47. Res Nullius or Public Domain

In very little time we were out of the cage indeed, for I read those books on escapism as quickly and attentively as I could, and the information they gave me made us and the little winged book free.

Of course, we didn’t want to be trapped a second time by the burly Curmudgeon Finn, over zealous guardian of written treasures, so Alpin and I, in the company of Mildew and Michael’s winged copy of Bulfinch’s Mythology,  sneaked very stealthily out of the library.

 When we reached the garden we saw it was by then full of people, all crowding around a platform on which stood the fairy whose look was somewhere between that of a serpent and a chicken. She had a red crest on her yellow, feathery haired head and wore a very small golden crown. She was clad in a red tunic and what we could see of her arms and legs showed even more scales than a dragon or serpent has. So did a very long tail that trailed from beneath her robe. Above her was a sign that read Caveat Emptor. This means Beware of the Seller.

“I wrote that,” frowned Mildew. “She asked me to write something fancy in Latin for an auction she wanted to hold.”

We shrunk to our very smallest size possible and hid like bugs in thick bushes. In indignant whispers, Mildew explained to us what was going on.  

“This dreadful woman is named Basiliska. She is also a guardian of treasures and she says she is my brother’s fiancée. It is true she has entranced him, but I know she doesn’t care for him at all. As soon as she finds someone  she likes better she will break his heart.

“Basiliska has had the brilliant idea of auctioning the verbal tenses. She says they are a res nullius, which is Latin for something that doesn’t belong to anybody and is there for the taking. She says she has claimed them for herself and can now sell them to the highest bidder. She says they are worth buying because from now on, every time anyone writes or speaks using a verbal tense, the said anyone will have to pay royalties to the owner of the tense used.

“But the tenses are not a res nullius at all. What they are is in the public domain. That means they belong to absolutely everybody and anyone can use them. She was always saying she would do this, but I thought she would never dare to. But she has! And she has had the nerve to do it here, in a public sanctuary of the written word.”

Mildew paused to shake her head and sniff. Then she continued with her tirade. It went on until Alpin interrupted her.

“How much money can you lend me, Arley?” asked Alpin. “It might be a good idea to buy a verbal tense. Which is the best to make money with?”

“Possibly the past tense,” I said. “But there is no way we are going to participate in such infamy. This isn’t our personal problem.This goes far beyond us.This goes against the best interests of everyone. I’m going to call my parents. They might be able to put a stop to this.”

“Good boy,” said Mildew, and she patted me on the head.

While I tried very hard to concentrate and reach my mum and dad through mental telepathy, Mildew and Alpin witnessed the proceedings, she with a view to giving faith in court, he considering what he owned that he could bid with.

Many of Fairyland’s shady people were present. Basiliska must have made a list and invited them all. Also present were innocent bystander fairies who lived in the library’s garden.  

Goblin George, the goblin Fiona had struck on the nose with my shoe, made the first bid even before Basiliska had announced which tense they were bidding for.

                        

“Get on with this!” cried George. “Our time is gold. I bid fifty!”

“Fifty what?” asked Magpie of Mauve Moor, slinking up to George’s side.

“Pounds sterling!”

“Mortal money!” murmurred the crowd. There were some present that sounded truly shocked.

“I bid sixty. But what exactly are we bidding for?” asked Magpie.

“For the present tense,” clucked Basiliska. “I’ll start with that. Sixty, I have sixty. Seventy, anybody? Seventy?”

“I bid two bins of Colombian emeralds!” sang a voice melodious as a siren’s.

                            

The crowd began to move aside and to our surprise, Finbar’s wife,  the merrow Lira Anadyomene, emerged from the sea of fairies as the best bidder. And there was no outbidding her. She always bettered by far anyone else’s bids.

Everytime Lira bid, the crowd cheered. I wasn’t sure if they were supporting her or laughing at her, or if they simply disliked the other bidders.

Frustrated by Lira’s outrageous bids, George and Magpie began to insult the merrow.They said that because her daddy was the monarch of the seas and possessor of all its treasures she thought she could ruin everybody else’s chances of making a little money.They said she was nothing but a pirate’s daughter, who got to keep whatever her old man thought fit to steal.They said all this much more rudely than I have repeated it here, of course. The only publishable thing they called her was a monopolist. And it was beginning to look as if soon there would be more than words.