“Finished it this spring. I call her the Muscadine.” Tom caught Peter’s angry glare and fiddled with the pliers in his hand. “Sorry about the kids,” he said, nodding at Selden and the others. “I didn’t know they’d hitched a ride till after we landed. Should’ve known we were carrying extra weight when we left Avhalon.”
Lug rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t be mad at Tom. I did a Likeness of one of the sandbags.”
“I got here on my own, thank you kindly,” said Dree, Changing into a butterfly with one graceful swoop of her arms.
Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose impatiently. It looked like steam might start coming off the top of his head. “May we proceed already? This was supposed to be a quick trip. Touch down and back up.” He lifted up a fold of purple cloth with the end of his flute. “Why are these deflated?”
“You said to be quiet while you were gone, so I turned the pumps off,” said Tom. “Don’t worry. Won’t take a minute to get it all up and running again.”
“A minute too long,” said Peter.
Tom ignored him and ducked under the sagging fabric. It heaved up and down as he worked some hidden machinery underneath. Tom was a shepherd by trade, but his true passion was for building things. He attributed his skill at invention to the human blood running through his fairy veins.
“Just got to start the pumps up!” he called.
They heard a series of metallic bangs, followed by a rhythmic wheezing and finally the low-pitched whir of gears engaging and taking over. With a loud hiss, the fabric began to billow and puff up with air.
“Is this made from your sheep’s wool?” shouted Izzy, pointing at the purple cloth.
“No,” Tom answered. “Wool’s too heavy. This is Wispworm silk.” He grinned. “I had it dyed purple. What can I say? I like the color.”
Soon, the silk had filled enough that Izzy could tell there were three separate balloons, each one the size of a school bus. Tubes connected them to a complicated-looking copper contraption in the center of the basket. A tiny glass window in the machinery showed a bright flame flickering inside.
The flame made Izzy think of Hen. It felt wrong and weird to be there without her sister. She wondered if she could beg Peter to go back and get her. But the purple balloons had fully inflated. They tugged impatiently at the ropes that attached them to the basket. Lug and Peter reached up to make sure the rigging didn’t tangle while Dree supervised from the air.
Tom settled himself behind a wooden frame he could tilt and pivot in different directions. He checked a few gauges and then called out to Selden. “We’re almost ready! Cast off those lines!” Tom pointed to the ropes tethering the ship to the trees around the edges of the clearing.
“Give me a hand, Izzy,” said Selden, Changing back into a boy and jogging down the length of one of the ropes. “You get that line over there while I get these two.”
Izzy circled around the basket, following one of the tethers to where it was tied to a tree trunk. She pulled the rope in and clamped it under her arm to give herself some slack to work with while she untied the knot. As she freed the last loop, she glanced up into the bushes.
A face stared out at her.
Izzy gasped and fell onto the ground on her back. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked again. The face was mostly hidden by leaves, but she could clearly see a pair of unblinking green eyes watching her.
“Hey, you guys?” Izzy’s voice was drowned out by the hiss and thrum of the Muscadine’s machinery.
The eyes blinked once, but the face didn’t move. Cautiously, Izzy reached out for a long stick lying near her foot. She picked it up and held it pointed in front of her.
“Who-who’s there?” she asked.
“Izzy? Are you all right?” Peter called out behind her.
The green eyes shifted in Peter’s direction. A rush of air swept over the clearing, fluttering the bushes and sweeping away a scattering of tiny, bright-green leaves.
Peter hurried over to Izzy. He knelt down beside her, his flute ready in his hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Izzy jabbed the stick into the bushes, pushing the leaves aside. Her stick struck a large mossy stone that had been hidden by the branches. What she had thought were eyes watching her were really two round patches of lime-green lichen.
Izzy exhaled. “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”
Peter tilted his face. “What was it?”
Izzy hesitated. First Unglers and now a face. Maybe she should say something about her visions. But Peter was already in such a hurry. What if she worried him and he canceled her visit or cut it short?
“No, it was nothing,” said Izzy. “Really.”
Peter scanned the woods as he helped Izzy to her feet. “Come on. We should go.”
They hurried back to the Muscadine. The other Changelings were already waiting for them inside the basket.
“All right, Lug,” Tom called as Peter helped Izzy climb over the side. “Now for the anchors!”
Lug went to each corner of the Muscadine and heaved up the heavy stones that anchored them to the ground. He tipped them over the side easily, as if they were made of foam.
“You can fly with me anytime,” said Tom with a smile. “Gave me a backache just watching you.”
Three corners of the basket rose up, but the spot where Lug stood stayed pinned to the ground.
“Oh!” Lug chuckled. “I almost forgot.”
He shimmied into the form of an overgrown badger with a long stripy tail. He was still large—taller than Izzy when he stood on his hind legs—but it was the smallest form he could Change into. Steadily, the Muscadine rose.
“Come on, Izzy. Us too,” said Selden, Changing back into a stoat.
Izzy curled her toes under. She’d have to tell her friends about her problem eventually, but she had hoped it wouldn’t come up on their first day back together.
“I—about Changing…” Izzy began.
“Hurry it along, please,” called Peter.
Izzy swallowed. “There’s something—”
“Actually, Izzy, hold up,” called Tom, leaning forward to check the gauges above the steering frame. “I need you to stand between Peter and Lug to balance the weight. If we get off balance, the whole basket will tip over. It’s something I’ve still got to work on.”
Relieved, Izzy took her place on the other side of the basket.
Selden climbed up onto the rim beside her. “Just wait,” he said. “You’ve never seen anything like this.”
“I’ve flown in a plane before,” said Izzy.
Selden huffed. “Trust me. It’s better.”
Izzy leaned over the side and watched the trees of the Edgewood recede beneath them. Soon, they had risen high enough that she could see the forest stretching out to the east in an endless sea of green.
Tom flipped a switch that powered a fan at the back of the basket, and the wind blew Izzy’s hair back. They began coasting west, speeding over the rim of the Edgewood plateau, where the forest abruptly stopped and gave way to miles of flowering meadow.
Dree Changed into a silvery scissor-tailed bird. She flew straight up, then turned and dove back down, spinning, pulling up at the last minute to land gracefully on the lip of the basket.
“Now who’s the show-off?” said Selden.
Dree stuck her tongue out the side of her beak.
The Muscadine was flying fast now, and the wind whistled in Izzy’s ears. But it clearly wasn’t fast enough for Good Peter. He looked down, clocking the distance while his black hair whipped around his head. He really must have been in a rush if he didn’t care that his hair got tangled.
Dree and Selden wanted to hear all about Izzy’s life back home. The three of them crouched against the side of the basket while Izzy told them about her school back in Everton, aware of how mundane it
must sound compared with living in a castle in Faerie. But they listened intently, and she did have a few highlights, like winning first place in the science fair.
“You actually made a machine that creates light?” asked Dree. “Was it magic?”
“It’s called a generator,” explained Izzy. “And it’s not magic. It’s science. I just wound about a million coils of wire around a magnet. I found the instructions on the Internet.”
“What kind of net?” asked Selden.
“Never mind.” Izzy laughed. “But you don’t want to hear about all this. It’s so boring. I’m sure it’s nothing like all the fun adventures you’ve been having.”
“We haven’t had adventures,” said Selden. He looked over his shoulder at Peter, then lowered his voice so only Izzy and Dree could hear. “He keeps us on too tight a leash. We’re practically prisoners in the castle in Avhalon.”
But as he told Izzy what they’d been up to since she left, it didn’t sound so much like a prison as paradise. The Changelings had spent the last nine months playing games, throwing parties, swiping pies from the castle kitchens, and generally driving Peter up the wall. Avhalon held a festival or holiday every other week. Some of them sounded familiar, like Day of the Dead and Mayfest, but others she’d never heard of: Lambing Day, Thripplemas, Feisting Feast.
“And in a few more days, it’ll be the Summer Solstice,” said Dree. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“You just watch,” said Selden. “I bet Peter won’t even let us go this year.”
Izzy glanced at Peter. “Has he always been so strict with you?”
“He’s always been irritable,” said Selden. “But this time, something else is going on. I think he’s up to something, but I can’t figure out what.”
“He’s been gone more than usual,” added Dree. “I think he’s having a secret romance, but no one agrees with me.”
Selden made a gagging face, then clutched his throat and fell over like he just choked and died.
Dree rolled her eyes and pecked at him with her beak.
Selden revived, wearing a grin of sharp little stoat teeth. “Dree’s been reading sappy love stories. They’re eating away at her brain.”
“They’re novels.” Dree turned to Izzy. “Avhalon’s got a good library. You’ll appreciate it even if no one else does.”
“Look!” called Lug from the other side of the basket. He pointed down over the side. “We’re almost there!”
Izzy stood up and leaned over the edge. A heavy wave of memories rolled over her as she looked down onto Avhalon. The island immortalized in the King Arthur legends wasn’t an island at all but a city surrounded by rivers. It wasn’t even much of a city, more like a country village with a high stone wall enclosing it all the way around.
The elegant white castle in the center of town seemed very out of place among the other rattletrap buildings. It looked too perfect, like something out of a fairy tale. And Izzy had learned all too well that fairy tales were rarely what they seemed in Faerie.
The castle was a recent addition, courtesy of Morvanna. Izzy spotted the tower where the cruel woman had kept the other Changelings prisoner for years before Izzy and Selden had rescued them. The ballroom where they’d fought Morvanna was just below. The windows had all been replaced with new glass, but Izzy knew exactly which one the witch had fallen out of, down to her death on the stones below. She shuddered at the memory.
“Doesn’t living in the castle give you guys the creeps?” Izzy asked her friends.
“Peter is sleeping in Morvanna’s old room,” said Selden. “Talk about nightmares.”
“I think he does that because he knows everyone will be too scared to bother him,” said Dree loudly.
Peter surely heard her, but he didn’t respond. Deep frown lines creased his smooth forehead. “Where the devil are they?” he grumbled, surveying the town below.
“Who are you looking for?” asked Izzy.
“The Watch. I haven’t even been gone a whole day, and five of the guards I set up have left their posts.” He rubbed the space between his eyebrows with one finger. “This is what three hundred years of peace get you. Laziness.”
The heavy whir of the air pumps faded as Tom steered the ship slowly down toward a large open plaza on the eastern side of town. Below, the Avhalonian fairies gathered together to wave up at the Muscadine, scattering once they realized it was about to land on top of them.
“Selden, the lines!” Tom shouted.
Selden Changed back into his boy form. He leaped up to the rim of the basket and started reeling in ropes and tossing anchor cables down to fairies waiting on the ground below.
The ship was still six feet from the ground when Peter jumped over the side. Izzy waited until they landed to climb out after him.
“Lufkin!” called Peter. “Where is that lazy excuse for a mayor?”
As Peter stormed across the plaza, a fairy man with deep dimples and a receding hairline hopped toward him on bare feet. The man had been reclining on the ledge of a stone fountain with his toes in the water when they landed, and he left a trail of puddles in his path.
“Peter, you’re back!” called Lufkin, holding his arms wide. He wore a too-tight jacket with wilted flowers stuck through the buttonholes. “I wasn’t expecting you until nightfall.”
“Clearly,” said Peter. He watched in disgust as Lufkin squeezed his wet feet into dry shoes. “Where’s the Watch? I only saw one guard at the Orchard Gate.”
Lufkin pointed to a group of men and women in red uniforms hanging paper lanterns across the street. “Well, we needed help with the Solstice decorations, and they’re the only ones with ladders, so…” He cleared his throat and adjusted a bronze medal pinned to his jacket. The word Constable was engraved into it. “Now see here, Peter. I’m the elected official, and one of my duties is preparing our fair city for the Solstice Celebration—”
Peter jabbed a finger into Lufkin’s sternum. “I elected you, you frivolous fool. And I did it because you said you’d help me restore some order to Avhalon. It’s no wonder Morvanna stormed in here and took over the way she did. It would be like taking control of a pile of puff pastries.”
“Speaking of that,” said Lug. He jumped down from the basket. The Muscadine bobbed up again. “Did we miss supper?”
“That’s the attitude, my boy!” said Lufkin, slapping Lug on the back. “Now, Peter, don’t worry yourself so much. As usual, the Watch haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary. If anything, they’re bored out of their minds.” He clapped his hands overhead and called loudly to the decorating team, “My friends, carry on without me! I’ll be dining with these fine—”
Peter stopped Lufkin with another chest jab. “You aren’t dining with anyone tonight. You’re setting the Watch back in their posts, and you’re joining them on the night shift.”
Lufkin frowned and walked away muttering something about how sour apples spoil parties.
Selden jumped down from the basket. He gave Peter a sideways look as they crossed the plaza toward the castle entrance. “Why are you so mad about the Watch? What have you got them looking out for?”
“For sneaky Changeling children slipping out of the castle when they’ve been told to stay put,” said Peter. Before he could go on with his lecture, a riotous cry echoed out from the castle doors. Peter grimaced. “The next time I leave, I’m locking everyone in their rooms.”
A square brown kite zipped out through the castle doors and glided toward them. It wasn’t until it was a yard from Izzy’s face that she realized it was a flying squirrel. The squirrel smacked into her chest and clung to her shirt, then Changed into a little girl with long black pigtails.
“Izzy’s back!” she cried.
Fourteen Changelings poured out through the doors like marauders raiding a fortress in reverse. They swarmed around Izzy, hugging her and h
igh-fiving her, something Hen had taught them before she left. The littlest ones tried to climb on her back, switching to Lug when they realized she couldn’t hold them all.
“Hi…Olligan! And Hale!… Ow, Sibi, you’re pulling my hair.” Izzy tried greeting everyone, but they kept Changing, which made it hard to keep track of who was who.
The Changelings talked over each other, asking a hundred questions all at once. They swept her up like a wave, pushing and pulling her through the open doors into the gleaming white halls of the castle.
Izzy had daydreamed of this moment for months. Back in Faerie, back with her friends. It would have been just as perfect as she’d imagined had she not glanced behind her and seen Peter swing the heavy castle doors shut and bolt them with thick iron bars.
Was he trying to keep the Changelings from leaving? Or were the iron bars there to keep someone else from getting inside? But she couldn’t give herself much time to worry about it. Fourteen pairs of hands were dragging her through the halls, straight to dinner.
6
Secrets
Izzy’s memories of Morvanna’s castle were of stark, orderly rooms scrubbed as clean as a dentist’s office. The entry hall was still bare, but as the Changelings led Izzy up the stairs to the floors where they lived and played, it became obvious that the castle had new and very different masters.
Garlands made of acorn shells and mismatched buttons crisscrossed the windows. Good Peter clearly employed some servants; they’d passed fairy men and women dressed in uniforms on their way in. But either they didn’t take their jobs very seriously or they’d just given up on trying to clean up after the wild children under their care. Dirty laundry lay strewn across the stair railings. Most rooms had pillow forts constructed in the corners. One hallway even had a fairly substantial real wooden fort built across it.
Park, a dimple-cheeked boy who could Change into a raccoon, pointed to the fort. “Rusk and me are making an impenetrable fortress.”
“Wow,” said Izzy. “A fort within a castle. You’ll be extra secure.”
Park grinned and wiped his nose with two fingers. They were bound together with a makeshift bandage. With a wink, he Changed into a small rodent with big ears and a long, wiggling nose. “You’ve got to try out the slide.”
In a Dark Land Page 4