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A piece my brother commissioned for me of my girls, Ella (left) and Meline (right). Thank you so much, @puzzled-artist, this is so beautiful I may have cried a little when I saw it, I've admired your work for a while and am DELIGHTED this exists!
Behind the house, beyond the yard, on the far side of the pasture, in a home beneath a wild rose, lived Meline.
Meline was an earth fairy. She collected plants and minerals for potions. She would heal the mice, the goldfinches… even a spider.
She had a mantle of deep-black, so she could disappear. She had a willow staff, with an emerald-drop at its tip. She had a bag of medicine. It was full of crystal bottles and bags of powder and bandages, and a glass knife and scissors. And of course, she had the magic of the fey.
Wind and Shadow, Part Three
Author’s note: Hello, fans and critics! Just a couple of things I should mention before I leave you to this next chapter. First, this chapter is dedicated to my friend, fellow Buddhist, and beta reader, Walter, on whom Valdr is based; you always had a thing for elves, my friend.
Second, I’m moving in two weeks! I don’t think this will cause any disruption to my posting schedule, but I thought I should let you all know. On the off-chance I don’t have the next chapter up on Monday, come hell or high water, I’ll have it up on Tuesday. Take care, and enjoy!
The remaining flight passed uneventfully. Though the space beneath Nebulosa’s plumage was warm, Meline felt the air cool and thin. Selva fell quiet, though if either Ella or Meline spoke, she replied. When Meline touched her cheek or her hand, they were still warm.
“Silvercloud is right ahead,” Nebulosa eventually called. Despite herself, Meline stood. The world below was silver and black, the air stabbing cold. Ahead was a low-floating cloud. As they came closer, its fluff resolved into hills, a twisting spire into a tower. It shone almost white in the moon and starlight.
“Please remain seated with your line taut behind you during landing.” Nebulosa swept her wings wide, and descended on Silvercloud in a smooth arc. Closer, Meline could see lights coming from one of the hills and the tower before she sat. A few powerful backflaps, then one muted swish of powerful wings, and Meline lurched as Nebulosa touched down.
“Please disconnect your harness and leave your cord in a fully untied situation,” Nebulosa called back, turning her head.
“Right. Thank you.” Meline was glad her stomach could sit still again.
“Thank you, Nebulosa,” Ella said.
“Thanks!” Selva struggled with her knot as Meline and Ella undid their harnesses.
“Remember to use the big feathers,” Ella said once they’d freed Selva and were climbing down.
Meline felt Ella’s strong arms about her waist as she descended the last few inches. When she was down, she gave Ella a peck on the cheek.
It’d been a long time since she’d stepped on a cloud. The feeling was…
“It’s so solid!” Selva said. “But fluffy?” She grabbed a bit of cloud. “And cold!”
“We’re very high up,” Ella said, “even though this is quite low for a cloud. The air gets colder and thinner the higher up you go.”
“And it’s solid because Valdr has lived here for…” Meline looked to Ella, who flashed ten fingers twice, and then five, “twenty-five thousand years.”
“I’ll just be off to the owlery,” Nebulosa said, having finished straightening herself up. “Come find me when you need to be off.” And she flapped away to the tower.
“Come on,” Ella said, gesturing to the hall. Selva took Meline’s hand. Meline looked down; suddenly the eyes under the cap looked solemn. Meline gave Selva’s hand a squeeze.
From the rolling field where they landed it was a short walk to Valdr’s hall, cut into the side of a hill. They hit on a path partway, and followed it to the door, which was dark cloud—nimbostratus? Meline’s cousin Erald lived on a cloud back in Fey, he’d probably know—with a silvery pull-cord to the left. Ella reached up and pulled.
One bell rang. Then two, then four, until a huge ringing of bells announced their arrival in a thousand voices. They fell silent the instant the doorknob turned.
The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline: Frog Legs Soup, Part One
One evening, after the moon had risen, Meline went out to get water from the pond. She took a thimble bucket, and her mantle of deep-black, and her willow staff. She yawned, because the moon was just out. She heard the lowing of cows.
The pond was quiet. The frogs had sung in spring, so all Meline could hear were the night sounds: a dog barking far off, the gnats in buzzing clouds, and moth and bat flitting over the water. The smell of grass and hay and the world breathing put a smile on her face.
As she drew her water, Meline saw a stirring far from shore. She raised her staff, and spoke a word of power. The emerald drop in her staff glowed, as did the sand at the edge of the pond. Meline took a handful of sand, and tossed it at the ripples. As the sand fell through the water, Meline saw a tadpole in the light it cast.
She huddled down at the water’s edge, and the tadpole came to the strand. And then another. And another. And one more. And one more. Until the shallows around Meline were fluttering with tadpoles.
Frog Legs Soup, Part Three
Meline woke to the sound of scratching, and the rhythmic creak of wood. The tittering of birds came from nearby. Her pillow was softer than usual, the sheets smelled of lavender with just a pinch of sage. It was a while before she opened her eyes.
The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline, Chapter Nine: Kindling
This chapter is dedicated to Mom.
Also, content warning: child abuse is fairly central to this one, guys.
***
Meline allowed herself the smuggest of grins as she came up West Earth Shaft; she’d gathered enough deep-black for several mantles. She thought about curing it; cured deep-black was sunbeam-resistant, but it lost a lot of softness and stretch as a result. She patted her rucksack; there was lots of time to decide what to do with it.
The elevator stopped, and she got out. A short walk down the passage, and she asked the earth to guide her, her will flowing down the walls and floor and ceiling. The shaft was ajar, her lid shifted off to one side to allow fresh air in while Meline was down here, but that also meant creatures could sneak in. They didn’t often, but Meline didn’t feel like getting nipped by a cricket tonight.
It came as a mild surprise, then, when she felt something. A trio of pulses so soft against the earth a younger fairy might’ve missed them, but unmistakeable as the breath and heartbeats of sleep. Meline held her staff across her body, asked her staff to light, and started forward, letting her feet loudly scuff against the dirt. No change. She heard a stirring from the alcove directly under the tunnel’s lid, and stepped into it from as far opposite the disturbance as she could.
The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline, Chapter Seven: Milk and Honey and Single-Malt Whiskey
This chapter is dedicated to Mom.
***
Meline was on her way to Ella’s. The sun had just set—she’d started out early to make best use of the night—and it was windy from the south. She stuck close to the oaks to block the worst of the gusts. In her pack was a salted shrimp. She doubted Ella had tried one before, and wondered what she’d make of it. She also had a wheel of cheese—pigeons made a mint selling their milk, and the fey made good use of it—and an old recipe courtesy of Vedris’s family. She also had her gameboard.
Meline heard a noise just out of tune with the wind. She glanced over her shoulder; nothing alarming. She tightened her grip on her staff, covered herself in her deep-black mantle, and picked up her pace.
The noise came again, just on the furthest edge of hearing. Meline spun around. “Jules? Your pranks are usually better than this!”
No response.
She kept moving.
She whispered a word of power. Her own footfalls echoed through the ground. There was no one else around. She unspoke the word, and kept walking.
***
Havel answered the door when Meline rang the bell. He bowed. “Good to see you, Meline,” he said. “The stone cloak worked well?”
“Like a charm,” Meline said as a gust blew her inside. Havel shut the door with a shade more oomph than usual. “I hardly felt the fence’s iron at all!”
“Excellent,” Havel said. “So, what do you and Master have planned? She said something about a game?”
“Fey’s Bend.” Meline pulled out a stack of cards, and patted the corner of the gameboard poking out from her pack. “Or Fiz Bind, as a friend of mine calls it. Can you believe Ella’s never played?”
“Yes.” Meline answered her own question at the same time as Havel. They laughed, and Meline gave him a gentle smack on the arm.
“You’ll be in the shop?”
Havel nodded. “Just filing and inlay tonight.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Master says safety’s important, so no fires or powerful machines without someone else present.”
“A sensible master you have,” Meline said. “I’ll let myself up.” She lowered her voice. “You’re welcome to some shrimp once it’s cooked up.”
Havel lit up. “You won’t have to worry about leftovers!” He almost skipped down to the shop. Meline smiled, and started up the stairs.
Ella met her partway to the kitchen. “There’s a trespasser in Oakhill,” Meline said as they hugged. She kissed Ella on the cheek. “Will you need Havel’s help to subdue this intruder?”
Ella lifted Meline onto the stair above her own. “I can handle this one.” She kissed Meline back, and Meline snaked an arm through Ella’s as they continued up the stairs together. “You were bringing dinner?” Ella said, glancing at Meline’s pack. “Would you like me to carry that?”
“Oh, it’s just a few steps more,” Meline said, “but thank you. And I was wondering,” as they entered the kitchen, “what you would say to,” she set her pack down, pulled a package wrapped in dock leaf out onto the counter and undid the cord, “shrimp?”
Ella goggled. The whole shrimp, curled up, was almost two inches wide. “Will we be able to eat all this?”
Meline twirled a lock of her hair. “Was it improper of me to invite Havel to share it with us?”
“Of course not!” Ella was still inspecting the shrimp. “He practically lives here! Besides, it’s the autumnal equinox; the greater the sharing, the greater the blessing.” A light went on in Ella’s eyes. “Before we get started on the shrimp, I want to show you something.” She fetched a wine cask from the back room, a funnel, and a hefty tin thimble with a lid made from an old copper pipe end cap.
Intrigued, Meline followed her down the stairs. Ella went to the shop, told Havel they’d be out, and grabbed a wheelbarrow. “Follow me.” She loaded the cask and the pail into the wheelbarrow.
Ella led Meline away from the huge, strange panels, their flat rectangular faces aimed at the southern sky. Meline was relieved, but they were in full view of the house. At least its windows were dark.
“So what are you taking me to see?” Meline asked.
Ella smiled. “Something from yesterday, for you and me.” The grass swished about them. “But from long ago and far away, for humans.” The oaks, it turned out, continued into the yard; there was a break in the pines, elms, and maples—though not, unfortunately, the fence’s iron wire—and the oaks simply kept growing in their line. The grass, unusually, wasn't trimmed painfully short, nor were the old leaves of yesteryear swept away and burnt. Strange, for humans.
Between two potentillas and a less-than-wild rose was an oak stump.
“Have you ever wondered,” Meline said as they approached the stump, “why humans have changed so much?”
Ella wheeled around the stump to the opposite side. To Meline’s surprise, fairy-sized steps were carved into the wood. “Hmm,” Ella lifted the cask and pail out of the wheelbarrow. “Well,” she started up the steps; Meline followed with the funnel, “when I first left Fey, the northern lands across Gaea were covered in ice, colossal beasts roamed the land, and there were… a few humans, I guess. Where I first settled, they mostly lived in halls cut into hillsides.”
“Sounds more civilized than they are now,” Meline said.
Ella shrugged. “I’ve wondered if humans have changed because the world changed around them. I can’t say why. But I’d bet many such changes are only skin-deep.”
Meline almost stopped. “What do you—”
Ella gave Meline a grin. “I know I’ve been called mad. Truth is, I’ve always lived near humans. Couldn’t say why, other than that I want to. And I’ve watched. I’ve seen humans do great good, and despicable evil. Sometimes in the same hour. And believe it or not, some humans,” she reached the top of the stump and stood aside for Meline, “have not forgotten our old accords.”
Meline’s jaw dropped. On the stump were two porcelain egg cups. One was full of milk that hadn’t known the touch of iron. The other was thick, creamy honey, similarly untouched.
Meline turned to Ella, who was still grinning. “Why?”
“Haven’t the slightest.” Ella filled the cask with milk while Meline held the funnel. The honey flowed easily into the pail. Ella held the cup, and Meline scraped out the remainder with a spatula.
“How long has this been going on?” Meline carried the cask back down the steps while Ella carried the pail.
Ella put a finger to her lips. “A few years now, I’d say. Ever since the human raised his house.” She looked around. “Can you keep a secret?” Meline leaned in close. “We've actually spoken, he and I.”
Meline would’ve dropped the pail if Ella hadn’t snapped her free hand up to steady it. “What!”
“He came to me, and after some amusing confusion we both made it clear,” Ella said, taking her hand off the pail once Meline had control again, “that we would like to live in peace, and he—they, there’s more than one now— have done what they can to let me do as I wish, and vice-versa. If there are any problems, I leave a note under a stone on this stump, and he’ll do the same, and we talk it out. Other than that, they just stop on their way in or out of the house and look up at Oakhill. He’ll come lay a hand on the trunk, too. And, I mean…” she held up the pail and gave it a small shake; the milk inside gently sloshed.
“True,” Meline said, glancing in the direction of the house. It was on the other side of the stump.
“What’s been your experience with humans?” Ella asked once they’d started back. “Most fey stay away, especially nowadays.”
Meline looked up at the house. “I think it’s normal for the small to stay out of the way of the big.” She considered. “Most fey I know around here simply avoid humans, so I guess I just do that.”
“But do you fear them?”
Meline thought about that. They were halfway through the shadow of the house when she looked up. The pale disc of a face was in the window. A moment later, it was gone. “I… haven’t seen enough of them to say. Whatever fear I feel is what I’ve been taught.”
They walked in silence for a while. Meline glanced at the stars; they were dazzling this evening. To the north was the gentlest glow of the aurora. The wind was picking up, but the trees mostly blocked it; the grass about Meline was hardly stirring.
They passed out of the house’s shadow. The moon, just past her last quarter, cast Oakhill in a silvery glow. Her leaves would soon turn, and winter would have the world in her icy grip once again.
Ella unlocked the door. “I don’t blame the fey that do fear humans. It’s not unjustified.” She opened the door. “But I am glad that you don’t. Now,” she closed the door behind Meline, “Let’s get this all squirreled away in the larder so you can teach me to play cards.”
***
Oakhill’s dining hall was cozy. It had a small north-facing window on the far wall, and an impressive brick-lined fireplace just beneath, wholly unnecessary on the first night of autumn. The room was instead lit by copper lanterns that glowed when Ella touched a panel by the door.
The shrimp was roasting in the kitchen. Meline had already de-veined it, with Ella’s help. At present, Meline was setting up the board for Fey’s Bend. She and Ella had each chosen their game pieces—Meline, as always, chose the fey kine, while Ella chose the fairy horses. While Meline explained the basic rules—to make it around the board and open six fairy gates, and then leave through your own—she set the board on a long table under the chandelier, a massive arrangement of copper and quartz crystals hanging from the ceiling. The board was in the shape of a heptagon. Each gate, nine squares apart, was marked: the first had a tongue of flame, the second a drop of water, the third the half moon, the fourth a quartz crystal, the fifth an oak leaf, the sixth a nugget of gold, and the seventh the sun.
“So, do I start at my own element?” Ella said, examining the board. Meline had owned it for three hundred years, and kept it in good repair.
“I mean, you could,” Meline said, “but it doesn’t really matter. There’s no advantage or disadvantage to picking a particular one.”
Ella shrugged. “I’ll stick with my gold nugget, I think.”
Meline smiled. “Suit yourself. I think I’ll start at the wood gate today. Oh, and here.” She dealt Ella seven cards. “Here’s the words you can use.”
“Words? Like words of power?”
“Yeah,” Meline said. “You can spend them to draw cards, for yourself or one of the other players, or to match against cards from the guardian hands. But once you run out, you don’t get any more.” She smiled. “You're out of the game if you run out of cards, so don't be extravagant with them.”
Meline also dealt seven cards apiece to herself, and to each of the gates.
“Before we get properly started,” Meline said, getting up and stretching, “we should go check the shrimp.”
“Agreed,” Ella said, also getting up. “Can I grill you some more while we check? From what you’ve said, this game can get quite intricate.”
“By all means,” Meline said as they headed for the kitchen, “but the best way to figure the game out is to play it.”
The shrimp was roasting nicely—Meline thought it’d be ready on time for supper—but she added a few slices of green onion and chives Ella had left over.
When they sat back down, Meline thought something was off. Had the game board been tilted slightly?
“Meline?” Ella’s brows were furrowed. “These aren’t the cards you dealt me.”
Meline looked at her own hand. “Mine aren’t the same either.” She looked around. “Havel?”
“Is down in the shop working on a project,” Ella said, looking around, “and only plays tricks two nights of the year.” There was a moment’s pause.
The window slammed shut, making them both jump. “I know the shutters were latched,” Ella said, hardly more than whispering.
The skin on Meline’s neck prickled. “Are there… are there any ghosts in Oakhill?”
Ella gave a wry smile. “No one’s died here, if that’s what you’re asking. Besides,” Ella got back to her feet, “the Great Sage taught me how to bless my land so mischievous spirits can’t come here. No,” she gestured for Meline to get up, “I think someone—a corporeal someone—has snuck into my hall.”
The only sound was the creaking of the tree. Meline got to her feet. “Have you ever seen the play ‘Three Nights at Croak Hall’?”
“No, why?”
“It starts out very much like this,” Meline said, “and everyone dies.”
“Sounds like a barrel of laughs.” Ella’s eyes traced back and forth across the room. “How about we pack up Fey’s Bend for the time being, go get Havel from the shop, and hunker down in the kitchen while we come up with a way to find this interloper?”
“I like that plan,” Meline said, as she gathered the pieces and put them back in their little box.
The shrimp seemed untouched; Meline did notice, however, that the paring knife was by the sink, rather than on the island where she’d left it.
“Our prankster seems more inclined toward the unsettling than the harmful,” Ella observed when Meline pointed this out. They started down the stairs. “All the same, I’m glad the key to the armoury is about my neck.”
Meline halted on the stairs. “I forgot about that.”
Ella turned around. “Skill with weapons requires weapons to train with.”
“No no, I didn’t mean anything—”
“Meline.” Ella took a step back up the stair. “If you ever give me offense,” she took Meline’s left hand in her own much warmer right, “I’ll tell you.”
Kiss her!
Meline pushed the thought away. Now?
No, give it another thousand years or so, Yes Now!
I don’t want to be forward!
She didn’t complain the last time you were forward!
I’m sure she has more important things on her mind right now!
If the look she’s giving you were any more “come hither”, she’d—
Both of them jumped when a clattering bang rang from down the stairs. “We should investigate that!” Meline said, her face burning.
“Yes!” Ella responded more loudly than necessary, “yes we should!”
The door to the wine cellar was hanging open. “The whiskey!” A cask was sitting on a stool in the middle of the cellar. Ella gave it a shake; it was empty. There was a puddle of spirits on the floor.
“Meline?” Meline looked up. Ella’s expression reminded Meline of her mother’s, when, after hours of gruelling preparation, her brothers Dimo--then Djan--and Sol had knocked the Midsummer Crab out the window. Neither of Meline’s parents had ever raised a hand in anger to their children, but Meline had a feeling her mother had never before or since come so close to crossing that line.
“Yes?” Meline’s voice was barely more than a squeak.
Ella took a breath so deep it must’ve scraped the ocean bottom, set the cask softly back down, the tendons in the backs of her hands clear and hard as cables as she did so, and left.
***
Ella opened the shop door. The lights were out.
“Get the lights!” Havel called. Ella tapped the panel.
Meline stood aside to let Havel into the passage. There was a harried look on his face, and his clothes were covered in dust as if he’d rolled on the floor.
“Fell over?” Ella asked with a quirked eyebrow. Something in Ella’s expression brought Havel from exasperated to concerned quicker than a goat to grass.
“Twice,” he said, brushing himself off. “I was nearly pulling my hair out by the roots when you opened the door!”
“Ah,” Ella said, more shortly than Meline had ever heard her.
“Someone snuck into Oakhill, and is playing tricks on us,” Meline said. “We’re going up to the kitchen to keep an eye on the shrimp, and plan how we’re going to catch them.”
“Yes, we should protect the shrimp,” Havel said. “Let’s go.”
Ella led the way. Havel dropped back a couple steps and motioned for Meline to do the same. “Master isn’t usually this…”
“Terse?” Meline offered.
“Yeah.” Havel watched the back of Ella’s head. “Did something happen?”
“She found an empty cask of whiskey in the cellar.”
Havel looked at Meline; his face passed through white, green, and red before settling on a deep blue. “The single malt?”
“…Yes?” Meline said. “I take it that whiskey was important to her?” Havel nodded. “Can I ask why?”
Havel weighed that question for a moment. “You can,” he said, “but I can’t answer.”
Meline nodded. “Because it isn’t your story to tell?”
“Correct.” Ella had stopped without them noticing. “And because,” Ella gave a half-approving, half-reprimanding look to her pupil, “he only knows part of the tale. Now let’s get up to the kitchen.”
There was a ladle in the pot the shrimp was roasting in, and the counter of the island had been cleaned, but the kitchen was otherwise unchanged.
“Havel, block this door,” Ella said once all three of them were in the kitchen. Havel took a chair and propped it against the doorknob. Ella went to the pantry, and returned with a cord. She tied the double-doors into the dining hall.
“So,” Ella said, looking at Havel, “what would be a plan to search all of Oakhill, top to bottom, with a decent chance of finding this vagabond?”
Havel sat in the chair by the door. “Um,” he looked like he was forcing his mind into motion, “Start from the top, work down, and lock every room as we clear it?”
Ella nodded. “Simple, but effective. Can you walk us through the details?”
Havel regained more of his normal colour. “Well,” he said, “we’ll each need a staff, or a pole. The crystal shields would be a good idea, too. They’re see-through, so we can see movement in front of them without having to peer around them.” At Ella’s nod, he continued, growing more confident as he went. “It’d be best to start at the door to the roof, and make sure it's locked. You, Master, are the only one with a key.” Ella produced a small silver key with teeth poking out in all directions, hanging from a chain about her neck. “We should examine the door in case they broke in that way, though I doubt it. We should search room by room, corridor by corridor.” He clapped his hands. “We should use the fairy bells!”
“Wait,” Meline said. Ella and Havel turned to look at her. “Fairy bells are expensive, and Oakhill is pretty big. How many do you have?”
“Twenty-six,” Ella and Havel said without missing a beat. Ella almost smiled when Meline’s jaw dropped. “I’m a metalworker, and they’re one of my main sources of income. And that’s not counting the ones that are already up by the roof, the front door, the shop, the armoury, and the stable.”
“That’s why it’s unlikely anyone broke in through the roof,” Havel said, “the bells would alert us. And that’s why they likely didn’t get in through the stable or the front door.”
“Although,” Ella said, “the bells wouldn’t go off if someone entered whom the bells recognized, and the thief slipped in at the same time.”
“So when I came over, before we went to the stump,” Meline said, “and Havel opened the door for me…”
“The thief could’ve slipped in, yes,” Ella said. “Don’t worry; I’m not blaming either of you for this.”
“And if the thief had something like your mantle,” Havel said to Meline, “they could sneak right past us. So,” he looked to Ella, “We start at the top and work down, blocking off the passages with the fairy bells. As we work through whole passages and wings, we move the bells. Is that a sound plan, Master?”
Ella nodded. “I’m glad you’ve paid attention when we discuss strategy, Havel. It is good.” Havel rubbed the back of his neck, a small bashful smile on his face. “Let’s get to it, then.”
***
The bells in question were stored in the armoury. Each bell was a set of three, hung on bronze eyelets. The bells themselves were silver, in the shape of gryphons’ heads. The clappers were their tongues. As Ella unwrapped each one, their eyes—tiny garnets set in howlite—blinked, and they started panting. If the bells had had tails, they’d be wagging.
Ella introduced each bell to Meline, and once they’d gotten a good sniff, they licked her hand.
“They’re pretty cute,” Meline said, scratching one behind its fingernail-sized ear.
“Wait until they start ringing at woodlice in the middle of the night,” Ella said. “You have no idea how long it takes to train them out of that.”
Each bell was re-wrapped and set in a pack, which Meline carried. Havel and Ella each took a pole—Meline had her staff—and they all took crystal shields. Each shield was a miniature wall with silver rims, and if you touched one rim to another, they would stick together. All but the tallest passages in Oakhill would be stopped up so tightly only a fly might squeeze past.
The door to the roof was locked and unharmed, and the bells guarding it gave a few happy yips when they approached. Meline scratched them behind their ears, after she let them sniff her hand. From there, they worked steadily down, clearing rooms and passages. In a few places, they marked evidence of the burglar’s mischief—a painting askew here, a few books knocked over there. Meline reflected that the whiskey was the greatest offence the burglar had committed thus far, besides the trespassing itself.
They reached Ella’s room once a third of Oakhill had been cleared. It looked, to Meline, exactly as it had the day Ella first brought her to Oakhill months ago. Ella went stiff the moment they entered. She strode to her bed, where Meline noticed two books on the pillow, and picked one up.
Meline approached the bed. “What are—”
“Nothing!” Ella said, snatching up the second book before Meline could see it. Her blush was obvious, as were the pale and red striping across it. She went to her closet, threw open the door, and stuffed both books in a chest. She muttered something, and bronze claws erupted from the lid, hooking into divots set all around the chest’s lip. “Now no one is getting into my things without all of Oakhill knowing it.”
Meline stepped around the bed.
Ella took a deep breath. “One is a book of my current writings, which are ready for no eyes but mine. The other,” she closed the closet door, “is my journal, with which I will be far more careful in the future.”
Someone’s breath hissed between their teeth. Ella and Meline looked to the door as Havelspun on his heel and swung his pole. There was a muffled whumpf as it hit someone invisible, then a pattering of feet.
Ella shot past Meline, clearing the bed with a single leap. She practically bounced off the wall opposite her bedroom door, and was sprinting down the passage before Meline had closed the door. “Wait,” Meline said when Havel went to follow, “let’s get this bell in place.”
“But, Master—”
“Is not herself,” Meline said, as she removed her pack and started unwrapping a bell, “and will not thank us for leaving this door unguarded so the thief can sneak in again.”
Havel considered that before he pulled out his hammer and a pair of copper nails. They hung the bells, and were heading down the passage to follow Ella when she came back around the corner. She’d regained her composure, but there was a line of tension along her neck, and she gripped her pole as if it had viciously betrayed her confidence. “You installed the bell?” she said, and Meline was surprised Ella’s breath didn’t frost as she spoke. Havel nodded. “Good. Let’s keep moving.” Ella spun on her heel.
“Ella.”
“Yes?” Meline almost jumped at the sharpness in her voice. Ella breathed in, and let something go as she breathed out. She turned around. “I'm sorry. What is it, Meline?”
Meline struggled for words. “Let’s go back to the kitchen. I think,” she said when Ella opened her mouth to object, “that we could all use a break. We’ve searched and set bells on the most important rooms, now.”
Ella’s expression was unreadable. “Very well.”
The shrimp was untouched when they returned to the kitchen. Meline checked the temperature, and professed it nearly ready. Havel nodded, and his belly gave a great rumble. Ella gave a grunt of acknowledgement.
Meline clutched her medicine bag. She turned away from the roasting crustacean, and sat opposite Ella, staring at her until Ella looked up.
“What, Meline?” she asked. Havel loudly prepared a pot of tea.
Meline toyed with the strap on her bag to keep from clenching her hands. “I understand being upset that someone has snuck into your home,” Meline said. “I would be too. And I wouldbe outraged if anyone flipped through my diary like Vedris through the monthly news.
“But you only seemed watchful and concerned when we realized someone trespassed into Oakhill. And you were already angry when we saw your room.” She groped for words. “I know that whiskey was important. If you can tell me what it means to you, it might help you clear your head, and help us catch this burglar.”
Ella looked down at her hands for so long that Meline thought she wouldn’t answer.
C’mon, this is clearly a deep personal secret, there’s no way she’ll share with you!
I have to try, even if it only helps a little.
Yeah, we all know how little you can hel—
“My mother was elected a Baron of the Fey Court,” Ella said. “My father is a knight.” She shrugged. “Well, his mother was, so he’s of knightly lineage.
“Pops and I were close, when I was young. He taught me how to work metal, a less common skill for a wood fairy to have.” She smiled. “His eyes were full of proud tears when I showed him my first knife.” The smile faded. “Mother and I were… distant. She would ask how went my studies, and I’d ask after affairs at Court, if I wasn’t there with her, but… we hardly ever just… talked. I wondered sometimes if she loved me at all, or if she was trying to be nice because I was her eldest, and required grooming.
“I was ten thousand years old when the War began. Pops is a knight by blood only; his mother had hardly bothered training him with spear and shield, so he went as my mother’s armourer and squire. Mother, however, was skilled in magic and in warfare; she was a wizard, and a captain under Alluzandra.” Meline recognized the name. “But like my father, she was at heart a peaceful soul.”
A small smile tugged at Ella’s lips again. “She loved growing things, even though she was a fire fairy. Before she and Dad left—I stayed to run the estate with my sister—we talked. Longer and deeper than we ever have, and then she gave me a bag of barley and a lump of bronze. She told me to bring as much joy with them as I could, in my own way. And she would love to see what I made of them.”
“So when spring came, and my studies allowed, I planted the barley. I watered it. I weeded it. I cut and threshed and harvested it. The bronze I made into the instruments of agriculture and distillation.
“When I had grown that barley for twenty-seven years, and filled three silos, I began distilling it. I knew little of wood magic, but Pops had taught me a few things, and I consulted my younger sister, Annafleth, also a wood fairy and far more inclined toward gardening and growing things than I am. So I worked, tweaking and modifying my brew, until I had a serviceable whiskey. I sweetened it with caramelized honey, and poured it into oak casks, to age until Mother returned and sampled it.”
There was a pause. The kettle started to boil. “After fifteen hundred years… only Pops came back.” Ella looked like someone who had handled a set of memories so many times they hardly hurt at all anymore.
“I left home soon after, and the estate to my sister, who runs it with Pops now.” Ella met Meline’s eyes. “I didn’t realize my mother loved me until it was too late for me to tell her I loved her in any way but writing. That whiskey was supposed to be the start of something better than what we’d had.” She looked above the sink, at the sheaf of barley hanging over the window. “Every five hundred years, on the anniversary of her death, I return to Fey. I visit White Hills, where she died, and Sycamore Rill, our family’s hall, where she’s buried. In both places, I pour out a chalice of this whiskey for her, and have a glass myself. Sometimes Pops or Annafleth joins us, too, but usually they lets us be.”
Ella took a breath. Meline almost missed the hitch in it. “This cask was the last.”
Havel blew his ears with a sound like a muffled horn. Meline took the—unused—kerchief he offered her.
“So,” Meline hiccoughed after they’d mostly dried their tears, “do you feel a bit better?”
Ella wetly chuckled. “I’m not about to kill anyone now.”
There was a knock at the door. “Hello?
Ella was up in an instant, reaching for the handle and her pole.
“Wait!” Meline held up a hand. “Felix?”
“… Aye.”
Ella mouthed “You know him?” Meline nodded. Ella took an enormous breath. “Enter.”
The door opened. Felix was almost a head shorter than Meline. Like her, he wore neither boots nor shoes. His walnut-and-grey hair would’ve been wild if he didn’t tie it down with a rag that might once have been blue. He had a small moustache and a beard that grew nowhere but on his chin and lower lip. It couldn’t be bothered to grow anywhere else.
"Lord Ella of Oakhill, this is Felix Hildasson. He's a walk—"
Ella’s frown was deeper than a gorge. “Why have you broken into my hall and gone through my things?”
Felix looked more ashamed than Meline had seen him in a while. He glanced at her, then looked back up at Ella. “I mean’ no ‘arm. There was this big snake, ‘n’ she chased me up t’ this tree, an’ I dipped in through yer barn door. I—”
“Felix,” Meline said, “was this a black she-snake with light stripes?”
His head practically vibrated up and down. “Aye! Said she was Famofus er somthin’, but I didn’ stick around t’ hear more!”
Ella sat down. “How… how did you get into the stable? I have fairy bells on the door.”
“There was a fairy horse walked in same time I did,” Felix said, “startled ‘im a bit, near got kicked fer it.”
“I would imagine so,” Ella said. She sighed. “Why wander about my hall like a thief? If you’d come and explained yourself, I’d have given you a bath, a meal, spare clothes, and a bed. And more, likely, as you’re Meline’s friend.”
“No one was home,” Felix said. “Saw the shop downstairs, ‘n’ young’un there workin’,” Havel blinked at this description of himself, “cursin’ up a storm, an’ left ‘im be.”
Ella spared a glance at Havel. “I cracked the sardonyx inlay I’ve been working on for a month,” he said, and looked down at Felix. “Did you bump anything on the wall as you closed the door?”
“I might’ve.” He registered Havel’s tone. “Sorry. No one else was ‘ome that I could see. Kitchen smelled nice, though.”
“About what time did you run into the stable?” Meline said.
Felix scratched his chin. “Just after moonrise?”
“Minutes after we left,” Ella said. She massaged the bridge between her eyes. “And going through my things? Misplacing them everywhere?”
“Felix is the actual worst when it comes to putting things back where he found them,” Meline said.
“‘arsh,” Felix said. He had the smallest smile on his face.
“But true,” Meline said. She was almost smiling herself. “Walkers don’t have shelves to knock things off of, so you don’t think of it, I suppose.”
“You were in my room,” Ella said. She sounded more exasperated than angry.
“I know I knocked over two books in the big nice bedroom, so I—”
“Did you read them?”
Felix and Meline shared a glance. Meline snorted. “I can’ read,” Felix said. Ella’s jaw dropped. She looked to Meline.
“Also true,” Meline said. “Felix is less literate than a botfly.”
“Also ‘arsh,” Felix said.
“Tellin’ it like it is, friend.”
“Alright, alright,” Ella said, raising her hands. “So: Felix ran into my house because Thamnophis chased him; He found Havel in the shop in a temper, and accidentally shut off the lights; He wandered around looking to see if anyone else was home, bumping into things and replacing them in the wrong spot.” Her look turned quizzical. “Why, once you realized we were here, didn’t you reveal yourself?”
Felix cocked his head. “I never ‘eard a soul ‘til I found the bunch o’ ye in yer room an’ young ‘un took a swing at me.” He looked up at Havel. “Not mad, defendin’ yer ‘ome, I get it.”
“But things have been moving around on us this whole evening,” Havel said. He looked like he was still adjusting to “young’un”.
“This is a big house,” Meline said. “The dining hall alone has three separate entrances.”
Ella nodded, staring for a while at nothing in particular. Eventually, she gave another sigh. “If it weren’t for the cask you spilled in my cellar, I wouldn’t actually have much issue with what you’ve done during your ‘stay’ here.”
“Fair 'n' generous” Felix said. His eyes lit up. “The whiskey, y’mean?”
“Yes,” Ella said, “and for it, I’ll require—”
“It’s fine,” Felix said. Ella’s head snapped up. “I knocked over the little barrel when I put my staff in yer cellar, an’ I cracked it. So I switched it t’ another one. I’ll show yeh!”
The whiskey was in fact in another cask. Ella confirmed with a sniff and a taste. She held the cask like she’d found her lost child. Meline came up and wrapped an arm around Ella’s waist. Ella leaned her head on Meline’s.
Once she’d regained her composure, Ella turned back to Felix. He somehow looked even shorter. Just as Ella was about to speak, his belly gave a huge rumble.
“Have you… when was the last time you ate, Felix?”
He counted on his fingers. “Six days ago?” At her raised eyebrows, he looked only the slightest bit defensive. “I’m a Walker. We see the world, we live nowhere, we ‘elp where we can, an’ we take nothin’. 'Specially food. I wouldn’ steal it if I ‘adn’ eaten fer twice that.”
Ella nodded. She thought a moment. “I won’t lie, you’ve made some unwise decisions tonight. But none that caused any lasting harm, and none that you can’t pay for.”
“Pay?” Meline said.
“I can chop wood,” Felix said, “and maybe add a room t’ yer home ‘ere, if you like.”
“I’m joking,” Ella said. “Well, half-joking; pass along my regards and a small offering to the Great Sage Beyond the Moon the next time you visit Fey, and I’ll count myself compensated.” She held out a hand. After a moment, Felix took it. “Now, shall we celebrate the Autumnal Equinox? As they say, the greater the sharing, the greater the blessing.”
***
The smell of roasted shrimp filled the dining hall. Shelled and de-veined, the shrimp herself was laid out steaming on a platter with herbs and berries. Felix looked flabbergasted; Meline could see him swallowing, probably to empty his watering mouth.
Ella raised her goblet of honeyed milk. Meline noted her tired, relieved smile.
“Winter soon shall sally forth
From coldest waste in frigid North.
Balanced now twixt stars and sun
Remember we the Summer’s fun.
“Cherish warmth and scrumptious food,
And friends who lift the darkling mood.
Autumn’s here from west to east,
With milk and honey in jar we feast.”
As Ella carved the shrimp and Havel served mashed potato, carrots, and salad, Felix nudged Meline with his elbow. “Does ‘er lordship play Fiz Bind?”
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