shrugged again.

“
Well, I think some people would say a man can’t pee on that tree because it’s not clean….”

“
Listen buddy, if my dog can pee on that tree, then I sure as hell can — nature is nature right?” He took a step back from Orji.