334. Very Dark Eyes

334. Very Dark Eyes

We had our doubts before climbing up the kiddynapper’s tree. It was only natural, considering what we were hearing come floating down from up there. You see, the Grim Granny was singing to herself her own version of Dark Eyes. And she wasn’t doing it softly. She was shouting with more vigour than a choir of slavic soldiers.

“Eyes that pop out, when they see me, eyes that freeze square, how they fear me!

Eyes that freak out when they sight me, eyes that go blank when I bite thee!

I’m here to take away your happiness, and make it mine instead!

You’ll rue the day you met me!

La la lai la, la la lai la, you are as good as dead!”

“Is that her raving madly?” asked Uncle Richie. “Voice not bad, but lyrics yes.”

“I told you she was ******* ****** terrifying!” hissed Uncle Fi.

“And I always thought she was an invention of Mummy’s to spook us into behaving. You believed in her, Fi. And you were ******* right. Oh, sorry! Sorry for  the foul word. I don’t say them. You are contagious, Fi.”

“I don’t think I want to do this,” grumbled Fi frowning darkly. “I’m not climbing up there to confront her! I loved my mother too much not to be traumatized”

“Wow!” said Richie. “You’ve spoken three sentences without saying a foul word. You must be really scared. What about you, Gentie? Did you or did you not believe in Granny Grimface? Did you think she was real, or a ruse of Mummy’s?”

“I didn’t know what to think, so I decided to try to find her and see for myself. Not by provoking her into popping up and eating our parents. I wouldn’t ever do that. But I noticed the way our father would look away whenever Mummy mentioned her. He never said she wasn’t real. He just made himself scarce when about to be questioned on the subject. So I was curious.”

“Did you really think, Gentie, like Fufi did, that someone would be able to eat our parents? I mean, they are not precisely unpugnacious.”

“I almost died of a heart attack when I met Eulalie,” said Fi. “It took all the calm and the courage I could muster for me not to fly out of Fancy’s life the  very moment I realized who Eulalie was. I never would have courted Fancy if I’d known who her ****** foster gran was.”

“When we were little, I decided to learn all I could about her, because if she were real, she would have to be stopped. But I wasn’t able to learn much,” said Gentlerain. “Only that she wasn’t likely to be Mummy’s invention, because there were other much older people than us who had been tormented by the idea of her when they were kids. But now I know that she turned her husband and his mistress into peas and swallowed them and that is probably all she has eaten. Of people, I mean. Of course.”

“She ate her cheating husband?” asked Richie. “What are we doing here?”

“They were a childless couple all their married life. She wanted to order a kid, or even a dozen. But he refused to. He said either kids showed up naturally right in front of his eyes or he wouldn’t have any. Then, after centuries together, she discovered he had kids with another woman. And she turned him into a pea and swallowed him. And the other woman too. Like I said.”

“And they are still inside her?” asked Richie.

“No. She was forced to throw them up. But she was never normal again. Before she was made to release her peas, she had brought up their  kids. Everyone had been thinking how nice of her that was, to care for her missing and unfaithful husband’s children. And then the eating part of the story came to light. And everyone shied away from her, and she got into the habit of abducting abused kids and bringing them up in her eucalyptus home.”

“Before which we now stand. I know this song. It’s an intense love song,” said Richie. “Do you think I should join the singing?”

And, before he got an answer, he did just that. He began singing Ochi Chyornye in Russian because he was not scared at all any more. He had told himself he was used to domestic quarrels and had always come out of them the better for having had them. They had ended with his being abandoned by all his dreadful wives, of course.

“Who is that down there?” hollered Granny Grimface. “You sing good, cheeky *******, but are you mocking me?”

“No!” Uncle Rich assured her. “I just was moved into participating. I like your voice. Do you really like mine? Maybe we should get together and-"

And Uncle Fi nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. Brutally.

“Ow!” complained Uncle Rich.

“Mrs. Bloodstone, I’m Brightfire Goodfellow. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m a friend of Fancy Feverfew’s. She introduced me to you once,” said Fi.

And Granny Grimface came down her tree, and I will have a word about the tree before I go on. Though it looked at first like an Australian tree, it now morphed into what seemed to be a rainbow eucalyptus tree, for its bark became many coloured. I know this tree because of Beau’s visit to somewhere near Mindanao when he went to acquire the carrousel horse that made it possible for the Atshebies to have a safe name day party. Granny did not descend from it alone. She did this  surrounded by a swarm of little children who would not stay quiet but began to dance all around us, giving little leaps and bounds and making ugly faces and tee-heeing and cracking up more loudly when they saw we did not respond to provocation. And I must say they looked happy.

“Who ironed your shirt?” Granny Grimface asked Esmeraldo.

“Why?” he cautiously answered her question with another.

“It’s very well ironed.”

“Ah!” said Esmeraldo. Just that.

“Are these your kids?” she asked Brightfire.

But before he could answer, Azuline said, “We’re his nieces and his nephew. And he is a nice uncle and always treats us right.”

“Yes!” said Neferclari. And Esmeraldo nodded.

“Good!” said Granny Grimface. “He had better be!”

“Mrs. Bloodstone, I am Gentlerain Goodfellow,” said Uncle Gent, who always takes the initiative when he smells blood. “We’re trying to locate Umbrian Silvervine Parry, and we thought you might help us with this.”

“I remember you perfectly,” Eulalie said to Brightfire. “You are the incendiary. And I wish you had shown more interest in Fancy than Umbrian did. She went from bad to worst when you left her. And you, Gentlerain, or whatever your name is, I haven’t eaten Umbrian, if that is what you are implying.”

“Any information you could give us would be of use,” said Gentie.

And then the granny began to look like a really bad witch. She even grew a black hat, so malevolently did she cuss.

“You would have to ask that ******* lying ***** whose hair I *******pulled right off her nasty head when the Golden Girls had sewn it ******* back. I forget what her ****** name was. Make my Fancy cry! I couldn’t allow that, though it was over an *******, they broke her heart. But you can’t ask her, because she absconded with that ******* fool and is missing too. I should have ******* eaten those two pieces of ****! Blast their ******* black hearts!”

“Yes, we know you had a showdown with Malina Badlight. And we know she is missing too.”

“Did the Aureas tell you that?”

“I read about it somewhere.”

I, too, had read about the fight. It was described in  faithful and colourful detail in the index card from the first coffer. The Aureas had had to sew Malina’s hair back on a third time.

“So we were in the press, were we? Good. That will ******* teach people to stay away from me. And what about you, the cheeky singer? Who are you and why are you here?”

“He’s my beloved and perfect daddy,” said Azuline. “He couldn’t be a better model daddy. And I love him to the moon and back.”

“If you say so,” shrugged Granny Grimface. “Anybody else have a daddy here? Good or not?”

“No!” said the Blue Twins in unison.  

And Esmeraldo and Neferclari nodded to support her answer. Yes, mercifully Esmeraldo was prudent and kept his mouth shut.

333. Oldtime Boogeywoman

 333.  Oldtime Boogeywoman

Eulalie Bloodstone, better known in nurseries as Granny Grimface, was a boogeywoman who had haunted my uncles’  childhoods.

“But she is still active,” said Uncle Gentlerain, who had done some research in the archives of the Prudent Siblinghood of Preventers.

“You mean Old Grimface truly exists? I didn’t think she was for real. I thought we were being made fun of. We never really got to see this woman when we were little. Who would have thought we would get to see her ferocious mug now?” said Uncle Richearth.

“A ****** living nightmare,” muttered Uncle Brightfire.

“She’s not all bad. But it isn’t wise to want to have to do with her," said Gentlerain.

“Is she one of those kiddynappers they scare us with?” asked Neferclari, who had heard her nanny threaten her and her brothers and sisters with all sorts of sinister folks who sequestered children.

“Yes,” said Gentlerain. “But not the average kind. She only abducts kids who have been mistreated by their parents.”

“WHAT?” gasped the Bluebell Twins. “And to top it all she eats the poor abused mites?”

“No! It´s more like she eats their parents,” said Richearth. “She devours parents who batter their kids. I remember Mummy asking us with tears in her eyes if we wanted Grimface to chomp on her when we were being too naughty.”

“I couldn't get the image of that monster jumping at our mother's throat like a wolf out of my mind. I was so afraid one of us might make a mistake and this would happen. Would you like to have your ******** parents  *******eaten, malevolent, wayward kids?”  asked Uncle Brightfire.

“No! No! Nooooo!” cried  Esmeraldo and Azuline and Neferclari in unison. “No, please no!”

“Well, then you ******* mustn’t misbehave! Or your parents will lose it and batter you when you blast their nerves and next thing you know  you’ll be ******** destitute orphans.”

“Sometimes,” said Esmeraldo, thinking  twice, “when I am very angry, I just might wish- ”

“She can’t eat you, Daddy! You’re a good daddy! Good!” cried Azuline, clutching her father’s arm.

“Oh, for  the sky’s blue sake, no, honey!” cried Richearth, hugging Azuline. “That would be all I need. To be eaten at my age by a demented and outraged kiddynapper! How would I explain that to your grandfather? No, honeylamb, that can't happen. ”

“No! Kiddynapper, no! She doesn’t nap kids,” corrected  little Neferclari anxiously.

“Oh, she ******* does,” said Brightfire. “She takes the ******* kids off with her when she’s *******done gobbling up their unlucky, sorely tried parents.”

“And what does she do to the kids?”

“She ******* adopts them. Well, she’s dirt poor, she ******* is, so the ******** kids she naps lose all their **** privileges. Supposing they had any. They could be poor, starving  kids, and be better off with her. But you’re not. So it wouldn’t make sense for you to change your indulgent folks for her. Don’t get your folks angry enough to *******  smack you in a ******* temporary fit of raving madness if you want to keep your status.”

“We don’t rightly know what happens to the kids. But she doesn’t seem to want to be mean to them. Quite the contrary. So we´ll have to ask Fancy Feverfew about this,” said Gentie. “because this old lady seems to have raised Fancy. And Fancy was never to my knowledge eaten. Anyone know anything different?”

“Fancy was raised by Old Grimface? I didn’t know even that,” said Richie. And Fi nodded, and said he did.

“Now that I think of it, why are you guys ******* thinking of taking these kids to see a ******monster? They’re already wailing like a hysterical Greek chorus!” cried Brightfire suddenly. "That fiend is capable of tearing an arm off of each of us if something goes wrong."  He had refused to read out loud the controversial index card his brothers had come to him with, saying he employed sufficient profanity when speaking and there was no need to teach the kids further colourful language.

“It’s not like we planned it, Fufi,” said Richearth. “Things happen. And one thing leads to another. And we’re really here because we thought you might know something about Fancy that we didn’t. Didn’t you date her for a while? Got to know her family?”

“I broke up with her because I was *******scared of her ******gran. I’m not the kind to appeal to **** grans. But I can tell you right out that if that ******** whacko sees it the way I am seeing it, she might just ******* tear a bite off of the three of us in front of these kids! Awful beastly, that granny!”

“Nah!” said Uncle Gentlerain. “Let’s not exagerrate! I haven’t been able to find a record of her having eaten anyone in our archives. And I don’t think she could have erased all trace of her victims. She has taken charge of some abused kids, that fact is established. Don’t cry, children. All you have to do is behave and nothing  bad will happen to anyone.”

“You’re ******* frightening them!” cried Brightfire.

“Plus you are sounding like Pappy again, Gentie!” said Richearth. “I’m about to break into tears myself!”

“Bah!” said Gentlerain. “We are all good people, nothing will happen to us! Eulalie has nothing against us.”

“You’re hearing Uncle Gentlerain,” I, Heather, said, hugging the kids. “He knows a lot about difficult people. We will all be just fine. Nobody has done anything bad!”

“He’s frightened us! That is bad!” said Esmeraldo, pointing at his uncle Gentlerain.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gemmy,” said Gentlerain. “Nothing can frighten the likes of you!”

And Esmeraldo laughed, because that was rather true. And Arabella took hold of Azuline's left hand and Belinda took hold of the child's right hand and also of Neferclari's left hand and with Esmeraldo next to me we all went off to see Fancy Feverfew, to ask her about the woman who had raised her.

“I don’t want anything to do with her! It’s not because she was bad to me, quite the contrary. She saved me from a rotten life. She kept me warm and well clothed and shod and very well fed and talked to me as sweetly as no one ever had before, and never ever harmed me. But when I grew up and fell in love with Umbrian, well, she disapproved of him. And she said he would bring me nothing but trouble. And that he might batter our kids or me. She may have eaten him, now that I think of it! Oh, by Og! How awful!”

And there was no way we could get her to say more, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Umbrian’s having been eaten, so we all left her in her dolmen, certainly wringing her hands and sounding as if she were crunching on her nails, and went off to see on our own Old Granny Grimface, who lived at the top of the tallest tree in Minced Forest. A eucalyptus. Imported from Australia. 

 

332. The First Key: Moonwort in Moonlight

332. The First Key: Moonwort in Moonlight

Moonlight. The Richearth Plantation. The garden where Richearth creates new flowers. My uncles Richearth and Gentlerain, my oldest first cousins the Blue Twins,  two of my youngest first cousins, namely Azuline and Esmeraldo, my niece Neferclari and I, Heather, and, of course,  Beau, who is always in my mind no matter where he is physically. We are all standing in a circle, and within it, lying on the dark green under the lunar beams grass, the three silver coffers Nick of Time’s daughters allowed us to steal from them. And also, tiny but terribly powerful, a fern with a frond that has leaflets like crescent moons and a sprig loaded with bunches of round spore cases that some call grapes.

“I don’t know if this is going to work, because the moonwort I grow here I myself modified to better. Where in both worlds can we find old-fashioned moonwort if mine won’t serve?” asked Uncle Rich.

“I may have some in my garden,” I, Heather, said. “But it is never easy to find. It’s such a small fern.”

We were trying to open the coffers and we had been told the key that would open the first of these was moonwort, but  only under the light of a waning moon. Nothing else would do the job. Luckily, the Apple Island Moon goes through all its phases every Monday night. Several times. Dizzying, but tonight convenient. 

“Well, we won’t know if the new-fangled moonwort will work if we don’t try it,” said Gentlerain.

But before we could…

“What is the meaning of this?” cried Branna, rising from the shadows in a silver nightgown. “Why are you out here in the middle of the night, Richie, and with these children yet?”

“And with my brother Gentlerain!” nodded Richearth. “ Who is a prude of the first water, isn’t that so, Gentie? I am not with a ladyfriend. That is clear, isn’t it? What problem is there then?”

“Good…good evening, Gentlerain,” said Branna. “I…I didn’t mean… anything like what Richie is suggesting. I feared there might have been some kind of an … an accident. How is…Mabel?”

“Mabel is used to her husband getting up in the middle of the night and vanishing into the darkness until breakfast. And nobody ever accuses him of being a…a…well, whatever! At least not lately.”

“Mabel is fine,”said Gentlerain. “I often have business that can only be done late at night. That is what we have here now. I’m sorry if we´ve startled you.”

“Mabel is an astronomer and she is always awake at night. Spying on the stars and on me. Not that I mind. I’m flattered. But you ought to understand we have business out here, Mabel. For once. Not always, like you do. And don’t say you never leave the house but just climb onto the roof.”

“I…all I will say is, I don’t want to bother you, but why are you being so mysterious, if I may ask?”

“Now is when Gentie will tell you he is trying to help a woman who was an old friend of mine. Don’t let that upset you either! It’s impossible for there not to be any old ladyfriends of mine. I’ve been around for centuries.”

“Actually, we are trying to find Henny Parry’s long lost brother. He was the sweetheart of a woman who has been ailing since he disappeared. My daughters had something to do with all this, so I feel I should find Umbrian Parry,” said Gentlerain.

“Plus he is curious and wants to know where Umbrian hides so well. You don’t know these people because they are from centuries before you, Branna,” said Richearth.

“I know Henny Parry. Can I help?”

“You can let us get on with what we are doing before it gets to be dawn and the moon hides, love,” said Richearth.

“Get on with it, Daddyman!” encouraged the Blue Twins. They were a little impatient, because they were not too happy to have to be always present in case they were needed while their father tried to find Umbrian.

“I don’t see any keyhole or escutcheon or keyway or anything  on these boxes. They seem to be made in one solid block. I hope just touching this first one with a sprig of moonwort will do the job. I’ll dig it up whole, roots and all. I don’t want to harm it,” said Gentlerain.

“Nothing will happen to it. I’m here. I can raise the dead. I’ll see to the plant.”

Gentlerain knelt on the grass and very softly began to loosen the fern from the earth. When he had, he asked, “Shall I touch the box with the tip of this or with the roots?”

“Pass the roots over where the keyhole should have been,” said Richearth, “but make sure the moon is shining on that.”

Gentie touched the first box and it snapped open, just like any coffer might when opened with a more common key.

“And what have we here?” asked the Bluebell Twins, kneeling to take a peek within the box.

“An index card, I think. Richie, plant this plant back, will you?”

Uncle Rich did just that, not even taking the plant from his brother’s hands with his own. He simply made the little fern float back to its place. And there it stayed, looking as settled as if it had never left it.

“But what does the card say?” asked the twins.

“Thank you for stealing the coffers, Esmeraldo,” said Uncle Gentlerain.

“WHAT?” exclaimed the Bluebell twins.

“No, it doesn’t say that,” laughed Uncle Gentlerain, “I just remembered I hadn’t thanked Esmeraldo for lifting these boxes.”

“Anytime, good sir,” said Esmeraldo.

“I thought it was you,” said Richearth to his brother.

“Your boy got ahead of me.”

“There was no time left to hesitate,” said Gemmy.

“Indeed there wasn’t,” nodded Gentlerain.

“Well, don’t waste more time now,” said the twins. “Read that card! Out loud, Daddyman!”

Gentlerain drew out the card and gave it a glance.

“The only person I know and like who could read this card out loud is your Uncle Brightfire,” said Gentlerain to his daughters.

“WHAT?”exclaimed the twins.

And Richearth tore the card from his brother’s hand. 

“Oh! Oh, wow! Yes. Only Fufi could.”

331. Nick of Time and his Daughters

331. Nick of Time and his Daughters

Somewhere in an Apple Island neighborhood. A street that is always misty with a low mist that doesn’t much reach above most of the trees. Now a garden that is no more than a vast expanse of unkempt, dandelioned lawn,  a square pink building with four floors, the fourth being like a flat rooftop terrace, partly covered with glass that was a blinding golden in the sunlight and went a solid black at night. There were  many windows on the other three floors, all of them with their blinds down. But on the ground floor there was also a double door that never looked shut if you took a second look at it. There was a very small purple metal sign on the door with fine print in light blue that said, “If you want to come in, do it without knocking.”  And once you had stepped in, another small sign, this time lavender coloured with deep pink letters, said, “We’re probably upstairs. Do some climbing.”

And now, up close, the sound of sweet and low singing. Whispered singing.

“Spin, spin gold spin, as the earth spins, round the sun spins, as the hands of clocks spin, spin, spin, sisters, spin! All we need is sunlight, all we need is a beam, all we need is a ray, to spin spin golden gold.  Sisters, spin away!”

Nicholas Philomel, impressively older than the hills or anything much older and with the longest and fluffiest white braided hair and braided beard to be seen in Fairyland and the yellow eyes of an observant cat, is said to have woven the web of time. Once he had done that, there was no having any more time than that he had produced. Some say this is AEternus’ fault, for he put a stop to the time weaving. Others say this is just that Nick of Time ran out of whatever material he had spun time with. In any case, Nick no longer weaves time, and he can’t give anyone more of it. But he now runs a workshop that can give you lots of other covetable  things. If you know how to ask for them.

In this workshop, which is on the peculiar rooftop of the building, - the rest is Nick’s home - labour seven girls, known collectively as the Goldspinners or the Aureas. Nick calls them his daughters for he himself spun them out of gold. They are pretty to look at and sing very nicely and most catchily too while they are at work. These girls spin the gold coins that can always be found in the coatpockets of fairies who wear the special coats Apple Island deals out to its inhabitants. The girls also spin other things, like jewelry, magical or not, of course, but also solid gold cups of joy, tableware for the haughtiest tables, clothes that make you vulnerable to thieves and even body parts and especially hair of solid gold for people who desperately want to be desired for the wrong reasons.

The spinners don’t spin like most people do. They get into some wheels that depend on their hips to spin like hula hoops. Sometimes, they themselves spin like dervishes. When they begin to spin like tops, to watch them is to loose your balance yourself. They go faster and faster and soon things begin to fall to the ground, out of nowhere. But they only spin from ten in the morning  to four in the afternoon because that is the light they need to do their job. And aside from their agreement to spin gold for Titania’s Apple Island project, they only take orders for specific things and never make a lot of stuff to later sell.    

 It turned out Nick had nothing to say about Umbrian’s disappearance because AEternus had confiscated the Web of Time ages ago and hidden it away somewhere unreachable. So Nick couldn’t consult it to see what had happened to Ambivolo’s son. And so Ambivolo did some ranting against AEternus for hiding the web and not being transparent and Esmeraldo  again kicked him in the shin, this time the left one,  for maligning his grandfather.

“Ow!” said Ambivolo, and after that he asked, “Whose kid is this?”

“Mine,” said Richearth. “I am sorry he has caused you pain, but I don’t really know if I should apologize for him or not. AEternus is my father, and you have called down all sorts of curses on his descendants. That’s me and these kids here. And Gentie. Are you upset, Gentie? Need we be offended?”

“Esmeraldo, darling,” I, Heather, said, “one must answer words with words. Not kicks.”

“You mean I should have cussed this donkey back instead of kicking him like a mule?” asked Esmeraldo.

“Not exactly, I am sure,” said Gentlerain, answering my cousin before I could. I think that also served like an answer to his brother’s question.

“Well, you probably don’t mind hearing your father maligned because you don’t like him, but my Grandpa is my Grandpa, good or bad, and I have to defend what’s mine.”

“What? I have never said I don’t like AEternus. I don’t like the way he does certain things. That is all. And don’t sass me, boy. I’ve had my share of quarrels with obnoxious kids and I always win. Exercise caution. You’ve been forewarned,”said Gentlerain.

“You don’t like children because you haven’t any. And you haven’t any because they don’t like you,” said Esmeraldo.

“I do have children. Two daughters standing right there next to you.”

“Well, go sass them for their having started this mess you are trying to right and leave me be.”

“WHAT?” cried the Bluebell Twins in unison.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Uncle Richearth. “Will I have to do something about this?”

“No, no!” said Ambivolo. “You are getting me wrong! I like this brave boy. He is spunky and defends his family. I admire that. He has the cheek to call me a donkey! Those are traits I value. I was asking whose he was because I would have offered to keep him for myself should he have been available.”

“My wife would kill me if I were to give Esmeraldo away,” sighed Uncle Richearth. “Actually, it’s not the first time I’ve done something like that, because I had this one kid, Feeseepkee, who I had to give away because -”

“WHAT?” cried Esmeraldo.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Richearth.

But before Richie could say more, Gentlerain intervened. “You see, pleasant child? As my father, who is your grandfather, would say, you said I didn’t like my father and now you are having trouble with yours. That’s the way things work in this island. And it serves you right.”

“Yes, Papá would say that,” nodded Uncle Richearth. “It would be exactly like your grandpa to say that, Esmeraldo. Gentie is getting to be more and more frighteningly like him every day. Scary.”

“Bah!” said Gentie.

We were so into our own things that one of the seven Goldspinners had to leave her spinning wheel and say something so we would get back on track and discuss the business we had come to discuss.   

“All I can tell you about Malina Badlight is that I myself spun solid gold hair for her and implanted it on her scalp, and that she was back in no time screaming she wanted it off her head. She admitted it had the advantage that she didn’t have to dye her hair every forthnight, but it was dangerous to have in the places she frequented and attracted unwanted admirers. So I pulled it off her head, roots and all, hair by hair, not strand by strand, because I didn’t want to break any of it by accident. And that hurts, so while I was at it, she yelled and cussed something awful.”

“Awful awful!” chorused the other six Goldspinners softly, spinning more and more softly too until they stopped.

“As if we hadn’t warned her this would happen,” said the girl who had spun Malina’s hair. “So I turned the hair into a wig so she could wear it when she chose to and not  all the tine and everywhere. You can’t go everywhere with solid gold hair without someone wanting to tear it off you. To steal it or because they are envious.”

“We had warned her and warned her!” said the other spinners. “Three times seven times. That’s twenty one, in case you can’t multiply.”

“I even sewed all her original hair back on to her head. And did that for free, though she couldn’t sue us, because we had warned her what would happen.”

“Warned her, warned her! Three times seven times! That is twenty-one. It ought to be enough,” chorused the rest of the spinners nodding vehemently.

“We know very well what it is to be wanted for the wrong reasons,” the first of the spinners went on. “So we keep to ourselves and do almost nothing but work and when we do go out, we are careful who we show ourselves to, and it is a one time thing. The moment first astonishment is over at the sight of us, we rush back home. Before someone chops us in pieces and sells these.”

“That doesn’t happen on this island,” said Gentlerain.

“Of course not. Only among mortals. It’s a risk we took whenever we left it. So we don’t any more. We were new then. We are older and wiser now. We have our fun at the local fairy rings.”

“What else do you know about Malina?” asked Gentlerain.

“What we know about our clients we keep in silver boxes. We don’t spin silver, and that metal isn’t kind to us, so we never even touch these boxes aside from when we open them to put the information in and snap them shut after.”

And she pointed at an enormous shelf there was against the whole of one of the walls in the workshop. On each of the many stands there were small silver coffers with numbers on them.

“Numbers 13513, 13514 and 13515 are about clients that could give you information that will help you. Unfortunately, we have to be discreet and can’t just  give you these boxes. But we can turn our backs on you while you steal them.”

“Steal them?” asked Uncle Richie. “But we aren’t thieves!”

“One of you will have to be if you want the information. Now we and our father will turn our backs on you and you do as you please.”

It didn’t happen at first try, but the girls said they would give us three chances. After the third try the three coffers in question had gone missing.

“Good,” said the Aureas in unison. “Well, that’s all we can do for you unless you want something else.”

330. Questioning Fancy

330. Questioning Fancy

Going about helping Fancy Feverfew got to be complicated. Nobody wanted to involve Henbeddestyr Parry in a search for his missing brother. Nobody really knew why they didn’t want this, but they just didn’t. He is such a nice person no one wants to associate him in any way with trouble, though being an apothecary he sees more than his share of unpleasantness. However, it was only right to warn Henny that the search was on. So he was warned.

“Try to find Umbrian if you please,” said Henny. “He’s not that terrible to have around. But I have no idea how to help you. When he first disappeared, I did try to find him. But nobody knew anything. No clues, no leads, no trace, no info of any kind, useful or not.”

Once Gentlerain and Richearth had Henny’s approval, we all concluded the next step was to speak with Fancy herself. There was the question of who would do that. Gentlerain couldn’t go alone, and much less so Richearth. There might be gossips to worry about. They could go together and they would. But there were others who wished to come too. Little Neferclari had spoken with her young aunt Azuline and her uncle Esmeraldo. And these two were interested in helping Fancy because they had said they would even before anyone else had thought of doing this. The Bluebell Twins were asked to come too, because they might be needed. After all, they had done their part in the Umbrian and Fancy entanglement. 

On the whole, there were like fifty people who had reasons to want to interfere in this business, including Ambivolo Parry, who was obsessed with the idea that his son Umbrian might be a victim of foul play. Being a very prepotent person, he insisted on consulting the Memorion, who, as everyone knows, can’t be consulted at all about anything though he knows everything, because it would kill the already overworked man to be at everyone's beck and call like a public oracle. Belvedere could only say it was Fancy who would in a rambling way give us a lead to follow, and that we should be attentive to her every word so this information wouldn’t escape us. And that was a lot of saying for someone who isn’t allowed to be an oracle.    

So it was looking like a mob was about to storm the dolmen when we all got to the hill where Fancy kept herself. Not wanting to frighten Fancy, all save Richie and Gentie remained at a prudent distance, but not so prudent that we couldn’t hear the conversation that was to take place.

Richie and Gentie sat down crosslegged on the ground before the opening of the dolmen because they felt this would take a while and Richearth called out to Fancy, “Fancy, hi! This is Richie. Do you remember how we sang a duet during our Crowned Heads concert? It was our coming of age year.”

And after some small talk meant to get Fancy to trust them, and once Gentie and Richie had revealed their intentions to help her return to a normal life, Fancy said, “I would love to help you help me. I’m really touched you want to. But I can’t help good people. I am under a curse that doesn’t let me. But yes, I will tell you all I know, and all I suspect, though this curse I am under might make my efforts backfire. Well, here goes.”

She rambled on, just as the Memorion had said she would, and among the many things she said was that Umbrian had had a girlfriend before he fell in love with her and might have returned to this girl. Unfortunately, that person had disappeared too. But that only made Fancy feel this person and Umbrian had probably run off together, though she couldn’t see why they would have to hide. Umbrian had broken with her and was free to return to this other girl if he chose.

“That must be it,” said Gentie, “what my father-in-law said Fancy would say. Nothing else she has said leads anywhere.”

“I have always been very afraid of this person,” said Fancy.

“I take it this person has a name?” asked Gentie.

Fancy was scared to pronounce it, so she wrote it on a piece of paper and stuck her arm out the opening to the dolmen and Richie took that bit of paper and glanced at it and said, “Oh, heck!” and handed it to Gentie.

“He always liked conflictive women,” said Uncle Rich. “I got involved with such ladies, because I used to get involved with anyone available, but I am not sure I ever really liked them as much as he did. The meaner they were, the more he admired them. Look no further. This is the one who laid the curse.”

And Ambivolo Parry started shouting what he would do once we had tracked down Malina Badlight. And Esmeraldo, annoyed by the uproar, gave the grand old man a kick in the shin.

 “What?” said Ambivolo, stunned by this attack. “What is the meaning of this?”

“It means I want to be a do-gooder. And I am doing you good. You will bust a vein if you continue acting up.”

“Weeeeell,” said Ambivolo slowly, “you maaaaaay have something there, little boy.” And he made no more of the kick, but turned to Gentie and said, “If nobody knows where that vixen is, and your father-in-law is being such a legalist, we will have to consult Nick of Time.”

329. Pulvis Amoris

329. Pulvis Amoris

“What kind of people would send a vulture to fetch a baby instead of a stork?” asked Remigia Glassywave, both indignant and aghast.  

I, Heather, could have said vultures have babies too. Of their own. But that would have been very know-it-all of me and might have defeated our purpose, which was to get Mr. Binky installed at Glassy Bay.

“Moony stays!” decided Remy. “We’ll defend him with our tridents if necessary!”

“Aye, aye!” said Barge Billy. That is what they call Mr. Glassywave. I have always thought of barges as river things. Things that cross smaller than the sea bodies of water. I couldn’t help thinking he should have been called something else. Billy Boat, perhaps. He looked a little like a goat, not a boat, like some kind of a bovid, but I suppose that is what made me think of this alternative name. His hair was sun yellow and there was a lot of it. Like the golden fleece. His wife’s was black and  Indian straight, or would have been, if she hadn’t worn it in two braids she had just undone. That made it wavy-looking.  But you knew it wasn’t naturally so.

As for where we were at, well, the Glassywaves had like two huts and a large shed on a promontory. Up there you could stare at the beautiful beach below in easy fascination and never look away until someone made you do that. I watched my Uncle Gentlerain’s face as he sized up the place. And I think he was thinking, "What can my father have been thinking of sending us here? Mungo could destroy this site of innocence." Because it wasn’t at all the Memorion's idea that we should go there, but something that had to do with AEternus’ memory.

“We’re not as lazy as people like to think we are. We’ve three spaces here, and two are workshops,” said Remy, carefully pushing  the door to a grass hut so it wouldn’t fall to the ground. I can’t tell what held it in place. Magic, I suppose. Not hinges. Unless they were invisible. Not even so, I think.

Inside the hut, aside from a lot of sand, was a table , three chairs, a spinning wheel, two large chests, a pile of driftwood and not much else. Ah, yes! Looking almost unpresent in the dark depths of the place was a shelf that couldn’t possibly be better mounted on the wall than the entrance door was. It was loaded with empty glass bottles of many kinds and colours, one stand being all coke bottles. On the table were strings and cords and ribbons and heaps of  shells and smooth round pebbles and sea glass particles. And glue and scissors and needles and such.

“I do jewelry,” said Mrs. Glassywave, and she showed us samples of it, which were rather pretty.    

Mr. Glassywave produces surfboards and boomerangs in the shed, that is also used to house a boat and other such stuff. And between them both the Glassywaves craft dreamcatchers, wind chimes and other kinds of hanging mobiles, some musical without the aid of a breeze.

“I’ll be making a couple of cribs,” said Billy. “We’ve an emergency. Those kids can’t just be kept forever in baskets of bulrushes.”

“Make a playpen  too,” said Remy. “A roofed  one, like a cage. In case they discover they can fly before we are psychologically ready to chase them.”

 And Billy went outside  and started working on that right then, leaving us with his wife. The only other thing we heard him say was goodbye when we left.

Before that, I accompanied Remy and Penny into the home hut to help them settle the babies in. And through Beau’s mind, always in contact with mine, I learned what went on outside between my uncles.

“What happens if Binky suddenly begins to age in a rush and is like forty before midnight and rises from the crib doing a Frankenstein act?” Uncle Rich whispered to Uncle Gentlerain.

“Belvedere would have warned us. That is not going to happen,” murmurred Uncle Gent.

“You are such a nice person, Gentie,” sighed Uncle Rich. “You’ve come all the way here to help a bloke who made your life hell. I am proud of you.”

“I am not good at all,” said Uncle Gent. “Every time I passed by Heather’s garden and repaired on Mungo resting there in his box I  wished he were truly a mummy. I felt like engraving an epitaph on the glass. Eius somnia multorum somnia dira erant. Or Somnia eius erant somnia turbarum multorum. Or something like that.”

“Ah, his dreams were the nightmares of many! Fitting, fitting indeed. But... desiderium et actio res diversae sunt.  And that is why you are such a nice person. How about if we buy some sea glass stuff for our wives? It would be nice of us, wouldn’t it?”

“And daughters,” said Uncle Gent. “And for my mother-in-law. You have made me think I should have a word with her.”

“Because of what I said about Fancy and Umbrian getting  together being unnatural. Isn’t that so? I never meant your girls might have to do with it. Maybe I should have bitten my tongue. If I didn’t, it was because I never imagined they could be involved.”

“I really hope Cybela  had nothing to do with this union. But I also hope she has a notion why Fancy and Umbrian became an odd couple.”

And then the blue matchmaker princesses appeared, delicately matching the sea behind and the sky above them.  

“Daddyman, it was our first try,” said Belle and Bella in unison to Uncle Gentie. “Before that, we only matched owls and pussycats in pea green boats and such. We’re here because Grandma said to come and tell you two things. First, what we just have. And then not to buy her anything from here. She only wears diamonds. But we wouldn’t mind having some sea glass and silver bracelets ourselves. Thank you.”

“You have just admitted to having hexed Umbrian and Fancy? Retract! Or they could sue you!” hissed Uncle Rich, very worried because of his part in this revelation.

“Nah. Hexing is by witches. We just gave them a teensy push. Put them in the right place at the right time,” said Belle.

“And blew a little pulvIs amoris in their direction,” said Bella. “To enhance things a bit. We don’t use arrows either. No making hearts bleed. Not even a scratch. That’s our policy.”

“You can’t use love dust  unless both the parties involved  ask you to.”

“We know that now,” said Bella.

“But we didn’t then,” said Belle. “In any case, they had a good time. Sweet memories that will linger with them forever. Not everyone has as tender an affair as they had. That will never change just because it came to a sorry end.”

“Your grandma told you to do that? Or was it strictly your own idea, girls?” said Uncle Gent.

“No, Gentie! Don’t you go sticking your own foot in this mess now. They didn’t do anything. They aren’t admitting to this. You hush you mouths, girlies,” said Uncle Rich. “Like I should have mine. Nobody has to know about this. It happened like three centuries ago and you were probably minors. You know what a secret is? Well, this is one. Keep it!”

“We were over seven.”

“But it was your first century. People can be considered unimpeachably stupid until they are at least their first hundred years old. You needn’t answer for this.”

“I will. I'll be as discreet as possible and  won’t say a thing or raise a row, but now I feel I am going to have to help Fancy. And maybe even find the tantrum thrower. Where can he possibly have hidden himself?” sighed Uncle Gentlerain.

“Admit you want to find him because you are curious,” said Uncle Rich. “You want to learn how to hide as well as he has.”

“I want to find him because I have a conscience that has never allowed me to live in peace.”

“No!” said Richie. “You just can never leave things be.”

328. Two Worlds Vision Salve

328. Two Worlds Vision Salve

A week after having taken Mr. Binky to the Temple of Mayet, we all united again to accompany Pentafloris and her twins back to her seaside home. The Memorion himself offered to take us there in his ship, probably to make the occasion more solemn. Thus, if anyone got to know about this voyage, they would also know it had the blessing of AEternus’ memory.

It proved quite a pleasant and relaxing experience. The ocean blue bluer than it had ever been, the sky a lighter hue of blue too, baby blue, to match our mission. The regal ship, in contrast to its majestic look from afar, making us sneeze when below deck because of all the pepper Belvedere had scattered about to keep bugs away from the tons of books and archives that filled it to overflowing. Pepper had something to do with avoiding rust or mould too, from the humidity or something.   

“Sorry about that,” said the Memorion, “My suppliers had run out of peppercorns so I used pepper powder as a substitute. Probably a mistake. Most likely. I hope I remember not to do this again. Can I offer you all a drink?”

Despite his hopes, he seems to have been forgetting for centuries.

As we lazed on the deck lying on deck chairs and sipping piña coladas and being fanned by palm leaves and paypays moving on their own, we began to make small talk that I, Heather, think got larger than expected.  

“Poor Sunny,” sighed little Neferclari.

“But why do you say that?” I asked her.

“Because now he has got an evil twin.”

“No! Mr. Binky isn’t exactly evil. Only overbearing. And he isn’t a real twin.”  

“We’ve broken rules, haven’t we?” asked Neferclari. “Is that right?”

“We don’t exactly have rules, dear. We have conventions. Traditions, ideas about what is ethical and what is not. We may have been a little unconventional. But in what do you feel we’ve transgressed?” asked Uncle Gentlerain.

“Whoever is first to touch a baby has to keep it. Unless someone has seen it first and shouted a claim. Heather took the baby from the box. Shouldn’t she have to keep it?”

“It’s not exactly a baby,” I responded quickly. “It’s Mr. Binky suffering from a most unfortunate intoxication. I put him in that box, so I suppose it was right for me to be the one to draw him out. That doesn’t mean I have to keep him, does it?”

“He’s in his second childhood,” said Uncle Rich. “Are there rules about second childhoods and who gets stuck with the twiceborn kids?”

“Heather has kept him for like fifteen years. I think you’ve  more than done your bit, Heathie,” said Uncle Gentlerain. “We’ve all done what is best. It’s someone else I am worried about now.”   

“Fancy Feverfew. Am I right to think so?” Uncle Rich asked his brother.

“You are too, aren’t you? Don’t tell me she’s been in that cave since her late teens!”

“I am five years younger than you are and she is my age. So she must have entered that hole when she was nineteen. The year you disappeared.”

“I had nothing to do with that,” said Uncle Gentlerain. 

“Don’t be on the defensive. Of course you didn’t. It was…well, those were the disappearing years. A number of people chose to remove themselves from sight or just happened to. There was a scare about that. Most of those who had vanished reappeared in seven years. Some in seven hours. He disappeared too. But still for good.”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Beau.

Uncles Gentlerain and Richearth exchanged a look.

“Henbeddestyr’s half brother,” said Uncle Rich softly, as if he didn’t want to be overheard.

“Henny is a piece of cake,” said Uncle Gentlerain, “but his family is…sophisticated by comparison.”

“Don’t try to put it mildly. They are a bunch of self-important hysterics with egos that don’t fit in their heads and bump into everything when they move,” said Uncle Rich.

“Henny’s father is Ambivolo Parry. He lives in Italy and has children with a number of ladies. Not all at a time. Consecutively. One after the other,” said Uncle Gentlerain.

“But it’s not him that has disappeared, is it?” said Beau.

“Umbrian Silvervine is the person who did the disappering act. He is not safe to discuss,” said Uncle Gentlerain, “because he has this flaring temper. But since he has disappeared so definitely, it’s not likely he will storm in on us and bombard us with snakes and toads, for criticizing him, is it?”

“Disappeared or been made to,” whispered Uncle Rich. “The case is Umbrian was even more ambivalent than Ambivolo. He was like two people instead of one. A perfect gentleman one minute. And an enraged fiend the next.”

“It was not exactly that he was two different people. I think it was an irrational succesion of opinions that he had. I mean, he was okay with you and then, suddenly, you did something that he felt was an outrage. Usually, you had no idea what it was. And whereas up to that minute you had been a jolly good fellow in his opinion, you were suddenly an odious, undeserving lout. And from that moment on, one never knew where one stood with him.”

“A very difficult person to be around,” nodded Uncle Rich, “with a terrible temper. And then…what do you know? He laid eyes on Fancy Feverfew, the perfect example of a vocational do-gooder fairy.”

“It was the other way around, I think,” said Uncle Gentlerain. “She laid eyes on him and was enchanted.”

“Bewitched,” said Uncle Rich. “Though I will admit he was thought to be rather interesting to look at, I can’t help wondering  who hexed them. That relationship…it can’t have been natural. Opposites may attract, but no. There is no way this could have happened naturally.”

“He did feel flattered and responded well at first to her attentions,” said Uncle Gentie.   

“Too well,” said Uncle Rich. “I tell you, he was bewitched. He should have let her be. Someone as volatile as he was has no business toying with true love. That is supposed to be eternal.”

“Fancy was all sweetness and light,” explained Uncle Gent. “Curiously, she wasn’t easy to be around either, but for exactly the opposite reasons that it was difficult to be around Umbrian.”

“Cloying,” nodded Uncle Rich. “Too good to be good company. And nobody deserved her. In every sense of these words, good or bad.”

 “One has to admit Umbrian tried to please. Being liked by someone with such a great reputation for goodness sort of impressed him. To humor her, he tried his hand at doing good too. He did a couple of mortals a favor or two  when he went about with her and that made him feel good, I suppose. Good like he had never felt before. She was real pleased with him.”

“But?” asked Beau.

“It’s not easy for people to change.While the objects of his do-gooding were grateful and blessed him, and that made Fancy happy, well, well it went,” said Uncle Gent. “You know what went wrong better than I do, Richie. Do tell.”

“I don’t know the whole of it, but it sort of had to do with this mortal ignorant peasant woman who had a little child that was going blind. Umbrian and Fancy were celebrating their youth in a field rife with feverfew when that woman showed up. She wanted to gather some of those flowers to boil in water she meant to wash her kid’s eyes with. Now, Umbrian wasn’t the least bit interested in healing people, but he was Henny’s brother, so to please Fancy he took like two minutes of his precious time to procure from Hens’ apotheca a balm or an ointment or such that would restore the child’s eyesight. Unfortunately, being impatient and not wishing to wait till his brother was done with a client, he lifted the first thing he found that might do for his purpose and it turned out to not do only that. Umbrian made himself visible to the woman and gave her the eye salve he had made off with and told her she only had to apply it once on the child’s eyelids and that would cure the kid. She was to throw the remaining salve into a stream near her hut. Now, while Fancy was showing Umbrian how pleased she was with him for being so kind, the peasant woman went home. Before rubbing the salve on the child’s eyelids, she decided to try it on one of  her own, to be sure it was at least harmless. When she saw it had done her no apparent harm, she used it on the child and it worked its magic immediately. But like I said before, the salve didn’t just cure the child. A day later, this woman went to market to sell some beets and carrots and other nutrient-dense root vegetables she had taken the trouble to grow herself. So she spread a cloth on the ground and sat there in front of her basket of veggies and what did she see? She saw Umbrian barefacedly lifting all sorts of fruits and placing them carefully in a large basket of his own. Now Umbrian was only trying to be nice again, and he was preparing the basket for another charity case of his girlfriend’s. And he already had slipped some coins into the vendor’s purse, coins worth much more than the fruit he was taking, but the peasant woman hadn’t seen him pay. So, proving she was an ignorant fool, up she went and yelled ‘Stop, thief!´ at her benefactor.`What thief?’ asked the fruitseller, who couldn’t see Umbrian at all, because Umbrian was invisible to mortal eyes at that moment, but the salve the woman had rubbed on her eyes made her see what other mortals couldn’t,  because it was fairy medicine, made only  for fairy eyes, that Umbrian had unthinkingly given her. Two Worlds Vision Salve we call it. And Umbrian being as touchy as he was, flared up at being called a thief by an ungrateful person he had actually been kind to only the day before. So, without even blinking, he struck the woman utterly blind, thus proving that it is not safe for fairies and mortals to deal with each other, as our wise old folks say. And I imagine that Fancy was displeased with him for this and he with her for maybe rebuking him and not taking his side in his quarrel with the peasant woman with unwavering loyalty. And neither did Henny, who told his brother off for giving Two Worlds Vision Salve to a mortal without consulting him or anyone cunning first and I don’t know exactly what happened next, but Umbrian vanished from fay as well as mortal sight. And Fancy went into decay and began to say she’d been cursed and could no longer help anyone good, only bad people. And so I will end by saying again I don’t understand what Fancy and Umbrian saw in each other in the first place and how I suspect they were bewitched and there may be more to all this story than meets the naive eye.”