Fairy Haven and the Quest for the Wand

by Gail Carson Levine

  Ree picked up the carrier’s towing cord and proclaimed, “We will be careful. We will be kind. We will be Never fairies at our best.”

  The quest was on.

  F O U R

  THAT NIGHT, while the questers were on the first leg of their journey, Soop sang in the lagoon, a song about vengeance.

  In the Home Tree, fairies were consumed by wand wishes. Dulcie, a baking-talent fairy, dreamed of wanding a new flavor into existence: richer than chocolate, livelier than mint, fruitier than fruit cocktail. Bess, the island’s leading artist, dreamed of brushstrokes like lightning forks and paints as pure as new souls.

  Terence tossed and turned, trying to frame a wish that would lead Tink to care for him, naturally, without forcing her feelings. He flew to the beach, where he stared out over the waves and decided that if he had a wand right then, he’d wish only for her safe return.

  Vidia, shut up in Rani’s empty bedroom, sat utterly still. The door was locked from the other side, and a scout was posted there. The two windows, round as the portholes of a ship, were shuttered. The windows had no locks, but two scouts were stationed outside each one. Vidia tried to ignore the drip-drip-drip from Rani’s ceiling into a tub where Minnie, Rani’s pet minnow, swam. Vidia needed to think.

  Russell, a scout whose right wing had no glow, didn’t wish for completeness. Instead, he wished to be Mother Dove’s favorite out of all the Never fairies.

  His wish woke Mother Dove, who shed a tear for him and then couldn’t fall back to sleep. Instead, she fretted about her own wish. Finally, she indulged herself and imagined waving a wand.

  A moment later, she’d feel movement. She’d raise herself up, ready to descend if she was mistaken. But then she’d hear a faint scratching. She’d move aside and perch next to her darling egg. A thin jagged line would be etched in it. Another line would appear, and another, then a fissure. The hatching would be underway, unstoppable.

  A shudder would run through Never Land. Mother Dove would lose her wisdom and become an ordinary dove. Her molted feathers would no longer make fairy dust. The egg’s magic would be over, too, and so would the magic of the island itself, the magic that kept age away.

  The chick would emerge. Mother Dove’s baby would look like any other dove chick, a fistful of wet straw with big eyes, an outsize beak, and a bewildered expression. So beautiful. So beautiful.

  Mother Dove smiled sadly. The island needed its magic. The fairies needed her. She’d never wave the wand. She settled down to sleep.

  The questers flew on toward the mainland. Their trip took two days, and meanwhile, the floodwaters rose.

  Queen Tutupia was in her castle ballroom leading her entourage in the royal wand ballet. Unnoticed, Ree and Tink fluttered in the doorway, waiting for the dance to end. They had a Never fairy’s notion of manners—no manners at all, by most standards—and they would have flown in anyway. But the Great Wandies kept leaping up unexpectedly, waving their arms and beating their wings. It was safer to wait.

  Ree and Tink had been following Tutupia for hours, having doors slammed in their faces, being drowned out by the Great Wandy orchestra. And the last time, Tutupia had vanished as soon as they’d drawn close. It had taken half an hour to find her again. Both Ree and Tink were conscious that Rani, who was waiting outside the castle, would be wild with worry by now.

  And the flood would be deeper than ever.

  The ballroom was blindingly bright. The floor was white marble. Each of the dozen crystal chandeliers had as many arms as an octopus, and each arm ended in five lights. The walls were mirrors separated by gold columns studded with diamonds.

  Tutupia raised her arms slowly, her golden wand in her right hand. She was seven feet tall, with four-foot-long flowing red hair. With her arms raised, her wings spread, and her hooped skirt she was twice as big as the mill that ground the fairy dust back in Fairy Haven.

  Following her lead, the entourage raised their arms slowly. Tutupia folded her wings and began to pirouette. The entourage folded their wings and pirouetted, too. Faster and faster they spun.

  Tutupia lowered her arms. Her spinning slowed. She sank to the ballroom floor and tucked her head under her wing.

  At last it’s over, Ree thought. She nodded at Tink, and the two flew side by side toward Tutupia.

  Tutupia didn’t see them. She raised her arms again. The entourage raised their arms. Tutupia dropped her arms. A Great Wandy arm conked Ree and Tink on the head, knocking both fairies to the floor.

  Rani paced up and down below the balloon carrier, which was tethered to a tree branch. She couldn’t decide whether to stay put or to set off in search of Ree and Tink, who might need rescuing. But even at a dead run, it could take her days, maybe weeks, to find them.

  In a week they’d be past rescuing.

  In a week Fairy Haven could be at the bottom of a lake.

  She’d never missed her wings so much.

  When the dance of the Great Wanded fairies really ended, the Great Wandies left the ballroom. No one saw Ree or Tink stretched out on the floor, unconscious.

  Ree woke up first. There was her tiara, a few inches away. She put the crown on slightly askew, to avoid a bump on her head, which throbbed painfully. “Tink?”

  Tink lay face down, two feet away.

  “Tink!” Could she be—“Tink!” Ree ran to her and knelt. “Wake up!” She rolled Tink over.

  Tink’s eyes opened. “Are they gone?”

  “Yes. I just woke up, too. I wonder how long we were out.”

  Tink shrugged. “Where do you think they went?”

  Of course Ree didn’t know, although she felt she should. They spent another hour flying through hallways and flitting in and out of rooms before they discovered Tutupia and her entourage in the dining room.

  They flew in, unconcerned about interrupting a meal, and landed between Tutupia’s gold wand and a scallion roll almost as tall as they were.

  Ree began. “Your Royal Highness…”

  Tutupia had just taken in a mouthful of cranberry juice. She sputtered. Ree’s long, blue skirt and Tink’s legs were drenched.

  But at least their wings stayed dry.

  “Fufalla!” Tutupia cried. “No pranks at dinner!”

  Ree shook out her skirt. “I am Queen—”

  “Fufalla! Stop!”

  Tink tugged her bangs. “We’re Never fairies from—”

  Fufalla, the Great Wandy three seats from Tutupia, said, “I didn’t do anything.”

  Ree realized first: Tutupia thought they were a figment of Fufalla’s wand! “I’m a queen! Like you! See my—”

  “Fuff, we’ve gone over this.”

  “I didn’t make them,” Fufalla said, “but I can make them disappear.”

  “We’re real!” Tink shouted. “I can prove it!” How could she prove it?

  Tutupia sighed. “Yes?”

  “We come from Never Land.”

  “This is tiresome, Fuff.”

  “We need your aid,” Ree said. “We’re desperate.”

  “They would say something like that.” Tutupia picked up her wand.

  “Don’t!” Tink flew sideways.

  Ree, who was faster, flew straight up. The wand missed her, but it got Tink, who disappeared.

  F I V E

  REE FLEW above the heads of the Great Wandies, looking for Tink, who had been thinned out to invisibility. She was so sparse, Ree could fly right through her and feel nothing.

  Tink barely noticed Ree. She was too busy trying to pull herself together, trying to become compact enough to be seen again. She’d become almost as interesting as a broken pot. She’d mend herself. She was sure she was making progress.

  Of course, she wasn’t. She was powerless against a wand in the hands of a Great Wandy.

  Ree flew out of the dining hall to check the corridor, in case Tink had escaped. No Tink. How dare Tutupia vaporize a fairy! She flew back in but stayed near the door. “You have no—”

  Tutupia raised
her wand again.

  Ree whooshed out the door, leaving dignity behind. She decided to go to Rani. Maybe Rani would have an idea.

  “Ree!” Rani cried. “What took—Where’s Tink?”

  Ree told her.

  Tink? Gone? Rani was beyond tears. “We have to go to them. Ree, take me.”

  But Ree didn’t want to endanger Rani. “I’ll go.”

  “If you won’t take me, I’ll walk, and someone will step on me, and you’ll have my squished self on your conscience.”

  Ree flew back in with Rani in the balloon carrier and shouted, “How dare—”

  “—you!” Rani yelled. “We’re real! Look at me! I have no wings. See! I’m a fairy without—”

  But it was the balloon carrier that did the trick. The Great Wandies hadn’t seen one of them before, and Tutupia didn’t think Fufalla clever enough to have wanded it up.

  Tutupia said, “Is it possible?”

  “I told you I didn’t do anything,” Fufalla said.

  “Did anyone else?”

  Each fairy shook her head.

  “Oh, dear,” Tutupia said, standing. “I’m sorry. It was a—”

  “Make Tink reappear!” Ree roared.

  “Immediately!” Rani thundered.

  Tutupia waved her wand.

  There was Tink, tugging her bangs. “I was getting it. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Ree brought the balloon carrier down on the tablecloth. The carrier would have been bigger than a Great Wandy serving platter, if there had been any serving platters.

  A Great Wandy said, “They’re so cute!”

  Never fairies hate being called cute. Ree drew herself up to her full five inches and straightened her tiara in spite of the bump on her head. “I’m Queen Clarion.” She didn’t curtsy. Never fairies usually don’t, and she was a queen besides. “You may call me Ree.”

  Tutupia said, “It is an honor to meet you, Queen Ree.”

  Ree answered, as any Never fairy would, “I look forward to flying with you.”

  Someone said, “Look at her little fingers. And her tiny fingernails.”

  Ree put her hands behind her back. She introduced Tink and Rani and named their talents.

  “Fly with you,” Tink said.

  “May we offer you some—”

  “—food? We don’t have time to eat,” Rani said. They hadn’t eaten anything since they’d left Fairy Haven.

  Tutupia ignored Rani’s refusal and raised her wand.

  Tink and Ree zoomed upward. Rani trembled and perspired.

  A Never-fairy-sized table appeared atop the gigantic one. Three place settings materialized, and three silver chairs drew themselves up to the table.

  “What can we serve you?” Tutupia asked.

  Perhaps Tutupia was a little deaf. Ree raised her voice. “We have no time for food. We have—”

  Tutupia continued, “The hospitality of the Great Wanded fairies is legendary. What can we serve you?”

  Ree gave up. “A cashew loaf. A dozen grains of purple rice, if you have it. Three roast peas. And a sliced raspberry for dessert.”

  “Ooo!” fifty fairies squealed delightedly.

  “Adorable!” Tutupia said.

  “And water,” Rani added.

  Tutupia waved her wand. The meal appeared on the table.

  Tink was stunned. They didn’t cook! They had no pots and pans! She looked around the big table. Each place setting was different, and each meal was different. Fifty wands had been waved to produce fifty dinners. At the end of the meal, fifty wands would make everything vanish. No dishes or pots to wash. No leftovers.

  The Great Wandies have no meaning in their lives, Tink thought. They never have to fix a pot. They never have to do anything.

  A pitcher set itself down on the table. Goblets arrived, too. Before Tink could pick up the pitcher, it rose in the air and poured boysenberry juice into the goblets.

  “How nice.” Rani hated boysenberry juice.

  They began to eat, although they felt awkward with all those enormous eyes scrutinizing every chew. They hurried through the meal. Even Tink hurried, although she usually chewed every bite twenty times.

  When she finished, Rani mopped her face with her napkin.

  Ree put down her fork and stood. “Your Highness—”

  Tutupia held up her hand. “Now you must rest, Your Majesty. We won’t discuss anything until you’ve had a good sleep.”

  “Your journey must have been exhausting,” Fufalla said. “How long was—”

  “—it? Two days, but—”

  “Two days!” Tutupia said. She’d never flown for even two hours. When she left the castle, her wand took her wherever she wanted to go. “You certainly must rest.”

  “Yes, we must,” Tink agreed. She added cleverly, “But since we’re so small, we need little sleep.”

  A Great Wandy said, “They’re precious!”

  “We generally sleep for eight minutes,” Ree said, “which last us a whole—”

  “—day. We can sleep while you eat dessert.”

  More than eight minutes passed before the Great Wandies wanded up beds in a corner of the dining room. First they debated the colors of the canopies on the four-posters (mauve, chartreuse, and daffodil), the number of pillows (three per bed), and the sort of feathers in the pillows (hummingbird).

  At last, the questers climbed in, intending to feign sleep. Ree removed her tiara and fell into a dreamless slumber, while Rani plunged into a nightmare of angry purple mermaids in a boysenberry ocean.

  Luckily, Tink stayed awake, doggedly counting to sixty eight times over. When she finished, she sat up and stretched in case the Great Wandies were watching, which they were, avidly.

  Ree was snoring, and Rani’s head was buried in her pillow. Tink woke them. A Great Wandy lifted Rani onto the table. Ree and Tink flew to stand next to her.

  Tutupia said, “You have come a long way for an important reason, I’m sure. How may we help you?”

  Ree felt ridiculous for being nervous. She was a queen! “We…We…” She took a deep breath. “Er, we must have a wand.”

  Fifty fairies laughed.

  S I X

  TUTUPIA SAID, “I thought Never fairies had enchanted dirt. Why—”

  “Dust, not dirt!” Ree said. “Fairy—”

  “—dust. We don’t need the wand for ourselves. We need it for a mermaid named Soop.”

  “‘Soup’?” Tutupia chuckled. “Why not ‘Sandwich’?”

  “We only call her Soop,” Rani said, feeling indignant. “Her Mermish name is much longer and more beautiful.”

  Peter Pan had dubbed her Soop, and the fairies had adopted it, too.

  “Why does she need a—”

  “—wand?” Rani explained that the wand had been promised in exchange for help saving Mother Dove and Never Land’s magic.

  Ree said, “Soop has begun to flood Fairy Haven. She won’t stop until she gets her wand.”

  Fufalla said, “I can settle Soop.”

  “No!” Rani cried.

  “We must keep our promise,” Ree said.

  “Soop won’t be able to control one of our wands,” Tutupia said. “You won’t be able to, either. Sometimes we can barely control them. They’re frisky. They can be mischievous.”

  Ree thought Tutupia had no idea what a Never fairy was capable of.

  “A wild wand could do anything,” Fufalla said. “Flooding might be the least of it.”

  “Our wands aren’t evil,” Tutupia added, “but some are better than others. Some aren’t nice, especially if they have a small heart and an impish mind.”

  Fascinating! Tink thought. Pots had personalities, too.

  Tutupia continued, “Occasionally, the wands simply don’t understand us. If a wand turns you upside down, it doesn’t know you don’t like being that way. If you struggle, it thinks you’re playing with it.”

  Ree thought, We’ll have to go to the Lesser Wandies.

  “The Lesse
r Wandies’ wands are worse than ours,” Fufalla said. “Theirs have absolutely no sense of decorum, and they all have small hearts and mean minds.”

  Tink wondered if they could find a wand somewhere else.

  Tutupia said, “We can stop your flood. We can make Fairy Haven bone dry.”

  Fufalla said, “We can make Soop forget she was ever promised anything. We can turn your mermaids into whales.”

  “It would be fun,” Tutupia said. “We can—”

  “No!” Rani cried.

  “Don’t trouble yourselves,” Ree added.

  “No trouble,” Fufalla said. “We simply wave our wands.”

  Tink said, “Do you have any wands that are too old to be frisky?”

  “No…” Tutupia looked thoughtful. “But perhaps we could put a wand to sleep.”

  “Will it work if it’s asleep?” Rani asked.

  “It’s a wand!” Fufalla said. “It makes magic, even in its sleep.”

  “Asleep,” Tutupia said, “it will do exactly as it’s told.”

  “Wonderful!” Ree said. “Perfect. May we have one?”

  “The generosity of the Great Wanded fairies is legendary.” Tutupia held out her hand, palm up. “Come, Never fairies. You can pick your wand.”

  Rani climbed onto Tutupia’s cushiony palm.

  “You, too,” Tutupia told Tink and Ree. “It will be faster.” She flew them out of the dining room. As they glided through the corridors, she said, “You will use the wand before you give it to Soop. You won’t be able to resist.”

  This irritated Tink. She could resist, if she wanted to. “Use caution with your wishes. Tell your mermaid to use caution, too.” Tutupia brought the three fairies up to her face as she flew. Her expression was solemn. “Wand madness can overcome you. The temptation to wave a wand and get the things you’ve always wanted, the things you couldn’t achieve any other way, is hard to withstand. It happens to us, too.”

  The fairies heard plink-plinks.

  “Listen to the wands wriggle and ring,” Tutupia said. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  She flew toward double doors that opened as she approached. Within, wands in trays squirmed on a round mahogany table. Some wands were gold, some silver, some copper, some brass, some pewter.