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.”