Tea & Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  I slid a pair of wire-rimmed glasses onto my nose, taking a deep breath before starting to read the glyphs adorning the creamy yellow pages.

  With the glasses, which were discovered by British archaeologist and Egyptologist Howard Carter in 1937, shortly before his death, I could read and understand any language I encountered.

  There was only one, small side effect from the glasses, after I took them off, every word I tried to read for about an hour following their use looked like gibberish.

  Sebille found me there after a couple of hours and settled a steaming cup of tea in front of me. The floral scent tugged at me as I pulled off the glasses and closed a slim volume of “The Magical History of Tea Making”, pushing it aside. I’d found nothing useful regarding a tea infuser artifact in any of the books.

  “No luck?” Sebille asked, dropping her fanny onto the edge of the table and crossing her arms.

  I sipped, sitting back with a sigh. “Nothing. I’m starting to think Mr. Slimy lied to me.”

  Sebille frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t remember anything in the legends attributing any kind of special power to tea infusers. I could ask my mom.”

  I nodded. “Maybe it isn’t an ancient device. Maybe someone magicked it more recently.”

  Sebille shook her head. “It seems unlikely. A spell to remove someone’s essence is incredibly powerful magic. I’m not sure there have been any magic users since the Medieval days who could create something that dark and powerful.”

  “Not even the Quillerans?”

  She took a moment to consider my question before responding. Finally, she shook her head. “Doubtful. But I suppose if they’d found a way to merge all their energies…” Her eyes went wide. “Mr. Wicked.”

  I blinked in surprise. “What about him?”

  “I’ve heard rumors about his litter. Apparently, they were the result of a pairing of the two most powerful witch familiars. There were rumors in Toadstool City that the Quillerans had a specific purpose for the kittens.” She lifted a bright red brow. “All of them.”

  Understanding blossomed. “Then, when Maude Quilleran gave Mr. Wicked to me…”

  “She intruded on their plans.” Sebille nodded.

  “But apparently the magic was successful. If what Mr. Slimy tells me is true, anyway.”

  “Yes.” Sebille stood up. “I’m going to talk to my mother.” She headed toward the back of the room.

  “Wait, aren’t you going to use the mirror?”

  She kept walking. “No. I think I need to go to the forest for this one.”

  I surged to my feet. “I’m coming with you.”

  To the normal human type creature, the forest where the Sprite Queen and her people lived probably just looked like any other woods, with regular-looking trees arching over moist ground that was covered in wildflowers and low-lying weeds and vegetation.

  To me, the Enchanted Forest earned its name and then some.

  The woods were dense with trees. Towering high into a cloudless blue sky with thick arms covered in rich hues of green. The trunks of the ancient trees were bigger around than I was, some of them twice or double my size. Carefully cultivated flowers in all sizes, colors and shapes dug their roots into the rich black soil around the massive trees’ far-flung feet.

  The wonderful mix of smells ran the gamut from the earthiness of the fertile soil to the variety of natural perfumes wafting all around us on a soft, warm breeze.

  Unlike what a human might experience in the wood, it was far from quiet. My ears were bombarded with a cacophony of sounds and voices. From the belching song of the fat bullfrogs along the wide creek, to the happy chirp of a thousand different insects, and the shrill tones of a thousand Sprites, Fairies and Elves that populated the popular forest.

  It wasn’t quiet. But, to me at least, it was definitely peaceful.

  It was the sound of a happy, vibrant colony of supernormal creatures who’d found their perfect spot to live in the world.

  “At this time of day, she’ll be in the palace,” Sebille told me, grimacing. “You’ll have to wait outside for me.”

  I shook my head. “Not a chance. I have questions for the queen. I need to speak with her.”

  My assistant’s freckle-speckled face wrinkled with distaste. “I can’t just command her to come out to see us. She is the Queen after all.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that. I have a chip left over from when I found her missing ladybug necklace.”

  Sebille looked only mildly mollified. She hadn’t wanted me to take on the ladybug necklace job. It was still a source of disagreement between us. Even though it had ended moderately well.

  I’d returned the Sprite Queen’s favorite piece of jewelry to her, earning definite brownie points with the creature who ran the entire Enchanted Forest, but I’d had to burn a favor with another, more delicate connection in the process.

  It was a win. But not a win-win. I’d made an educated decision that had ended with a measured outcome.

  I was pretty sure I’d do it again if I had to.

  I only hoped I’d never have to.

  Sebille stopped at the edge of a magical place. I smiled as I did every time I saw the Queen’s kingdom. Stretched out beneath the protective arms of the forest’s largest tree, with the clear sparkling water of Magic Creek as its southern boundary, were hundreds of toadstools, nestled close and filling every inch of available space.

  They were all different sizes and shapes, colors and patterns. Pretty green ones covered in delicate brown spots, oversized white ones with tawny underbellies, even tree-shaped toadstools whose surface reminded me of pictures of a brain I’d once seen in one of my magical reference texts.

  There were pink ones with purple stripes, yellow ones with orange spots, stools with lacy underbellies that looked like an old-fashioned woman’s skirt, and dispersed strategically among the rest, toadstools that were so vibrantly blue they mirrored the hues of the sky above. I’d learned from Sebille that those were specially magicked stools. They were warded to give warning on a variety of things, from dangerous weather, to approaching airborne predators, the inadvertent predators of the human or supernormal variety.

  Too many Fae had been injured by humans walking through the wood without paying attention, carelessly stomping on a toadstool home before realizing what they’d done.

  Not that they would have cared if they had. Since humans were blissfully unaware of the teeming life beneath their feet and before their very eyes.

  “You have the chip?” Sebille asked.

  I nodded, digging a tiny pebble from my pocket and handing it to Sebille.

  She examined it carefully and then nodded, slipping it into a small box attached to the protective Redwood tree.

  She closed her eyes and spun her finger in front of my face. Once, twice, three times, and then opened her hand, slamming her palm right at my face. I blinked in surprise but her hand stopped unerringly, a fraction of an inch from the tip of my nose.

  Almost immediately I felt the burn of her magic sliding through me, starting at my toes and rising quickly up my legs, torso, hands and arms, neck and then head.

  A deep, red flush followed the magic over my body, until all visible skin was the color of an overripe tomato.

  The burn increased, causing me to grit my teeth against the pain. I had to fight to keep my protective magics from kicking in, knowing I’d only get one chance to accept the magic and, if I rejected it, my chip would be null and void.

  Flower-scented air whispered over me and I opened my eyes as Sebille’s form throbbed once, twice, and then disappeared from sight on the third pulse.

  The ground beneath my feet rumbled violently. A quick jolt of fear brought my pulse spiking. I stumbled forward, trying to stay on my feet as the rumbling continued, growing in intensity.

  A horrific bellowing noise had me spinning around, a cry on my lips as a gigantic, furry creature with huge ears and massive teeth thundered toward me.

 
I stood transfixed, watching my imminent death approach.

  A hand snaked out and wrapped around my wrist, yanking me sideways as the enormous bunny landed right where I’d been standing.

  I turned to find Sebille glaring at me. “Do you have a death wish?”

  Confused, I glanced down at myself. I looked the same. But when I turned my gaze on Toadstool City, I gasped.

  The stools were the size of human buildings. I could see the streets, filled with hundreds of walking, flying and gliding Fae.

  The air beneath the closely-spaced stools buzzed with flying Sprites, their wings fluttering with iridescent vibrancy in the lacy sunlight that managed to filter past the tree branches far above. The Sprites moved from one place to another in the city with determined expressions, their hands generally filled with bundles of goods, or packets of papers to be delivered to the palace.

  The Sprites were the government in Queen Sindra’s kingdom. Every single Sprite had a government job. I knew that was the biggest bone of contention between Sebille and the queen. When my assistant had left Toadstool City behind, she’d left more than a home and friends.

  She’d left an important position at the Queen’s side. Her responsibility as a key advisor. And that was just never done.

  “Come on. Let’s get this over with. I don’t want to be here past nightfall,” Sebille murmured crankily.

  When night fell, the city would go into lockdown. Magical aversion warding would be coupled with protective spider webbing to keep everyone who lived there safely inside the city, and those who didn’t belong firmly outside the protections.

  I nodded, falling quickly into step beside Sebille. I didn’t want to be trapped through the night any more than she did.

  Queen Sindra’s palace was at the very center of Toadstool City. It rose above the other stools both in size and vitality of color. With a massive, domed roof painted a vibrant purple and covered with bright yellow splotches, the palace formed the perfect center point, a lively array of stool-lined spokes that represented the city’s streets radiating from it.

  All roads in Toadstool led directly to the palace.

  When we approached the rounded yellow door of the entrance, two Elves dressed in the solid black attire of the Queen’s guards moved from the sides to block us.

  They wore large, golden seals on golden chains around their necks. It was the only adornment on the severe black uniforms.

  When they saw Sebille, they inclined their heads and stepped back. But that didn’t stop them from giving me a wary glance as I moved past.

  I bit my tongue on the desire to offer them an excuse for my being there, forcing myself to remember that the city ran on a hierarchy.

  Explaining myself to the guards would be like explaining the transmission of malaria to a disease carrying mosquito. Neither would care what I was up to unless it meant trouble for them.

  I followed Sebille into a small entryway whose only furnishings were dense banks of sweet-smelling flowers.

  Sebille strode past several Sprites with little more greeting than a nod and I had to hurry to keep up with her.

  The place was built like a honeycomb, consisting of hundreds of small, octagonally-shaped rooms that served as buffers and barriers to the central space where the Queen lived. Each chamber in the honeycomb held at least one guard, sometimes two, and each time the guards started to confront us, only to back away once they saw Sebille.

  I’d only been to the honeycomb palace one other time and I hadn’t been with Sebille that time. I’d been accompanied by one of Sindra’s guards because she’d requested my presence in her rooms.

  Seeing the deferential treatment Sebille was being given, I wondered for the first time why she chose to remain my assistant at Croakies rather than taking her rightful place with her people.

  There had to be a story there and I needed to find out what it was.

  Glancing at Sebille’s tense expression and tight jaw, I realized that information was not going to be coming my way anytime soon.

  We finally emerged from the last honeycomb and stepped into a large, central space. Though the ceiling high above our heads was enclosed, the space wasn’t as dark and dreary as I’d expected. In fact, the entire perimeter of the octagonal space was lined with layers of flowering plants and trees. The scent was light and wonderful, and patches of sunlight from octagonally shaped openings around the walls made a bright and pleasant space.

  A constant buzzing sound filled the space. I eyed the flowers and noted the multitude of bees, busily buzzing from bloom to bloom as if they were driven by a single purpose.

  I realized what that purpose was when I spotted the honeycomb nests lining the walls of the entire space.

  Somehow, Queen Sindra had become the Queen Bee of her own, massive hive.

  I had known the Sprites made their own honey, and that it was cherished for both its medicinal as well as psychotropic qualities. But I hadn’t realized how key to its making their queen was.

  Queen Sindra watched us walk across the mossy floor covering toward her. She had no throne in the space. She rarely sat. If she wasn’t standing, serenely overlooking the business of her kingdom, she was buzzing back and forth like her bees, her enormous pink, purple, and neon green wings pounding the air with gentle purpose.

  She stood with her hands folded in front of her. Her wings pulsed gently behind her, ready to take flight at a moment’s notice. But I didn’t take the movement personally. She never rested until the cloaking magics fell into place at night.

  Not even among her own people.

  Sindra spared me a quick smile as we stopped before her. “Hello, Naida, dear. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Queen Sindra. Thank you for asking.”

  She nodded once, pleasantries concluded, and turned an unsure smile on Sebille. “Daughter. How do you fare?”

  I saw the telltale tightening around Sebille’s eyes that told me she was fighting an eye roll. Sebille hated the old ways of the Sprites. She hated the clinging to tradition Toadstool City represented, the archaic language spoken within the palace’s walls. Even the palace itself because of the hierarchy it represented. “I’m fine. I just came to speak to you about the latest magic wave.”

  The queen’s mouth tightened at Sebille’s brusque manner. But she inclined her head, her expression turning business-like as she turned to me, excluding her daughter. “I’ve sent the Elves out to test the wave. They can’t trace it to anyone in particular. But they did say there’s definitely a strain of dark magic woven into it.”

  “The Quillerans?” I asked, frowning.

  She pressed her palms together, fingers pointed upward as her wings juddered with displeasure. “We just don’t know. But the strands contained bits of time manipulation and cell re-designation.” She frowned. “I don’t have to tell you that, with dark magic as the glue, it’s a terrifying mix, Naida.”

  I frowned. “I figured as much.”

  “Have you identified the artifact?”

  “I’m not sure.” I told her about the frog and the book that came forward when he arrived.

  She listened carefully, cocking her head like a curious bird. When I’d finished, she thought about what I’d told her before responding. “I’ve heard of live artifacts before. Though it’s spectacularly rare.” She didn’t look as if she was convinced.

  “What do you think about the clock tower?” I asked, trying not to show her how concerned I was. I didn’t like the idea at all that whoever was behind the current artifact disruption could reach into my home when I was at my most vulnerable and drag me through time and space to a place I didn’t know.

  “Very disconcerting.” She reached out and touched my hand, her skin cool and soft. “Naida, I’d like you to consider calling an Assembly on this one.”

  An Assembly was a massive gathering of all the supernormals in the area for the purpose of discussing a specific situation that might affect everyone. It was a loud, complex and long-drawn-out affa
ir and it would yank the situation out of my hands and throw it up for determination by the group.

  I experienced a jolt of instant rejection at the thought. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

  “The Quillerans would be part of the Assembly,” Sebille told her mother, her expression grim. “I think that would be a mistake.”

  One of the guiding principles of an Assembly was that no supernormal could be excluded. Everyone had the right to have a say.

  “Yes, that is a concern,” Sindra agreed.

  It always surprised me when Sindra took her daughter’s advice without challenge. She was as proud as any queen I’d ever met, yet she trusted Sebille in a way I’d rarely witnessed in a royal. It almost made me regret Sebille’s decision to forgo her position as her mother’s advisor. Though it would be a great hardship for me to lose her help at Croakies.

  “But at some point you may not have an option,” the queen told me. “I fear you’re up against something more powerful than anything you’ve faced before.”

  Well, that just sucked.

  I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. “You’ll tell me if the Elves turn anything up?”

  “I will.”

  “Have you ever heard of a spell or artifact that could pull the essence out of a person?”

  Sindra shook her head. “That is the darkest of all magics, Naida. If there’s a supernormal who’s using that type of magic, we don’t have precedence for how to deal with it.” Her cool fingers tightened over mine again. “And I’m deeply troubled by the way this came to you, dear. You’re an artifact keeper. You’re not equipped to deal with magic as potentially dark as this. I’m not sure you have the training to handle it. The very fact that it came to you is very concerning.”