by Paul Crilley
“By leaving us hanging over the River Thames,” said Wren dubiously. He had regained consciousness when Beezle grounded the boat on the banks of the river. He had a massive bump on the head, but otherwise seemed to be suffering no ill effects.
“I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“It doesn’t matter if you were thinking straight or not,” said Emily. “We still need your help.”
“This isn’t fair!”
“Hey,” snapped Jack. “If it wasn’t for us, you’d still be stuck in that cage back on the bridge. We saved your life, remember?”
“Yes, I remember! You’re not likely to let me forget, are you?” Beezle stomped ahead of them, then stopped and whirled around. “Fine! What do you want this time?”
“We need to get into the Faerie Tree,” said Emily simply.
Beezle burst out laughing. “Impossible. No humans are allowed.”
“I’ve been there before,” Emily pointed out. “With Corrigan.”
“Yes. With Corrigan. Let me rephrase that. Unaccompa-nied humans are not allowed.”
“Then you can take us in,” said Jack.
“Afraid not. Some of that stuff Munifus said was true. I really am wanted by Titania for … causing mischief. I’ll be arrested on sight.”
“Then we need some kind of disguise,” Emily said. “Something that will get us in so we can speak to Nimue.”
“You’re insane, you know that? She is part of the Queen’s court. You think you can just walk into the throne room and say to Nimue, ‘Oh, excuse us, where exactly did you trap Merlin? We’d like to have a word with him, if you don’t
mind.’”
“Something like that.”
“And when she asks you why you want to know? What are you going to say? ‘Oh, he owed me some money, that’s all.’ Or, ‘I need to return a book I borrowed.’ Yes, I’m sure that will work.”
“Let us worry about that.” She held up the book. “The question is, can you find us disguises?”
Beezle eyed the book hungrily. “And if I do, then that’s us quits?”
“You’ll never see us again,” Emily said.
Beezle licked his lip. “Fine! I’ll have to call in a favor, but if it will get you off my back, then it will be worth it. Follow me.”
He led them eastward, moving through the side streets and back lanes of the city. They never strayed far from the river, though. Emily could always smell the stink of it, hovering on the warm air. It got worse as they walked, and it took Emily a few minutes to realize this was because they were approaching Billingsgate Market. The stench of rotting fish was heavy and cloying, causing her stomach to heave unpleasantly.
“This way,” called Beezle cheerfully, leading them down toward the river, then onto a wooden walkway that traveled along the waterfront. Emily eyed the planks beneath their feet. Some of them seemed to be rotting away.
The walkway turned and extended out over the water, leading to a squat, brightly lid building about halfway across the river. Emily frowned, confused. That couldn’t be right, surely? Wouldn’t the boats and ships crash into it?
Unless they had crossed over into fey London again.
“What is this place?” Jack asked.
“It’s Lady Steel’s Coffeehouse,” said Beezle.
This brought a snort of laughter from Jack. “A coffeehouse? Really? Aren’t you lot more suited to taverns?”
Beezle stopped walking and turned to face Jack. “You shouldn’t make assumptions, boy. I don’t drink. Never have. It clouds the mind, right? I like to stay clearheaded. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” said Emily hastily. “Nothing at all. Very admirable, actually.”
“Hmmph. And for your information, there are a lot of fey like me. Lady Steel saw an opening in the market and took advantage. She runs a whole chain of coffee shops and eateries across fey London.” As they drew closer, Emily could hear the sounds of merriment coming from inside. The lilt and squeak of a badly played fiddle, the clink of glasses, the shouts of laughter. A coffeehouse it may be, but the fey were certainly having a good time inside. The door opened, and Emily found herself staring at a pair of legs that disappeared up past the top of the door. The legs folded up and a huge head peered out at them.
“’Scuse me,” said the giant. “Comin’ thru.”
Emily, Beezle, Wren, and Jack stood aside while the large fey wriggled through the doorway. He pushed himself to his feet with a sigh and brushed himself down.
“Not exactly a giant-friendly establishment,” he said. He turned and stomped away, the whole walkway shaking with his footfalls.
Beezle led them inside. Fey of every kind filled the coffeehouse. Squat, yellow-skinned goblins; tall creatures with white skin and white hair; faeries flitting through the air, casting colorful glows wherever they went. There was a table filled with fishheaded creatures. Emily wondered how they could breathe, but they seemed perfectly content to sit there eating … Emily peered closer. Eating frogs! She looked away in disgust, hurrying after Beezle as he made his way to the front of house. Over in a corner Emily saw a fey similar to one she had seen back in Merrian’s shop, a tall creature with a hollowed-out back. But this fey had hooks attached to the inside of the hollowed-out area, and other fey were taking turns trying to throw little wooden circles over the hooks. As Emily watched, a broad-shouldered dwarf, his beard tied around his waist, took his turn. He missed, the wooden circle falling inside the hollow fey’s body. The dwarf cursed as the fey turned around with a grin, holding out his hand. The dwarf handed over some coins and stomped away in anger.
The serving area of the coffeehouse was a huge circular bartop that looped around a stand-alone wall covered with clear jars. Inside the jars were various brands of coffee beans. Emily had no idea there were so many different types. Beezle pushed his way through the crowds and hauled himself up onto a barstool. After a moment’s hesitation, Emily, Jack, and Wren followed suit.
“Service!” Beezle called, smacking the stained wood.
Emily looked around; there was no sign of anyone serving behind the bar. But a moment later she heard a squeaking sound, and a small platform came whizzing around the circular bar from the other side of the drinks wall. Sitting in the platform was an ancient fey woman who would probably come up only to Emily’s knees if they were to stand side by side. The woman’s face was a mass of such deep wrinkles that her features were hard to make out. What Emily could see, however, were two tiny black eyes that glared at them as her platform jerked to a squeaky halt in front of Beezle.
“Evening, Lady Steel,” said Beezle.
“Beezle.”
“I’ve come to call in my favor.”
“Is that so?” asked Lady Steel. “You sure?”
“Aye.”
“’Bout time. How long has it been? Fifty years?”
“Sixty.”
“So what do you want?”
“Disguises. For these three.”
The woman glanced at them. “What kind?”
“Fey,” said Beezle. “And they have to pass muster. So none of the cheap potions.”
The fey woman drew herself up. “Cheap potions? How dare you? All my products are of the finest quality.”
“Aye,” Beezle said wryly. “That’s why I was sniffed out the moment I stepped into Queen Caelia’s castle. They were actually watching me from across the field. Knew who I was the whole time.”
“Pah. The Irish fey are a paranoid lot. Anyway, I’ve adapted my work since then. Learned from your mistakes.”
“Your mistakes.”
“Whatever. Take them through the back. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Beezle slid off his stool and motioned for them to follow. He moved through the crowds and opened a door at the far end of the coffeehouse. It led into what looked like a private dining area. A long table dominated the room, but it was empty at the moment.
A few minutes later, Lady Steel entered the room carrying a small woode
n box. She climbed up a small set of stairs that Emily hadn’t even noticed and put the box on the tabletop, flicking it open with a sharp click of her fingers.
“Right,” she said, eyeing Emily. “What are you after? Big or small? Goblin? Faerie?”
“What?” Emily looked uncertainly at Beezle.
“Your disguise,” the fey said. “What do you want to be?” He saw the look on her face. “It’s not permanent, you idiot. It’ll last … what?” He glanced at the old fey. “Five? Six hours?”
“About that.”
“Enough to get you where you’re going without being discovered.”
“So. What’ll it be?”
Emily thought back to her time in the Faerie Tree. What had been the most common fey she had seen? What stood out in her mind were the tall, graceful fey. But the very fact that they stood out meant that they were too visible. She thought harder. As she and Corrigan had walked through the branches, there had been lots of smaller fey going about their business. She had seen quite a few piskies, she recalled.
“A piskie?”
“Ah, the rats of the fey world,” said Beezle.
“Good choice,” said Steel. “Common as mud, piskies. You’ll blend right in.”
She fished around in the box and took out two small vials, handing one to Emily and one to Jack. She rummaged around a bit more.
“Sorry, only have two piskie potions.” She handed Wren a third vial. “This will do you, though.”
Wren took the vial. Jack looked at his uncertainly, then pulled Emily aside so they could talk without being overheard.
“I’m not sure about this, Snow.”
“Neither am I. But we need to track down this Nimue if we want to find Merlin.”
“Maybe your brother was right. Maybe we should look for the Raven King instead.”
Emily frowned. “It’s a bit late to change your mind now, Jack! We agreed that finding Merlin was the best way to stop the fire and get us home. We just have to follow this through to the end.”
Jack sighed. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
Jack took the cork out of his vial and drank the contents. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a ripple spread across his face, like water lapping against a riverbank. Jack tentatively prodded his skin, then a grimace crossed his features and he convulsed, falling to his knees as if in pain. Emily hurried forward to help, but he waved her away.
“’M all right,” he mumbled. He waited a few moments, then pushed himself to his feet again.
What Emily saw made her step back in alarm. It wasn’t Jack who stood before her anymore. His skin had turned dark brown and was covered with fine hair. His eyes were large and black, his ears long and pointed.
And not to mention the fact that he had shrunk as well, to the same height as Corrigan.
The thing was, although to all intents and purposes a piskie now stood before her, Emily could still see Jack in the disguise. The shape of his face, the curve of the mouth, the slant of the eyes—all that was Jack, but his features had been placed on a piskie.
He stared at his hands in amazement, patting down his body. “My clothes …” He looked at Steel, because Emily noticed for the first time that his clothes had shrunk with him so that they still fitted his smaller frame.
“Part of the magic,” she said smugly. She looked over at Beezle. “You won’t find that kind of attention to detail anywhere else.”
“Does it … does it hurt?” Emily asked.
“No. It was just … uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.” There was a gasp from Wren. Emily turned around to find he had already taken his potion. Except that instead of a piskie, he now looked like a goblin. His face was the color of mustard. A long, sharp nose dominated his face, overshadowing his tiny black eyes. He was staring at his hands, turning them this way and that. He looked up at Emily and grinned, showing serrated teeth.
“Amazing,” he said delightedly.
Her turn. Emily pulled the cork out of her bottle, took a deep breath, then swallowed the contents. It tasted sickly sweet, like sugar syrup. Not unpleasant, but not pleasant, either. Emily put the vial down on the table and waited.
She felt it on her face first. A persistent tickling, like ants were crawling across her skin. The feeling grew stronger and stronger, until it no longer felt like an ant, but more like a mouse. Her fingers tingled. Her feet itched. A strange bubbling sound came from her stomach. She burped and lifted a hand to cover her mouth. A hand that no longer looked like her own. It was the same color as tree bark. Her nails were yellow and slightly pointed.
She looked at the others. Jack was staring at her, a half grin playing over his new mouth. “At least it’s made you better looking,” he said.
“Very funny.”
Steel was holding a small mirror out. Emily took it and lifted it to her face. She half knew what to expect after seeing Jack and Wren, but the transformation still took her breath away. It looked like her, but a fey version of herself. The structure of her face was the same, just smaller. Her eyes were much bigger than before, and her nose was tiny, a mere bump. She stuck out her tongue, using it to probe her tiny teeth.
“Right,” said Beezle, smacking his hands together. “That’s me done here. If you’ll just hand over my property, then we can part ways and never have to see each other again. I like the sound of that. Ever again. It has a very permanent ring to it.”
“Actually, we do need one more thing,” Emily said.
Beezle said nothing for a few moments. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled loudly. “Lady Steel,” he said, “could you please give me and my friends some privacy?”
“Of course. Just … don’t break anything.”
Beezle waited till the old fey had left and closed the door behind her. “You’re breaking the deal,” he said. “You wanted a disguise, I got you a disguise.”
“I know. But we need you to get us into the Faerie Tree.”
Beezle shook his head. “No. Can’t be done. I already told you. There’s a reward on my head. If I’m seen down there, my life is over.”
Emily thought about this. “Fine. What about to the market outside the lift?”
Beezle frowned suspiciously at Emily. “What lift?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Stintle.”
“You know about them?”
“I’ve met them. So how about that? You take us to the lift, and we’ll find our own way in.”
Beezle stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. “And then you’ll leave me alone?”
“You’ll never see us again,” said Emily.
“Swear. Swear on your mother or father’s life.”
Emily hesitated, then nodded. “I swear. On my mother’s life.”
“Fine then. Let’s get this finished.”
“Suits me,” said Emily. “But first, I need a blanket.”
“What for?”
“Doesn’t matter. Can you get one from your friend?”
Beezle sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
It took them an hour to reach their destination, and every minute that passed had Emily ruing the fact that they had already drunk the disguise potion instead of keeping it until they were closer to the Faerie Tree.
But what was done was done, she supposed. There was no point in complaining.
Beezle didn’t take them down through any route Emily had already used. Once away from the riverfront, he led them through the city and finally stopped before an abandoned house.
“It’s through here,” he said, entering the garden and following the path to the rear of the building. The others followed after, finding themselves in a wildly overgrown garden.
Creepers and bushes pushed up against the wood of a large rickety shed, weeds and small trees taller than Emily (when she was normal-sized) clogging up the rest of the space.
Beezle led them into a huge patch of bushes, where Emily was rather surprised to find a large metal statue. It was of a man on a horse, and it
was easily over six feet tall. “You should bow,” said Beezle. “This used to be your King.”
Emily looked at the statue, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s Charles I. His statues were destroyed during the civil war, but the Royalists took what they could and hid them. Some of them still lie around London. Forgotten.” He patted the flank of the horse. “Ain’t that right, your Kingship.”
“It’s a liberty, if you ask me,” said the statue.
Emily jumped back, startled. She stared up to find the metal King leaning over his horse, watching her curiously.
“What’s wrong with the piskie?”
“Uh … nothing. Easily scared. That’s all. Can we get in?”
“What’s the password?”
Beezle frowned. “I wasn’t aware there was a password.”
“New rules.”
“Whose new rules?”
“Mine.”
“So how are we supposed to know the password if you haven’t told us?”
“Mmm. Good point. It’s Charles.”
“What?”
“Charles.”
“I know who you are.”
“No. The password is Charles. Wanted to make sure I remembered it, y’see.”
“Ah.” Beezle nodded. “Very wise.” He waited. “So … can we come in?”
“You haven’t said the password yet.”
“Oh. Sorry. Charles.”
“Yes? What can I do for you?”
Beezle opened his mouth to probably say something rude, but the statue cackled with laughter.
“Sorry. Just my little joke. You may enter.”
He flicked the reigns on his horse. It neighed and stepped aside, pulling creepers of ivy and large clumps of grass aside to reveal a dark hole in the ground with a set of wooden stairs leading into the earth. Muttering under his breath, Beezle disappeared through the hole, Emily, Jack, and Wren following quickly after.
Beezle led them through old earthen tunnels and fey-built passages, descending deeper and deeper until Emily found herself back in the huge tunnel with the market outside the Stintles’ little shop.
“And this is where I really say good-bye,” said Beezle. “I’d like to say it’s been fun, and that I’m sad to see you go, but I’m not, so I won’t. Good riddance, and if I ever see you again, I’ll be sure to run in the other direction. Good-bye.” Beezle saluted, turned on his heels, and vanished back into the darkness.