“Stop,” said the Fairy Queen.
—and stopped halfway, his muscles trembling with the effort of ceasing his momentum.
“You can’t do that! I’m holding iron!”
“You,” replied the Fairy Queen, “are holding wood attached to iron.” She raised one delicate forefinger and touched it to his forehead.
The Jolly Executioner fell down dead.
The Fairy Queen looked down at the Jolly Executioner for one long moment, then flicked a hand, at once dismissing his presence and calling a guard to remove the unsightly body.
The Fairy Queen turned to the rest of the company. They stared at her. Fastest on the uptake, Letitia knelt to the floor, bowing her head and supplicating her hands. Dubiously, the others followed. “Your Majesty,” said Letitia, who had plenty of practice with this sort of abasement, “none of us have brought iron into your kingdom. We were bound to that man there, and had no choice but to follow him. But you have freed us, and we are bound to him no longer. For this, we offer you our services.”
“I have already accepted them,” said the Fairy Queen with a strange smile. “Have you not noticed my generous gifts? Have you not looked upon each other and upon yourselves? So long as I have your faithfulness and unwavering obedience, you will remain fair beyond the ken of man.”
“Your generosity is beyond all limits, Your Majesty!” cried Letitia.
“Not beyond all limits, no,” said she. “Up to the limits of faithfulness and absolute obedience, and no further. It shall fail, if you disobey me.”
“We shall never disobey you!”
“Good,” said the Fairy Queen.
“Are you going to kill us?” Youngster asked, finding his voice. Stephen wished he hadn’t; the Fairy Queen didn’t need to be reminded of the possibility—and worse, might be offended.
“I might,” replied the Fairy Queen, sounding more pleased than otherwise, “when I tire of you. But I find humans are terribly short-lived; you shall most likely wither and die of old age or walk where you shouldn’t and become food for my pets.”
“Your pets?” Youngster quavered.
“No more questions,” snapped the Fairy Queen. “Get out—I have seen enough of you today! No, wait a moment; first drink of this.” She pulled a golden goblet out of thin air with a sound like silver clinking and the smell of tears.
Never eat or drink anything fairies give you, thought Stephen. It gives them power over you.
But he didn’t see how he had any choice.
And if the Fairy Queen’s words were true, it was too late already.
Letitia took the goblet and drank swiftly from it, then passed it to Youngster who drank and passed it to Stephen.
The liquid inside the goblet was thick and golden and smelled of honeysuckle and snow. It did not look poisonous, only intensely magical.
Stephen suddenly remembered the silver and iron manacles in his robes, hidden by layers of enchantments. Letitia had lied, he realized. There was iron in the company. Iron that, if he touched it while drinking from the goblet—no; it was impossible; the Fairy Queen would see and touch his forehead and he would die as the Jolly Executioner had.
Here goes.
Stephen drank, and the golden liquid tasted of nothing at all.
He didn’t feel any different. Had something changed within him? How had the magic changed him? Surely it must have done something.
He handed the goblet to Craggy who sniffed it, but did not drink.
“Is there something the matter, human?” the Fairy Queen demanded. “Would you refuse this golden goblet of nectar and die as your leader did?”
“This isn’t nectar,” said Craggy; “it’s dirty water. And your goblet is wooden.”
“Be quiet, Craggy,” Letitia hissed. “Don’t insult her! Drink from the goblet!”
“It isn’t water,” Stephen added in an undertone. “It doesn’t taste like water, or like anything at all.”
“It won’t hurt you,” Youngster added, nervously glancing at the Fairy Queen. “Please drink it, or you’ll get us all into trouble.”
Craggy wrinkled his nose and took a sip. His face contorted as he forced himself to swallow. Then he retched, unable to keep down the fairy drink.
“What’s wrong with you?” Letitia demanded. “Drink it properly or I’ll shove it down your throat!”
“No,” said the Fairy Queen, “you won’t.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean any insult—”
“You will be silent and not attempt explanation. You will not force him to drink because I say you will not. I have another purpose for him.” Without any apparent signal, two more fairies came forward. They hauled Craggy to his feet and dragged him from the room. Craggy didn’t attempt to walk on his own; he was still dry heaving and convulsing and looking utterly wretched.
The Fairy Queen nodded to the other three. “You have been good,” she said, as if they were dogs who had just performed a particularly clever trick. “You may go now—no, not you, Enchanter.”
Stephen hesitated. “Yes?”
“Look at me.”
Stephen looked up into her eyes. They were so bright and green and alien. They frightened him and yet—yet they were beautiful, too. They weren’t inhuman, as he had initially thought; they were superhuman. He knew that he was ugly, hideous, a disgusting worm next to the Fairy Queen. No matter how handsome he thought himself, he would always be human, and that made all the difference.
The Fairy Queen was beautiful—was truly beautiful. Surely, beauty like that deserved unswerving service. The Fairy Queen was the most beautiful, perfect creature in the world; he could not deny it. He swore to himself, and to the Fairy Queen, that he would never disobey her, never let any of the others disobey her, never disappoint her in any way. He would slay his companions, or himself, or anyone else, for her sake.
I am bedazzled, he thought, and was glad.
“Tell me, Enchanter, about your friend—the one whom you call Craggy.”
“Absolutely,” Stephen said readily. “Anything you want to know—everything I know—is at your service.”
“Your friend,” said she, “sees things differently than the rest of you.”
“He certainly does! Do you know, he thought we were in Faerie long before we actually were—before we had crossed the wall? And he doesn’t have any eye for beauty—for the landscape or your gift. I don’t think his eyes are weak—although I could be wrong—it’s his mind that is wrong. Personally, I blame Chubblewooble. Oh, right, that’s a town where—”
“I know of Chubblewooble.”
“Of course you do; of course—you have one of your fairy spies there, don’t you? That explains why she wasn’t gathered outside the inn with the others . . . and why she wouldn’t want to be seen in public, because she doesn’t wear iron. I wondered at the time, but not much. I mean, she’s a very good spy, I’m sure. But—oh, Craggy (right, you wanted to know about Craggy)—he went crazy that night, along with the rest of them. Kept hitting his head against the wall. Got a terrible concussion—and ‘permanent brain damage,’ Medic says—said—whatever that means—”
“That is enough.”
Stephen halted his eager words midsentence and waited on the tips of his toes, hoping for his next instruction.
“You have been helpful, Enchanter,” said the Fairy Queen, and Stephen practically melted at the praise. Oh, great joy! “Leave me. Go and join your friends. Warn them not to leave Faerie, or the Blue Lady shall be sent to deal with you.”
“I could never leave you, my queen!” cried Stephen. “I can hardly bear the thought of being in a room where you are not! But I shall sacrifice even myself, at my queen’s command!” He bowed and scraped and bowed some more, retreating backward to the door and—painfully and regretfully—out.
“What did she want?” Youngster asked him. “Did you discover where she took Craggy?”
“You didn’t betray us?” Letitia said sharply. “I don’t know about you
two, but I intend to survive this place—even if it’s at your expense.”
“Charming girl,” Youngster muttered. “I suppose you’ve given some thought to escaping?”
“Escaping! You don’t mean leave Faerie!”
“I most certainly do! What else? The Jolly Executioner is dead, his mission unfulfilled. We’re useless here, and in danger. We need to get back to Locklost to warn the king—and to tell him the fate of his youngest son.”
“We’re not leaving Faerie,” said Stephen.
“Look, I know the king isn’t that fond of enchanters—or of magic-users in general—but you’ve worked faithfully for the J.E., and the king’ll be fair. I mean, he employs enchanters and battle-wizards of his own . . . maybe he’d employ you, too! I bet it would pay well, and then you won’t have to travel around. Imagine it: steady meals—”
“We are residents of Faerie, not Locklost,” said Stephen, “and you are speaking treason. If you do not cease immediately, I shall return to our great queen—may she reign forever—and inform her.
“Have you gone mad? Since when were you so fond of fairies?”
Letitia barked a laugh. “Look at him!” she crowed. “Look at his eyes—he’s been bedazzled! Hoisted on his own petard!”
“You’re right that I’ve been bedazzled,” Stephen admitted cheerfully, “and I fully intend to remain that way. Now, what do you say we find a guide and do some exploring? Personally, I’m starving; I haven’t had a decent meal since . . . since we were in Robin’s Woods.”
“For once,” said Letitia, “the enchanter talks sense. We won’t do any good starving ourselves.”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” said Youngster, “since we’ve already consumed that liquid; I’d bet that counts as fairy food, and once we’ve started, why stop?”
“It certainly was wonderful stuff,” Stephen sighed. “But then, I wouldn’t expect anything less from the indomitably hospitable Fairy Queen.”
Stephen wandered in a daze. Some part of him knew that the other two were with him, but he didn’t care. He knew everything around him was exceedingly beautiful, but he hardly gave it a second glance. His mind was filled with the glory of the Fairy Queen.
Sometime later, when the image of the Fairy Queen in his mind had dulled enough for him to see past it, Stephen found himself sitting with Youngster and a strange fairy.
“Where’s Letitia?” he asked.
“Welcome back,” said Youngster. “I knew you wouldn’t be gone for good.”
“Gone? Nonsense! I was deep in thought. I am an enchanter, you know. But Letitia, it seems, is gone. Where is she?”
Youngster shrugged. “I don’t think she’s interested in being a member of this company anymore,” he said.
“What company?” Stephen replied. “There is no company anymore. There are only four of us, and we were only a company so long as we were under the power of the Jolly Executioner and his most detestable kingdom.”
“Yes, but not all of us were forced in. Put it this way: Letitia’s not interested in being friends with us anymore, or with spending any time around us. I think she returned to her rooms to admire herself in the mirror. I never knew she was so vain—or maybe I did, but I never saw it demonstrated so clearly before.”
“She has reason to be vain,” said Stephen, “thanks to the Fairy Queen’s gift. Apart from that, she has no reason. Apart from that, there can be no reason.”
“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear you say that,” Youngster replied wryly. He turned to the fairy on his left. “Is he going to be like this forever? He’s so . . . wet and floppy. Why does the bedazzlement affect him? I thought enchanters were immune.”
“No one has ever broken one of the Fairy Queen’s bedazzlements,” said the fairy. “She is far too strong. To break the bedazzlement, one would need to know her true name—and the Fairy Queen has none.”
“That’s not quite true,” said Stephen, thinking of the manacles. “I know another way to break the bedazzlement. I could break it now, if I wanted to; it’d be easy.”
“What are you waiting for?”
Stephen gave Youngster a long, disapproving look. “I would never do such a thing,” he said. “I would never do anything that might disappoint Her Majesty or cause myself to lose perspective of her greatness. I think back on how I was before and shudder.”
“You were better then than you are now! You never used to fall in line without a fight and let your mind be overridden—”
“Maybe,” said Stephen, “I’ve finally found someone worth obeying, someone for whom I want to fall in line. What a fool I was before!”
“Right,” said Youngster, turning to the fairy. “Save me from this insipidity, Snork. Change the subject. I don’t think I can bear to hear another word about your darling queen.
“Moderate your tongue!” snapped Stephen, “or I shall have to report you, friend though you are!”
Youngster sighed.
XVIII
Would you like to try some fairy fruit?
How long they had spent in Faerie, Stephen did not know. It sometimes seemed to him that they had arrived only that day, or the day before, or last week at the very earliest. Other times, it seemed that they had lived there for months or years or forever. Day passed into night into day only at the Fairy Queen’s whim, and there were no distinct meals by which to mark the time; there was only one continuous feast that any might attend at any time, and fill themselves on peacocks and oysters and strange fruits and sweet cakes and all the delicacies for which rich men long. Stephen ate frequently and greedily of all these foods, but Youngster hardly touched them. When Stephen challenged him, he said their richness hurt his stomach.
Of only two occurrences was Stephen certain: first, that the Fairy Queen several times called him to private conferences, wherein she asked him a multitude of questions to which he gave a multitude of answers, none of which he later remembered; second, that he and Youngster were often joined by the fairy who called himself Snork. Of their many talks, only one is of great enough importance to be recorded here.
“Have you heard what the Blue Lady does to her victims?” Snork asked. They were walking along tree-canopied paths outside the Fairy Queen’s palace. Youngster had been laughing at Stephen’s assertion that he’d better watch out and stay on the Fairy Queen’s good side and forget his treacherous ways, or the Blue Lady would be sent to hunt him down.
“What does it matter?” said Stephen. “All monsters do the same thing: kill you and eat you. That’s practically the definition of a monster—and why should the Blue Lady be any different? I’m sure the Fairy Queen would know.”
“I’m sure she would,” Youngster agreed grimly. “Go on, Snork—tell us. I might as well learn the worst now.”
Snork bared his teeth unpleasantly. The teeth themselves were perfectly white and even and straight, and his face was startlingly handsome, but the overall effect was deeply unpleasant. “The Blue Lady,” he said, “is a picky eater. She demands exactly the right meal at exactly the right time, and that her food is always fresh and juicy and not long dead. Thus when she ventures out of her caves to capture fresh prey—usually human, but sometimes animal or fairy, for she has no fear—she captures it alive.
“The Blue Lady’s magic is powerful, especially when it comes to transmogrification. So it is that when she catches her prey, she transforms it into something small and harmless—a squirrel or mouse or bat—which can fit in one of her little cages. She has thousands of cages, each enchanted to be indestructible. It is said that in her caves—and she has many, scattered throughout the entire world—she keeps these transformed animals until they whet her appetite.
“When the Blue Lady is hungry, she takes down a cage and sets it on a special table. Leaving the indestructibility of the cage intact, she removes the transmogrification magic upon the animal, so that it returns to its natural size and shape in an instant.”
He paused to let them think on this.
>
“I don’t get it,” said Youngster. “I mean, that’s horrible, but it’s not particularly horrible.”
“Youngster,” Stephen said patiently, “she returns her victims to full size while they’re still inside small, indestructible cages.”
Youngster thought about this some more, and went slightly green. “Ah,” he said at last. “Gross.”
“She likes her meat fresh,” said Snork, delighted at Youngster’s reaction. “This way, the food has been dead barely a moment when she eats it, and it’s already cut into nice, easy strips on which she can chew. Very efficient, if you ask me. The Blue Lady is immensely clever about all sorts of things. I know I certainly wouldn’t want to cross her. The Fairy Queen’s the only one she’s afraid of, you see, and the Fairy Queen never saves anyone.”
The Monsters of Stephen Enchanter Page 26