Zally's Book (3 page)

She tilted her head and looked at me. “You may be sleeping in your own world, but you are awake here. And this is no ordinary dream. This is Aventurine. You could spend hours or weeks here while you're asleep in your own world. But you'll wake up in your own bed, and only one night will have passed.”

My mouth fell open. “Did you say Aventurine? It—it's real?”

She laughed, and I followed her down to the stream. We began to walk along it, the grass tickling my bare feet.

“Are you the queen of all Aventurine?” I asked.

“I am the queen of the Willowood tribe of fairies,” Queen Patchouli answered. “There are many more fairy queens throughout the land, each with her own queendom.”

“How many fairy godmothers are there?” I asked.

“How many people are in a family?” she asked me in return.

“How much of my family do you mean? Just my parents and brothers and me? Six. With Abuelita, seven.”

The fairy queen said, “That is just
your
family. But how many people are in
any
family?”

“That depends,” I answered. “Some families are very small. Or should I include cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents—great-grandparents, even? There are lots of ways to count family members, so there's no easy answer.”

She nodded. “That's how many fairy godmothers there are.”

I tried a different question. “Do I
know
any other fairy godmothers?”

“You know your mother and grandmother, don't you? You will learn to recognize others.”

“How long does it take to become a fairy godmother?” I asked, trying to get a real answer from her.

“How long does it take someone to become a brilliant musician?” Queen Patchouli countered.

“Everyone's different.” I frowned. “Some people don't want to become musicians. Some never get really good at it. Others are great right away. Then there are people who have to work hard for years until they get to the same point.”

“Exactly,” said Queen Patchouli.

Eventually we passed through a grove of trees, then out into a glade. There, more fairies walked or flitted about doing their work—whatever it is that fairies do. At the center of the glade stood a small desk and chair. On the desk was a stunning leather-bound book the size of a dictionary. I wondered if it might be an atlas, and hurried forward to look.

“This is
The Book of Dreams
, Zally,” Queen
Patchouli told me. “Before we discuss anything more, I need you to write your dream in it.”

“But I usually don't even remember my dreams,” I said.

The fairy queen smiled. “Those are not the sorts of dreams that are entered in
The Book of Dreams
. The book is for your hopes and desires. You could just write a hope for today, but far-ranging dreams are more satisfying for the book.”

“Okay,” I said, wondering if I really had a choice.

The queen motioned for me to sit at the desk.

I put my bag on the table by the book and sat down. “So Mamá and Abuelita wrote in here?”

“Yes,” the queen said, “as the other women of the Inocentes line did before them. But not every girl who
could
become a fairy godmother
does
become one. Some girls choose a different path. And some …”

“They don't make it?” I asked.

She nodded.

I swallowed hard.

“So, now you will write in
The Book of Dreams.”
Queen Patchouli waved her hand. A snow-white peacock appeared, strutting toward us. The bird fanned out its sparkling tail feathers proudly, nearly blinding me as they caught the sunlight.

“We need one of your feathers, my beautiful friend,” Queen Patchouli said.

Turning its back, the peacock shook itself, sending out a shower of light, and released a glittering white feather from its tail. The plume drifted gently to the ground. Murmuring her thanks, the fairy queen picked up the quill and placed it on top of
The Book of Dreams
. Then she lifted the lid off a shell bowl that sat near the book. Inside was a silver liquid.

“Your pen,” she said, touching the feather. “Your ink.” She pointed to the shell bowl. “Your paper,” she said as the pages turned on their own and opened to a blank one.

“Can I read what Mamá and Abuelita wrote?” I asked.

The fairy queen answered, “Perhaps, but you must write
your
dream first.”

I took a deep breath and picked up the feather. I dipped the end into the silver ink and wrote the first thing that rose to my mind.

I closed my eyes and pictured what I had already seen in Aventurine. Then, dipping the peacock quill back into the ink, I drew a map at the bottom of the page of the meadow, the willow trees, the stream, the forest, and the fairy glade. The ink dried instantly. A moment later, more details surfaced in the margins, and my silver lines were filled with brilliant colors until the page looked like an illuminated book from the Middle Ages.

A breeze blew in and ruffled the pages of the book again. It opened to a dream written in Abuelita's handwriting….

The pages fluttered, and
The Book of Dreams
closed with a thump. I was still in a bit of a daze when a new question occurred to me. “Abuelita said that we're of the Inocentes Lineage of fairy godmothers—women who help innocents. That's not what I wrote about in
The Book of Dreams
, though. What does making maps have to do with helping innocents?”

Queen Patchouli motioned for me to stand; then she led me down a new path. It looked like it was made of crystal shards, but it was soft against my bare feet.

The fairy queen considered my question before answering. “You will be helping fairy-godmothers-in-training who come after you to find their way when they go on their quests. It is a special gift that you have. No one has mapped Aventurine before. But mapping is not the only ability you will develop on your quest. Simply by going, you will learn many skills you need for helping innocents.”

“Quest?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“You will soon find out,” said the queen.

“And what exactly
is
an innocent?” I asked. “How can I tell if someone is innocent?”

Queen Patchouli tilted her head. The tiny bells on her earrings tinkled. “The fairy godmothers of the Inocentes Lineage are not asked to judge who is good
and who is evil so much as they are expected to help those who are in need—especially those who cannot help themselves. You will learn to recognize innocents, and you will be drawn to those who most need your help.”

¡Ay, mira!
That seemed like a lot to expect. I mean, I was just barely thirteen, and I thought working in our bakery was too much responsibility sometimes.

“We are here. You must get ready now,” the fairy queen said, glancing down at my bare feet. She made a swirling motion with one hand.

A circle of grass sprang up, like water spraying from a fountain. But instead of falling back down as water would, the ring of grass—almost ten feet high—stayed in place, swaying in the faint breeze. From the edge of the grass circle all the way to my feet, a pathway of springy soft moss, dotted with white flowers, grew in just a few seconds.

“Take your bag,” Queen Patchouli said. “Everything that you need will be in there.”

Picking up my bag from the ground, I felt for the cacao pod family talisman inside. It was still there. Then I walked down the path and used both hands to separate the stalks of grass at the edge of the circle so I could look inside. The circle was hollow. It formed a
tiny roofless room, like a changing room in a store—only alive. I stepped in, admiring the wildflowers that carpeted the ground. There was nothing else in the room.

I slipped the bag off my shoulder, and something sprang out of it. I dropped the bag and backed away. The something looked like a leafless tree branch. It hovered at the same height as the grass of the circle. It started to thicken and become more rectangular; then it elongated in several directions. Little flaps of wood unfolded with a clatter, until a wooden wardrobe stood before me.

Yes, I said
wardrobe
. The dark wood at the base was carved with flowers. From the top of the wardrobe, a sun with a carved face smiled down at me. I was still a bit spooked by the jack-in-the-box trick, so I was very careful when I stepped toward it. Who knew? A whole department store might pop out! Then again, the wardrobe might be filled with fur coats and mothballs, and the back might lead to
another
new world….

As it turned out, neither thing happened. I looked around on the ground for my woven bag, hoping my family talisman hadn't been squashed. I didn't see the bag, so I stood to one side and pulled open one of the wardrobe doors. An ordinary mirror was
attached to the inside, reflecting my tense body and cautious expression. Relaxing, I opened the second door. Another mirror. In the wardrobe was a long rod with clothes of every kind and color hanging on it. Below that, there were drawers filled with gloves, belts, hats, and dozens of other accessories. A flat area on top of the drawers displayed all sorts of shoes, boots, sandals, and slippers. And
everything
looked my size!

From outside, the fairy queen's voice said, “Take what you need now. This will be your only chance to prepare for your journey.”

How was I supposed to know what I needed? I finally decided that I should be practical. I chose a pair of brown leggings, a light-as-air pink cotton shirt that had billowy sleeves, and a cropped brown vest that reminded me of Guatemala, with flowers embroidered all over it. Then I pulled on a pair of purple boots that went up to my knees. They were made out of a material I'd never felt before—something between silk and leather.