by A W Hartoin
“Hey! Who are you calling a child? The commander can summon me all he wants.” I looked at Farue. “Why’d he want me?”
“Farue,” said Soren, his face stern with a warning.
Farue glared at Soren and his words came out tense and forced as if he didn’t want to say them. “He needs your fire. You’re the only kindler we have.”
“We do not have her.” Soren finally reached us and he looked even worse close up. The paint on his skin was smudged, which might not seem like a big thing if you don’t know dryads. They were quite particular about their wood-graining. “She will go home and not become involved.”
I stepped between them. “Too late. I’m here and I’m not leaving until I get Miss Penrose’s medicine and find out what the commander really wanted.” I looked at Farue.
“I apologize for thinking the worst,” said Farue. “The commander wanted—”
“No, Farue,” said Soren, more sharply than I’d ever heard him speak. “We will not use her to right a wrong. This is not her fight.”
“If she wants to help...”
“I am your ultimate commander, and I forbid it. Matilda will go home. We can’t take the chance that she’ll be captured. The spriggans will do almost anything to get their hands on her.”
Farue nodded and took a step back.
“Why do they want her so bad?” asked Gerald, his face resentful. “I can outthink Matilda any day of the week.”
“But you can’t outfight her. They’d like to have her abilities at their disposal. Revenge is foremost in their minds. Right alongside money,” said Soren.
“I’d never fight for them,” I said.
“They know what you’d do for love,” Soren said, his long fingers brushing my cheek. “It’s your weakness. They would exploit it.”
Iris crossed her arms. “Matilda doesn’t have any weaknesses.”
“I wish that were true.” Soren squeezed my shoulder with his long fingers. “How were you planning on getting home?”
Gerald and I crossed our arms to match Iris’s stubborn stance.
“Matilda, try to understand.”
“I don’t understand and I don’t care. I came to get Miss Penrose’s medicine and we’re not leaving without it. And if the commander wants me to do something, I’m darn well going to do it. I’m not going anywhere, so can you send our parents a message saying that we’re safe with you?”
“I already did, but I don’t know how much safety I can guarantee them.”
Soren walked to the nearest map. “The spriggans have expanded their territory, called in old allies, and are now threatening to invade. I don’t know if we can stop them. Fairies are dying every day in their territory. Children are disappearing. They must’ve expanded their markets. They’ve taken children as old as you, Matilda. I can’t take any chances. I won’t.”
“You’re not the one taking the chance. We knew what we were doing coming here to see the spriggans.”
Soren’s face paled beneath his paint. “The spriggans? I assumed you came to see the galen.”
“I’m here to see anyone who has kaki persimmon root,” I said.
Esmee entered and stopped short. Her hair flowed around her face, obscuring it for a second. “You need kaki?”
“Do you have it?” asked Iris. “We need it for Miss Penrose. She has—”
“I’ll tell her,” interrupted Gerald. “Miss Penrose has—”
“Stop interrupting me. I can tell her just fine. You’re such a know-it-all.”
“That’s because I know it all.”
“No, you don’t. You’re an egomaniac.”
“Stop trying to use big words that you don’t understand,” said Gerald with a sneer.
“It means you have a huge ego and you’re a maniac.”
Esmee glided past the bickering duo. “So you need kaki?”
“Miss Penrose has congestive heart failure,” I said.
“Is she a wood fairy like you?” A lock of Esmee’s hair coiled in front of her face and Soren brushed it away, an intimate gesture and one that made me stutter.
“Um...um...yes, she’s a wood fairy,” I said.
“That’s extremely rare in your species. What are her symptoms?”
I told her everything, including Lucrece’s diagnosis, just in case. Esmee sniffed when I said the word “allergy.”
“Who is this Lucrece?”
“She claims to be a healer.” I described Lucrece. I wasn’t very generous in the looks department, but I was accurate for the most part.
“I’ve never heard of a wood fairy healer named Lucrece. In fact, there aren’t many wood fairy healers at all. Your grandmother was the only one in the area.”
“So I’m right, and she’s wrong.”
“Of course you are.” Iris ran over and hooked her arm through mine.
Gerald followed and grabbed my arm, jerking me close to him. “Absolutely. That means I’m sure, certain of the fact, Iris.”
“Shut up,” said Iris. “She’s my sister.”
“She’s my friend.”
I shook them both off. “What’s wrong with you? We’re talking about Miss Penrose, not me. Esmee, do you have the root?”
“Sadly, no.” Another lock flowed in front of her face. I brushed it away before Soren had a chance to, and he raised an eyebrow at me, which I ignored. “We don’t stock it because we have no need in the species we treat.”
“What about the spriggans? My brother, Horc, was a spriggan, and he thinks they can get it.”
“Was a spriggan? What does that mean?” she asked.
“We adopted him and he decided he’s not a spriggan anymore. He’s a wood fairy.”
“One can’t decide what one is. You are what you are,” said Esmee, her voice flat and humorless.
Right then I decided I wasn’t crazy about Esmee. Horc could be whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and she could go float off a cliff. My palms tingled and she was about to get a fire facial when Soren stepped between us.
“It’s been a long day. Matilda’s party should retire now. I’m sure Daiki has a guest area available in the compound. How does that sound?”
“Terrible,” I replied. “I’m not going to bed. Can the spriggans get it?”
Esmee started to speak, but Soren silenced her with a wave of his hand. “The spriggans are not an option. We’ll find another source.”
“Is there another source in this mall?” I asked, already knowing the answer, but I wanted to make him admit it.
“We’ll find one.”
“Esmee, how long does Miss Penrose have without the root?”
“If your description is accurate, I’d give her another two days at the outside.” Esmee took my hand. The coolness of it felt foreign to my natural heat. “I’m sorry.”
“Then it’s the spriggans,” I said. “I’m not going to let Miss Penrose die because I’m afraid.”
“You’re afraid?” asked Gerald.
“No, but I should be,” I said.
“Thank goodness. You had me worried for a second. If you’re afraid, I don’t know what we’d do.”
“We’ll do what we always do,” said Iris, hooking her arm through Gerald’s. “We’ll help. Right, Gerald?”
“Right,” said Gerald, sticking out his pointy chin.
“You will not be going to the spriggans for anything.” Soren shot a sharp look at the katana by the door and they stepped in front of it, blocking the exit.
I yawned and said, “I don’t need doors. I’ll burn my way out.”
Soren sat down and sighed. “Fine. If you promise not to do anything without my consent, I will send an emissary to the spriggans and request a truce for an immediate meeting.”
“I promise.” I certainly meant it at the time. I always do, but circumstances don’t always cooperate.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WE SETTLED INTO Daiki’s guest area in about two minutes, since we had nothing to unpack except our small traveling bag
s. Instead, we wandered around touching the beautiful ebony furniture painted with white cranes and stunted trees. Fine silks lined the walls and ceiling and made me realize how grubby we were.
“We need baths,” I said.
“Speak for yourself,” said Gerald. “I look like a warrior. It rocks.”
Iris and I held our tongues. Blood and bruises didn’t make Gerald look like a warrior. Not even the wicked green swords stuck under his belt helped. He just didn’t have it in him. He could have been wearing chain mail and carrying a mace, and he’d still look like a miniature professor.
“Since when do you want to look like a warrior?” asked Iris. “You’re supposed to be the brains behind the operation. That’s what you always tell me.”
“I can do both. I’m that smart.”
Iris wrinkled her nose and went to snoop through a fancy trunk with all kinds of brass decorating the outside. I looked for a tub in our antechambers, but didn’t find one.
“I’m going to find a bathroom,” I said, opening the door.
Daiki stepped in front of the opening. “Where are you going?”
“To take a bath.” I scowled at him. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Soren gave orders that you stay here.”
“Oh, come on. I’m gross.”
“I don’t deny it.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Daiki closed the door in my face.
“So much for a bath.”
“Who cares about baths?” Gerald dropped to his knees beside the trunk. “Iris found this great tansu.”
“Yes, I did. I found it. I saw the greatness.” Iris sniffed. “What’s a tansu?”
I fell into a pile of silk pillows embroidered with birds and flowers and watched Gerald run his hands over the trunk. I poked him. “Tansu?”
“I think it means closet in Japanese, but I’m not sure. I haven’t studied Asian cultures extensively yet.”
“You’re letting us down. I expected you to lecture us about Japanese fairy cultures and all kinds of stuff we don’t need to know,” I said.
“You need to know. We’re in a katana compound.”
Gerald pushed a small black button and a door popped loose in the middle of the trunk. He opened it and found three drawers and another door.
“That’s awesome,” said Iris, sliding open the largest drawer. “It’s filled with books.”
She pulled out the first one and sniffed the old binding. We Whipplethorn fairies have a thing about books. Maybe it’s because we were isolated out in the middle of nowhere for so long and didn’t have very many or maybe it’s because of our species. We’re just crazy about anything made of wood, like paper.
“What’s the title?” I asked.
“The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne,” said Iris.
“This one looks good,” said Gerald. “The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.”
“Judd read that one,” I said. “He loved it, but he said the elves were huge, like as big as humans.”
“That’s weird,” said Iris. “Why would that be?”
“Writers can do anything. Tolkien probably never saw a real one. What’s the next book?”
Gerald handed me a slim volume bound in thick paper with unfamiliar characters written on the front. I thumbed through it, unable to read a single word, but somehow it felt good in my hands. The weight was balanced and it smelled fantastic, all woody and ancient.
Gerald and Iris found more books in more cubbyholes. They also found music on scrolls with what Gerald thought was Japanese lettering. Soon we had books piled all around us. The place was starting to feel like home.
“You should read this one,” said Iris as she placed a book in my lap, Storm of Steel by Ernst Junger.
“I think I’ll stick with this one.” I held up my unreadable book.
“You can’t even read it.”
Daiki came in and placed a tray with fruit and cheese on the floor next to us. Iris snatched up a hunk of cheddar. Rufus climbed out of her pocket and eyed the cheese. Iris broke off a bit and fed it to the lizard. They sat with identical expressions of pleasure on their faces as they chewed.
I held out my book to Daiki. “What do you know about this book?”
“Everything. It is essential to all katana. You should read it. I believe I have a translation. You can borrow it, but don’t tell Soren. He won’t like my interference.”
“What’s it called?” I asked.
“The Art of War.”
“By Sun Tzu,” said Gerald. “No wonder you like it, Matilda.”
“I’m not obsessed with war. It just looks like a good book.”
“It’s an excellent book,” said Daiki. “And an essential one to your species.”
“Wood fairies?” said Iris.
“I misspoke. I meant to say essential to one with Matilda’s abilities. Kindlers have always had a talent for battle. The commander knows as much and that’s why others fear you.”
“They fear her because they’re afraid she’ll set their houses on fire.”
Daiki shook his head and knelt beside me. The angles of his face were accentuated in the glow of the fungus. His pale green skin was stretched tight over his cheekbones and he looked more like a sculpture than a real living being. A very handsome, exotic sculpture.
“They may think that’s why they fear you, but the real reason is that you’re a warrior like the katana or the phalanx. We never quite fit with other species of a more peaceful nature. Our spirits set us apart.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I knew my fire set me apart, but it never occurred to me that there might be more to it than that.
“I will leave you to your reading.” Daiki rose and left the room.
I gave Iris my book and followed Daiki into the hall. “So even if I stop making fire other fairies won’t like me? Is that what you’re saying? I’m unlikeable?”
Daiki laughed in a low, controlled way. “Not at all. You’re quite likeable. It’s just that you’re meant for battle and they sense it.”
“I can do other things, you know. Grandma Vi said I had the healing gift.”
“The love of battle doesn’t preclude you from enjoying other things. The love of reading, for instance.” Daiki moved closer, his tall form arching over me.
“But you think I’m going to be reading alone because everyone will think I want to kick their butts.”
“Quite the contrary. You’ll never be alone.” He gestured to the room where Gerald and Iris were bickering over another of the trunk’s compartments. “They’re with you and they’ll never want to be anywhere else. Your fire will draw some close and push others away.”
“I don’t want to push anyone away,” I said.
He chuckled. “Soon you’ll learn to only want the ones who want you. They’re the one’s who matter.”
“How do you know so much?” I said it sarcastically, but Daiki didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been in training all my life and I’m older than you.”
“How old are you?” I peered up in his face. “I can’t tell.”
“I’m seventeen last month.”
“That’s all?”
“You thought I was old?” He tucked a stray lock behind my ear and my stomach flipped. It was quite annoying actually, he wasn’t that handsome.
“Not exactly.”
“I’m glad to hear that you don’t think I’m ancient. I hope you believe me about not being alone. Warriors are considered to be quite attractive generally.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You would know, I suppose.”
“I would.”
Daiki drew me away from the open door. He cupped my cheek, bent low, and then he kissed me. I’d been kissed before so it wasn’t exactly a shock, but this was utterly different. When Rory kissed me, it was like a dare or something. He wanted to see if he could survive it. Daiki wasn’t like that at all. He wasn’t scared I’d give him a big smack
or set him on fire. He wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all me. I liked it. Someone who wasn’t scared. Someone like me.
“You kissed me,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“You should read The Art of War. You’ll learn to anticipate better.”
“I anticipate just fine.”
Then he did it again. Just a quick one to show he could. The showoff. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”
“Now you’re just being smug.” I pushed him back with a smile.
“Smugness is a failing common to the katana because we’re so good-looking.”
Daiki looked at me with a bad-boy grin. I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.
“You’re all right, I guess.”
“Come on, admit it. You like my green skin. The long, curving ears.”
“Well, you don’t have any wings.”
“Neither does Soren.”
I flushed. “So what?”
“Don’t give me that. I’ve read the book. I anticipate. He’s twenty-three by-the-way.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Soren’s like my uncle.”
“You sure about that?”
Before I could answer, a fairy very similar to Daiki, except half the size, rushed up. “Excuse me, Daiki. The commander has awakened. He has orders.”
“Can I see him?” I asked.
The fairy glanced at Daiki for help, which wasn’t forthcoming. He ducked his head and spoke. Without seeing his lips, I couldn’t make it out.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t hear so well.”
He raised his head and spoke loudly. “Soren forbids it.”
“He forbids it?” Are you serious?”
“Yes, Matilda Whipplethorn. You may not see the commander.” He turned to Daiki. “Your presence is allowed and requested.”
Iris rushed out with Rufus perched on her shoulder and grabbed my arm. “The commander is awake. He wants you.”
“Soren says I can’t see him,” I said.
“Why not? He’s asking for you.”
We all looked at the messenger and he flushed. At least I thought it was a flush. Two round spots appeared on his green cheeks, but they weren’t red. They were a darker shade of green.
Daiki patted his shoulder. “It’s alright, Tadao.” He nodded to me and strode down the long hall.