Spies Among Us

by L. L. Bower

  When she reaches us, she bows. “I’m Silvermist, daughter of Moonglow, and the king’s personal assistant.” Silver glitter adorns her pale skin, her ornate robe and her long gray hair. She’s more than a foot tall, taller than most fairies I’ve met. Rainbow-colored wings flutter in a blur behind her back. Her face is youthful, and her dark eyes sparkle between a pair of pointed ears.

  Crisa introduces me first and then Charles.

  The fairy extends her hand palm down. I look quizzically at Crisa because we didn’t discuss the proper protocol for meeting the king’s assistant. Do I bow to her? Do I loosely grasp her fingers, or do I kiss her hand?

  Crisa’s mind reading saves me. “Greet her as you did me that first day.” Then she adds, “Silvermist is addressed as Your Ladyship.” In England a “lady,” the wife of a lord, is considered part of the aristocracy, and, even though this isn’t England, fairies must gain some kind of noble status when they work for the king.

  Silvermist hovers at eye level, so I don’t have to bend over much to kiss her tiny hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Ladyship.” Charles follows my lead.

  “We’re so excited to have you here, Sir Calen, and your fine bodyguard, Charles. And Crisa it’s so nice to see you again. We’ve missed your visits here.”

  Crisa gives a slight bow. “I’ve missed them too and hope I can visit more in the future.”

  Silvermist smiles. “Busy fighting darkness, I presume.”

  “Always.”

  The fairy turns to me. “And Sir Calen, we’ve heard so many glowing reports about you. The king is anxious for you to regale him with tales of your adventures. He doesn’t get out of the palace much.”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  She raises a finger. “But first, you must refresh yourselves. I heard you had a long and difficult journey.”

  I smile. “You could say that. Just about the time I think I’ve met all the dark creatures in Fairyland, I manage to run into more.”

  “At least you don’t have to worry about them here in Craghollow.” Silvermist flashes a dazzling white smile. “Let me take you to your quarters where a bath and food await.”

  Charles says, “That sounds wonderful.” When the fairy isn’t looking, I catch him sniffing his armpit and wrinkling his nose.

  Silvermist flits toward the palace entrance, and we follow. The entrance is at least ten feet high, so I don’t have to bend over. I’m grateful, as I was starting to get a crick in my neck.

  After we pass over the drawbridge, Silvermist walks over to a wall and pushes one of the stones, which raises the bridge behind us.

  She then leads us into the impressively sized castle courtyard. It’s fifty feet long and just as wide, with trees, topiaries and potted colorful flowers expertly positioned throughout. Gold and silver royal roses, like the ones the gnomes planted in my backyard, are strategically placed at several entry points around the courtyard. These roses can shoot poisonous metal thorns at invading enemies.

  In the courtyard’s center is a tall statue of a fairy carrying a water bucket, out of which pours fresh water.

  Birds flit around the foliage, including hummingbirds. They must have access to the mountain too. And I’m sure the king has his own charm of hummingbird messengers.

  We cross the courtyard, bounded on three sides by a fifteen-foot stone wall with turrets in its corners and a wide parapet running its length. The fourth side is taken up by the imposing three-story castle facade. At least a dozen guards walk back and forth across the wall’s walkway, and archers take up positions in the turrets, which are open at shooting height to the courtyard , giving them three-sixty vantage points.

  “Why the need for so many guards?” I ask Silvermist. “I can’t believe anyone could break in here.”

  “That’s what you’d think, but, about a century ago, a small rampage of gryphons managed to fly through the mountainside opening you entered, before we could close the doors. They wreaked havoc on the village and the palace. Since then, we’ve made it a policy to post a full complement of guards at all times.

  “A secret back entrance enables our people to escape if they need to. Of course, it’s fairy-sized, but birds, snakes or other small nasties could also enter there.”

  That explains how the birds got in.

  Silvermist pulls a cord, and one of the massive wooden front doors creaks open. We follow Silvermist into the foyer, which smells fresh, like the forest after the rain. Here the ceilings are high, although I can’t sit on the scattered and miniscule couches set around equally small tables. Fresh flowers adorn the tables, and the walls are covered with painted murals of fairy scenes—fairies in battle, fairies planting gardens, fairies making music.

  I comment, “Those paintings are beautiful.”

  The silver fairy smiles. “Our own artists designed them. They took about ten years to complete.”

  “Amazing.”

  Crisa’s been quiet during our tour, but then I remember she’s been here before. None of this is new to her.

  We cross the foyer and climb a curving stone staircase, wide enough for a single human. The carved wooden railing has leaf and flower designs. On the non-railing side are tall, narrow sidelight windows along the stairs that must open onto the courtyard. At the top of this staircase is a long hallway with a large window at its end and doors that open, left and right along its length.

  Silvermist opens the first door on the right. “Calen, this will be yours, and Charles, your room is the next one, which adjoins, so that you can fulfill your guardian duties during your stay.”

  “Thank you.” Charles bows.

  “Yes, thank you,” I echo.

  “No need for thanks. We would be remiss if we didn’t provide such an arrangement. We’ve also had our seamstresses make you each a clean robe in which to meet the king. You will have a servant to care for your needs, and they’ve set out plates of fresh fruits and nuts for your enjoyment. No meat, I’m afraid. We’re vegetarians.”

  Charles sighs.

  “Crisa, your dwelling is two doors down from Calen’s. I hope you’ll be pleased with our efforts to make your stay as pleasant as possible.”

  “We are blessed by your hospitality,” Crisa assures and bows. I think that’s an odd way to say thank you, but it must be the expected response because Silvermist smiles and bows her head.

  Charles and Crisa head for their rooms, and I step into mine through a thick oak doorway that tall enough for me to enter without ducking. Inside, I find a bright oasis of green and yellow. A large four-poster bed is covered by a green bedspread with dozens of real leaves woven into it. The green color makes me instantly relax.

  A sunny stained-glass window depicts trees, flowers and fairies that project many colors and shapes onto the bed and the stone floor. A plate of fruits and nuts and a pitcher of water are on the dresser, along with yellow daisies and white carnations in a vase. A woven rug on the floor declares, “Never Lose Hope, the Creator is Working.” The letters are surrounded by yellow flowers with bees hovering over them.

  The bed calls to me almost as urgently as the siren did. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep for the past two nights, and what little sleep I did get was filled with anxiety. However, I need to get ready to meet the king.

  I open a closed door on the other side of the bedroom and find a bathroom, its mirror steamed from the hot bath that awaits me. I drop my swords, remove my filthy clothes and undo the gauze bandage on my leg, which reveals a healed, uninfected gremlin bite. I ease my way into the delightfully warm water, my sore muscles thanking me. Weariness overtakes me, and I struggle to keep my eyes open.

  I soak for a while before I scrub my skin and dunk my shampooed hair in the bathwater for a rinse. Sometimes the little things in life bring the most pleasure. Washing away the mud and sweat from our long journey has boosted my spirits and given me the confidence to meet the king.

  I pull the plug on the tub and dry myself with a woven towel that’
s unlike any human towel. It’s made from different types of lush ferns, and I’m surprised at its softness and smell, like a fresh forest. It dries me in seconds. I wrap the towel around my waist and wonder where that robe is that Silvermist mentioned.

  I pad barefoot out of the bathroom and am startled to see another long-robed fairy standing on a table. I’m self-conscious and wrap my towel tighter, hoping its leaf construction can take the stress.

  “Good morning, Master Calen, son of Mortimer.” The long-robed fairy bows. “I am Teasel, son of Orin, your personal attendant during your stay at Craghollow.” Shorter than Silvermist, Teasel looks like every other non-royal fairy I’ve met, with large dark eyes and iridescent, rainbow-colored wings, except for his plain robe and woven grass bands on each arm. Do these bands signify his servanthood?

  I walk over and extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, Teasel.” He places his tiny hand in mine, and we shake. “I was going to look for that robe Silvermist mentioned that the fairies made for my visit to the king.”

  Teasel flits over to the closet and opens the door. Hanging there is a white robe made of an airy, lightweight fabric. Teasel removes it from a hook and brings it to me. Holding it up to the light with one hand, the other hand still holding my towel, I discover that, despite its translucent appearance, the material is opaque.

  Teasel helps me pull it over my head and slip my arms through the sleeves before my towel slips to the floor. Being a modest kind of man, I’m grateful for the timing of the towel drop. The robe is long enough for me, not fairy length. I tie an attached woven belt made of green vines around it. Fairies must not wear underwear.

  “Do I look all right to approach the king?” I wonder if I’m dressed formally enough in this robe, something I’d wear only in the privacy of my home.

  Teasel looks me up and down. “You need some shoes. Please enjoy your repast, while I take your clothing to be cleaned. I’ll return with something for your feet. Do you know your shoe size?”

  “I take a human size ten,” I say as I pop a cherry in my mouth from the provided plate of goodies.

  “I’ll let our cobblers know.” With both hands, Teasel picks up my very dirty clothing from the floor, holding it out away from his body. He has to flap his wings more strenuously to stay airborne with the added weight. “I’ll have to get those dirty boots of yours in another trip. And your clothes need mending.”

  “Some of that is from a gryphon attack, while I was rappelling down a cliff.”

  His eyes enlarge, startling on a fairy whose eyes are already so big. “I hope you’ll tell me more about that.”

  I grab a strawberry. “I’d be happy to. How long do I have before I meet with the king?”

  “Not long. Silvermist will come get you when it’s time. Your shoes should be ready by then.”

  “That fast?” I’m amazed. In my world, it would take at least six weeks to get a pair of shoes custom made.

  He smiles. “Our cobblers can construct several pairs in an hour.” He heads for the door, my clothes still held in front of him. As he leaves, he turns back, bows and adds, “That bell on your night table will summon me if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to use it.” He says, “Open Sesame” to the heavy door, and it swings open.

  I sit down in a chair to eat some more fruit. Through a clear section of window, I can see that my room overlooks the castle courtyard. I wonder what I’d see from the rooms on the other side of the hall.

  After I eat a couple of more cherries and some filberts, I look longingly at the bed. I’ve asked way more of my body in the last few days than I have in a long time and on less sleep than I’m used to. I’m so tired I don’t even pull back the covers but lay my head on a soft feather pillow. The minute I close my eyes, I’m asleep.

  I feel like I’ve just closed my eyes when Teasel gently taps my shoulder. “I’ve brought your shoes, Master Calen. Silvermist will be here shortly. I thought you might like me to brush your hair, give you a shave and manicure your nails before she arrives.” I open my eyes and look my hands.

  Several nails are broken, and, despite the bath, dirt still clings around my cuticles.

  “I guess so.” I’ve never had a manicure before and having a guy work on my nails seems weird. But he’s right. My nails need attention, as do my hair and beard.

  I sit up to see a pair of sandals on the floor beside the bed. Across the top of each shoe are two white bands trimmed in gold. I slide my feet into them, and they fit like they were custom-made, which, of course, they were.

  “Do the shoes meet with your approval?” Teasel asks, as he flits around my head.

  “Th—.” I start to express my appreciation and then remember Crisa’s response to Silvermist’s attentions. “I’m blessed by your thoughtfulness.” I bow.

  Teasel bows and smiles. “Let’s get those nails and your hair and face looking groomed.” Teasel motions to the chair next to the end table by my bed for me to sit.

  In several flit-filled trips, the fairy pulls a straight razor, two small jars and a hairbrush out from the top drawer of the dresser. He darts from one side of my head to the other, humming as he works. One of the jars contains some kind of lotion he uses as shaving lather for my face, the scent reminding me of that meadow we crossed. I lean my head back, so he can see my face and neck better. His shaving movements are gentle and quick.

  Then he brushes my hair and uses some kind of citrus-scented pomade from another small jar to help it lie down. I don’t have a mirror close by, but I’d guess that napping with wet hair did strange things to it. We talk while he works on my hair.

  “So tell me about this gryphon attack.”

  I tell him how it attacked me, how I was hanging by one hand, so I could wield my sword with the other.

  When I finish, he comments, “That’s amazing. Praise the Creator for keeping you safe.”

  After Teasel finishes with my hair and face, he asks, “Can you place your hand on the table?” He goes into the bathroom and brings out a human-size bowl filled with human-size nail supplies. He sets a cuticle stick, nail brush, file and clippers on the table next to my hand. Then he goes back to the bathroom with the bowl. The sound of running water follows.

  “Do you want to hear about the trolls too?” I raise my voice over the running water.

  “Oh, my, yes.” Teasel grins as he emerges from the bathroom and flits a little faster. Then he settles himself and the filled bowl on the table where my hand is resting.

  With my hand positioned so, Teasel can sit next to it to work on my fingernails, rather than having to flit around. He places my right hand in the water bowl to which foamy soap has been added and, while it soaks, he uses the rest of the tools to fix the damage on the nails of my left hand.

  While he makes my nails presentable, I tell him about the troll attack. How, with the Creator’s help, I initiated sunlight that turned the trolls to stone. When he finishes filing the nails and cutting the cuticle, he removes my right hand from the soapy bowl and places my left hand in the water. He repeats the clean-up process with my right hand.

  I then tell him about the gremlins. With I’ve finished that tale and my nails clean and smooth, Teasel flits up to eye level, saying, “Those are remarkable stories.” He puts a hand over his heart. “You’ve blessed me and made my morning so interesting, Master Calen. You are a powerful champion, and the Creator has chosen well.”

  Teasel then invites me to look in the bathroom mirror. He flits around me as I check myself from all sides.

  I nod my approval. “Good job, Teasel. I look well-groomed and suitable for an audience with the king. I am blessed by your work.” He grins.

  Someone knocks on my door. Teasel flies out the bathroom door and repeats “Open Sesame.” As I emerge from the bathroom, I find Silvermist standing in the entryway. She asks, “Are you ready to meet His Highness?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “You need to bring your swords with you,” Silvermist reminds me.


  I take a moment to pick up my swords from the bathroom floor and strap them on, then step out into the hallway and notice that neither Crisa nor Charles is waiting there. “Where are my friends?”

  “Your audience with the king is private,” Silvermist informs me. “What he has to say is for your ears only. Not even his guards will be present.”

  I go from being relaxed and refreshed to now feeling nervous. Sweat trickles down my back under my robe, and my heart thumps. I’d counted on Crisa being there to make sure I didn’t commit any serious faux pas and to bolster my confidence.

  I follow Silvermist down the stairs and through such a long series of twists and turns that I’m certain I’ll never find my way back to my room again, alone. Maybe that’s intentional.

  She pulls open a huge squeaking pair of gold- and pearl-trimmed wooden doors, intricately carved in vine and leaf designs, first one door and then the other, and I find myself on the threshold to the king’s throne room.

  Chapter 32 – Fit for a King

  I thought the king would make a dramatic entrance, but instead he sits on a four-foot throne, head bowed. I wonder if he’s sleeping, thinking or praying. He looks bigger, both in terms of height and girth, than the other fairies I’ve seen and takes up half the height of his throne. Maybe the royal line consists of giants by fairy standards. His son wasn’t that big, but he might not have been full grown.

  The gilt-edged throne is upholstered in red with a golden fairy statue on each side, sword in hand. The blades are crossed over the throne’s crest.

  I try to keep my heart beating at a normal pace and take deep breaths to control my nerves.

  Silvermist says, “Go on in.”

  I move forward, just beyond the doorway, and she closes the creaky doors behind me. I approach the throne, drop to one knee in my long robe, draw Noblesse and place her upright in front of me, as Crisa told me I should, while Nobliege hangs at a funny angle at my side. I hold my other arm straight down at my waist, fingers pointed to the ground, and keep my eyes on the floor.