“Where is everyone?”
“Phoebus.”
“Sorry, I don’t understand,” Damselfly queried.
“My name is Phoebus, told you I knew it.” The owl puffed out his chest, satisfied at being proved right.
Buttontail hopped over to Damselfly before allowing himself to be picked up so he could get a better sight of their new guide.
“This bird is nuts,” Buttons whispered.
“I am no such thing,” Phoebus remarked. “I am the wisest owl in Fable.”
Damselfly had been struggling with a feeling that she had seen this exact picture elsewhere and now it dawned on her.
“My family name is Thrane. It is said that my uncle went out into the wild while deciding what to do with his life and was advised by a wise owl that he should lead a rebellion against the Fairy King. Our family crest is an owl sitting upon a tree branch, just as you are doing now. Are you the same owl?”
“I don’t remember,” Phoebus replied.
“A wise owl who cannot remember his own wisdom,” Buttons chuckled.
“You said earlier we were not looking hard enough,” Damselfly started.
“Did I? When?” the bird enquired.
“Only a few moments ago.”
“Perhaps,” Phoebus acquiesced. “It sounds a very wise thing to say, so I may have said it.”
“You did say it a few moments ago, when I stated there was nothing other than fields in all directions,” Damselfly struggled.
“Well, there you are certainly mistaken,” Phoebus reveled. “If you go west, there is a gate, north is the river, east is the marketplace and south is—”
“A marketplace,” Damselfly interrupted. “There has to be someone who knows where we can find the Matriarch,” Damselfly cried.
“It is on the tip of my tongue,” Phoebus rambled.
“This bird is one nut short of a bunch,” Buttons teased.
“Thank you for helping us,” Damselfly shouted.
“Did I help you?” Phoebus queried.
“Yes, we will go east as you told us,” the princess answered.
“Very good idea, I am wise to suggest such a prudent course of action,” Phoebus credited.
“Maybe we could help you in exchange for your kindness,” Damselfly offered.
“Well, I am searching for something,” Phoebus announced.
“What is it? Maybe we can help you find it.”
“I have forgotten,” Phoebus concluded.
Buttons could not control his laughter any longer. He escaped Damselfly’s grasp and began rolling on the floor with merriment.
“You’re searching for something, but you forgot what it is,” he gasped in between guffaws.
Phoebus hooted indignantly at the display while Damselfly looked sympathetically towards the proud creature.
“I’ll have you know that kings ask for my opinion,” Phoebus claimed.
“Which kings?” Buttons teased.
“Well, you know, tall well-dressed fellows with crowns. I can’t be expected to remember all their names after so long.”
Buttons giggled, finding the whole spectacle hilarious despite Damselfly’s withering glances.
“I know every story ever told,” Phoebus bragged.
“I love stories,” Damselfly shared. “Perhaps you could tell us one.”
“If he can remember,” Buttons challenged.
“Let me see,” Phoebus considered. “Have you heard The Child Who Swallowed a Bell?”
“No,” Damselfly replied, disappointed, as no doubt Buttons was correct and the old owl did not really know any good tales.
The Child that Swallowed a Bell
There was a child who swallowed a bell,
She could not speak for years,
No one could she tell,
Her many dreams and fears.
The kingdom nervously waited,
The child’s first word was heavily anticipated.
Every time the child opened her mouth the bell would ring,
A single resounding chime,
The child wished to laugh or sing,
To read aloud every story and rhyme.
It was strange to have a child’s room so quiet,
What they would not give for a sound even for one minute.
Her parents were at a loss,
Desperate for one hiccup, cough or cry,
They tried every doctor, alchemist and herbal woman they came across,
None were able to fix the girl’s malady.
The child listened to the birds as they sang,
She opened her mouth to reply and the bell rang.
One day an owl alighted on the window,
He was searching for something,
The child wanted to say hello,
She opened her mouth to hear the bell ring.
The owl thought it was strange a girl that spoke like a bird,
To chime rather than say a word.
The owl decided to look down the girl’s throat,
It was very dark but deep down he could see a bell,
Before it could sound a note,
The owl hooked it out like a worm from a well.
With the obstruction removed the girl could speak,
She did not stop for many a week.
“That was a good story.” Buttontail applauded.
“Yes, it was.” Damselfly agreed. “I thought Old Nana had told me every story in Fable.”
“She is clearly not as wise as I,” Phoebus declared.
“Well, we should be going.” Damselfly looked east hopefully. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Why, was I looking for something?” Phoebus questioned.
After a couple of miles heading east, the fields started to part, revealing first beaten tracks and then roads. Buttontail managed to refrain from eating anything although he was sorely tempted by some carrots that appeared to grow before their eyes.
“These crops are grown by magic,” Damselfly stated.
With his previous experience fresh at hand, Buttontail resisted the delicious-looking vegetables, and they continued heading east until they spotted a horse and cart.
“Excuse me, are we near the market?” Damselfly asked the rider.
“Yes, it is about a mile up ahead.” The rider pointed.
“Would you like a lift?”
“Yes, please,” Damselfly replied, tired from the long journey.
“Get aboard,” the rider instructed as he eased the horse forward with a click of his tongue.
Damselfly was still getting acclimatized to the Magicgarden’s vivid colours; it reminded her of looking through a kaleidoscope and took a little bit of getting used too.
“Where are you from?” the rider asked over his shoulder.
Damselfly was uncertain whether to reveal her true identity or lie. Fortunately, Buttontail had overcome his bout of sickness.
“Do you have anything to eat?” the greedy rabbit interrupted.
“I’m afraid not though the market up ahead has plenty for everyone.”
The rider was a small elderly man whose body seemed to be shrinking; his clothes, boots and even skin appeared to drape over him as though he had not worn them for a decade. He chewed a piece of straw between his teeth where one of the incisors was missing and whistled happily as they trotted along. As they reached the top of a steep hill, the vista of empty fields suddenly changed into a sprawl of crowded streets, noisy with the hustle of passing trade. Damselfly had never seen so many people in her life, and the vivid colour all around only added to the exotic nature of the scene. Between squat brick buildings a snaking bazaar seemed to go on forever; merchants called out their wares over a hubbub of noise created by the sea of people.
“Imagine the different kinds of food they might sell,” Buttontail fantasised.
“Mister, do you know where we might find the Matriarch?” Damselfly asked.
“Not heard the name,” the rider replied.
“She is a famous sorcerer,” Damselfly added.
“Well, if she is into magic then she’ll likely be a part of the Guild. Travel through the labyrinthine streets until you reach a crossroads, head east and you will find the Magic Quarter and likely your friend.”
“Thank you so much,” Damselfly said, hopping down from the cart and helping Buttons down after.
The duo hesitated, staggered by the swell of activity as they plunged into the beating heart of Magicgarden, a place of fantasy, wonder and danger.
The bazaar was organised chaos with stalls ranging from crooked desks to enormous stalls that spanned one end of the street to the other. Damselfly examined the items for sale with curiosity although many of them were strange to her: saltpeter, nightshade, quicksilver; one stall even advertised selling stardust. Buttons was drawn towards a table of gruesome jars which contained all kinds of weird and magical things. One jar was labelled The Inner Eye and actually held a gigantic eyeball, which still moved and blinked. There were wyvern tails, scorpion stings, salamander scales and even phoenix tail feathers. To begin with, Damselfly was surprised to note that none of the products for sale had prices; that was until she overheard an elderly woman bartering and realised that everything in the bazaar was traded rather than bought. One tiny booth, hidden deep down a narrow alley, sold particularly interesting objects, and Damselfly was very sad that she had nothing to trade with. The vender, who was a dark, mysterious man with kohl-laden eyes and a strange smell of aniseed, offered them countless antiquities, each more expansive than the last.
“Can I interest you in sphinx riddles, they are impossible to solve? Or perhaps you are looking for love and need a potion to smooth the course of amore. No, well what about these luck charms, fossilized four-leaf clovers.”
Damselfly politely declined while leading Buttontail deeper into the market. They were just starting to wonder how far it was to the crossroads when Buttontail noticed something familiar in the tapestry of revelations.
“Hey, I’ve seen that cloak before,” he stated.
Damselfly looked through the masses, trying to catch sight of the cloak. Suddenly, as a path cleared, she realised that it was actually a red cape.
“It’s Orion,” Damselfly gasped.
Almost as if he could hear the princess’s exclamation, the sorcerer turned in their direction and his face changed as he recognised them.
“Run,” Damselfly screamed.
Buttontail needed no further instruction as he ducked through the crowd with his powerful back legs. Damselfly was hampered by the crowds, which simply refused to move or be hurried. Fortunately, Orion was experiencing the same frustration behind them as people went about their business, oblivious to the furtive chase.
“Move out of my way,” Orion demanded, with no success.
Damselfly just ran in any direction she could. Buttons had disappeared ahead of her, though, for now, she was only worried about avoiding Orion at all costs. The sorcerer would certainly insist on taking her back home immediately, and any chance of saving her mother’s life would be lost. Briefly catching sight of Buttontail up ahead, Damselfly put on a burst of speed that enabled her to cross a split second ahead of a horse-drawn carriage. The animal reared up in fright as the carriage came to an abrupt halt. One of the wheels came loose from the impact and much of the cargo being transported fell onto the road. While the driver attempted to calm his horse, a crowd gathered to see what had happened. Orion was trapped behind a wall of curious onlookers, and Damselfly was able to reach safety. The princess stopped running when she pulled level with Buttontail whose eyes were fixed on the horizon. As Damselfly caught her breath, she looked up to find a crossroads.
“We found it,” she exclaimed.
“Which way is east?” Buttons enquired.
“It is the direction the sun rises so it must be that way,” Damselfly led.
With no sign of Orion following behind them, they hastened towards the Magic Quarter in their search for the Matriarch.
About a quarter of a mile down the road, their surroundings dramatically altered; the road widened so four carts could have ridden side by side. The path became smooth with different coloured cobbles ranging from orange to purple. Only a handful of people passed them as they reached the Magic Quarter.
Set in a square were four large buildings, each standing higher than any building Damselfly had seen, except for her own home in Thronegarden. Buttontail’s foot twitched in excitement at the idea of such riches. He attempted to move forward; however, his progress was halted by an invisible barrier.
“What is happening?” he questioned.
“It’s magic,” Damselfly responded.
Like a spider whose web has been plucked, a young, disinterested woman appeared wearing immaculate make up and colour-changing nail varnish.
“Yes?”
“We’re looking for the Matriarch. Is she here?” Damselfly enquired.
“Where else would she be,” the young woman answered in a bored voice as she focused on her nails, which flickered from pink to blue and then purple.
“Can we see her?”
The young woman finally deemed it worthy to look at her guests, and clearly, what she saw was not to her liking.
“Who are you?” she managed to ask without sounding interested in the answer at all.
“My name is Princess Damselfly and this is Buttontail. We are on an important mission to find the Matriarch. It is a matter of life and death.”
The young woman raised an eyebrow for a moment before retaining her look of indifference.
“My name is Eloise.”
“That is such a pretty name, and I love your nails,” Damselfly blurted out.
“Quite,” Eloise snipped.
“Can we enter?” Damselfly posed.
“Don’t you know?” Eloise accused. “Only those who possess magic can get through the barrier; it is the only way in.”
“Oh, but we can’t do magic,” Damselfly fretted.
“Oh no.” Eloise made a face. “Then I guess you won’t be coming in.”
“Buttons was brought to life by magic,” Damselfly revealed.
The rabbit swelled up with pride, pulling his waistcoat tight against his protruding stomach that was currently rumbling with hunger.
“He is rather unusual.” Eloise emphasised the last word cruelly.
“Please let us in. My mother is dying and the Matriarch is the only person who can help us,” Damselfly pleaded.
“And just who told you that?”
“Uriel.”
The name had a profound effect on Eloise, whose serenity was completely broken as her face twisted in real concern. She seemed about to speak before changing her mind and creating a gap in the magic barrier.
“Come through, quickly now,” she instructed.
Eloise strode purposefully across the square, forcing Damselfly and Buttons to practically run to keep up. They approached a grand building in the north-east corner where a large oak door had been intricately decorated with moon and stars.
Eloise struck several of the stars in a specific pattern to announce their arrival. Damselfly wondered what would happen if someone knocked without knowing the right combination. The door swung open almost instantly, revealing a beautiful sorceress with fine silver hair, kind green eyes and an aura of authority.
“What is it, my dear?”
“Matriarch, this child claims to have spoken with Uriel,” Eloise reported.
For the first time the Matriarch noticed her guests. She looked at them curiously and Damselfly tried to hide her excitement at actually being in the Matriarch’s presence. “You had best come inside, all of you,” the Matriarch announced.
“Welcome to the Magician’s Guild,” the Matriarch said in a confident voice that filled the large atrium. “You are one of a very small number of non-magicians to ever step foot inside these walls.”
Damselfly was trying to take in everything at once, such wa
s the extraordinary variety that adorned every inch of the space. A narrow spiral staircase wound up from the centre of the room. Around the edges were all kinds of strange and magical objects.
Damselfly was certain that a tapestry rug hanging on the wall could fly, before her eyes caught sight of a large bronze plaque listing the names of every guild member throughout history. She just had time to notice Luyna and Orion’s names before catching sight of one name that had been viciously scored out.
“We will talk in here.” The Matriarch marched them into a gigantic meeting hall filled with a mahogany banquet table capable of seating at least fifty people.
“There is currently no one else here other than us so we shall not be interrupted.”
The Matriarch took a seat, smoothing the layers of her emerald dress as she did so with slender, delicate hands. Damselfly hopped up onto a nearby seat before helping Buttons do the same. Eloise remained standing behind them, biting her ever-changing nails, which now seemed to be going from red to black repetitively.
“Start by telling me your names,” the Matriarch instructed.
“I am Princess Damselfly and this is my companion Buttontail.”
“You are the Princess of Thronegarden.” The Matriarch was shocked though she did not seem to doubt their identity.
“Yes,” Damselfly confirmed. “My mother, the queen, is very sick and I am on a mission to save her life.”
“My goodness, what kind of mission,” the Matriarch enquired.
“I must retrieve Death’s timepiece.”
“Who told you that?”
“Death.”
“You have spoken to the old king?” the Matriarch questioned.
“Yes, we made a deal,” Damselfly explained.
“His timepiece for my mother’s life.”
“No one has seen or heard from Death since he was dethroned,” the Matriarch stated, more to herself than anyone else.
Buttons, who was not so much interested in the mission as he was his own stomach, decided now would be an opportune moment to pursue his own agenda.
“Is there any food knocking about?” he raised.
“What?” the Matriarch responded distractedly. “My apologies, what a poor host I have been. You have rather taken me by surprise, which does not often happen.”
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