Pale: 8.7 - Avery

Vanishing Points – 8.7 | Pale
“What do you think this place is?” Fernanda asked.

“Making conversation.  What do you think this place is?”

“It’s… a fae market.  There’s lots of traps.  Lots of items, some presumably cursed.  I’ve been warned about this stuff a few times.  In books and by other Fae.”

“Yeah.  That’s one takeaway,” Fernanda said, browsing some finely decorated bookends and book holders.  Some of the statues stretched a bit or shifted position to give her a better look.

“What’s the other takeaway?” Avery asked.

“Maybe I’ll share my take later.  Are you buying anything?” Fernanda asked.  Fernanda was buying a lot.

“I’ve only got twenty bucks, and I was going to save it for the ride home. I’d rather have a decent thing to eat without making Zed pay for it than…” Avery leaned in closer to a little figurine carved out of wood.  It looked like a fetus, and it curled up tighter into its fetal position as she drew closer.

“If that was your one purchase, I’d wonder about you,” Fernanda said.  “Pregnancy charm.  You brew tea with it in the steeper ball or kettle.  If there’s an iota of a chance they could get pregnant, they will.”

“Huh,” Avery replied, leaning back and stepping back from that… whole table.  Not that there was an iota of a chance.

Fernanda went on, “In some circles, it’s the only kind of card you can play.  It’s more useful for putting someone you know into a compromising position than for drinking yourself, because the pregnancy comes on hard and heavy.  Depletes the body to make things happen.”

“We have a variety of materials, miss, some made of softer wood, to be gentler or subtler than others,” the seller said.  “Some…”

He didn’t finish that last sentence, but did touch a charm that looked like it was carved out of obsidian, edges sharp.  The fetus carving had three heads.

Avery was in the middle of trying to formulate an appropriately horrified response without offending the Fae seller when Fernanda turned on her.  “You’re really not buying anything?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe something will catch my eye?”

“Something for your familiar?  New clothes, maybe?” Fernanda asked, pairing the question with a bit of a tone and an up-down glance that carried about five layers of meaning, four of them negative.

Avery’s hand went to her shoulder, where Snowdrop was fast asleep, tired from being up most of the night with Cherry.  “I like my clothes, Fernanda.  We’re trying to get along, remember?  I think you’re getting sidetracked from that.”

“A lot of people dressed up.  Even your friend Verona.  And you’re wearing-”

“Still getting sidetracked there, Fern,” Avery said, laying a hand on her ‘Wild Side’ tank top.  She’d paired it with jeans and running shoes.

“Call me Fernanda, please,” Fernanda replied, arch.  “Mis-naming me is a surefire way to poison our interaction here.”

“And dissing my clothes isn’t?”  Avery asked.  She and Fernanda moved away from the table.  Ulysse and Eloise were violating Estrella’s rule about people not pairing up with those they knew, and were talking together, only really stopping students from going down the stairs at the end of the narrow bazaar or visiting one or two booths at the end, which they’d apparently decided were inappropriate or dangerous.

“Come, let’s shop more,” Fernanda said, taking Avery’s hand, and the way she took it was by bumping shoulders, her arm winding around Avery’s to make it impossible to do anything but walk shoulder to shoulder.

Verona wasn’t looking, was she?  This was just Fernanda being Fernanda, wasn’t it?

Fernanda leaned into Avery, confiding, “Just… do yourself a favor, and never wear a sports bra when you’re not actively playing sports.”

“That’s a bit creepy.”  Avery unwound her arm from Fernanda’s.

“It’s honest, and our instructions were not to get along or be nice, Avery.  They were to improve.  My experience in life has been that nice takes too long, and we meet too many people in this crazy world of ours.  The best approach we can safely manage is to part ways having both benefited for the meeting.”

“Being nice costs nothing and helps with that.”

“That’s… so like your top there, as sentiments go.”

“See, if you just came and hung out and were nice instead of… doing that, it’d be way easier, Fernanda, and it’d leave me in a better mood.”

“Moods come and go.  The last time I met someone who was properly nice to me and that simple smile or ‘how are you’ actually made my day?  I was a child, Avery.  Now I know it for the chore it is, I know it’s strategic and how nice a person is… social calculus.  And it does cost, to take the time, to put the energy into that.  The top, a simple ‘this is me’ identity stamped on it instead of conveying that same message from the design of the thing?  It’s childish.  Like a man’s suit, the closer you get to the top and the older you get, the more you come to appreciate the subtle tells.  I’m trying to catch you up.”

Avery shook her head.  She wasn’t sure how to react, so she didn’t react beyond that.  She had never interacted with another human just as… prickly was the wrong word.  Weird?  Off?  Anti-her, as Fernanda was?

“Just don’t do yourself a disservice,” Fernanda said, as if it were the last word and she’d won or something.

“It does me a service if I’m more comfortable this way.  Since when is this your business?  Or anyone’s?”

“Since far too long ago,” Fernanda said, affecting a fake aristocratic tone.  “That’s ladies’ fashion for you.  So much of it serves us up on a platter for the world to feast on.  Sorry.”

“Back in my homeschooling group, I was even more of a tomboy than I am now, and there was nothing about the way I dressed that deserved some of the creepiness I got from a couple of the dads and relatives of some of the kids I was with.  Said stuff I didn’t even understand until this year and I thought back on it.  People think they have the right to get up in our business even if they have no right to.”

“Boys and men.  I think we all deal with that.  But that’s fair.  What if I said it serves us up, but we can use it to give and to take away?”

“Still real creepy, Fernanda, and that thing I said about people getting up in our business when they have no right to?  I’ve told you this thing you’re doing isn’t great, creepy even, and you’re still doing it.  It’s not just boys and men.”

“Putting me in the same box as those homeschool dads of yours?”

“Huh,” Fernanda said, looking like she was considering that.  Then she smiled a bit.  “Well, if there’s any food for thought in the mix, I hope it makes up for it.  I was going to buy you a top.  Can I still do that?”

Weird.  Avery couldn’t find mental footing, and the more time she was spending with Fernanda, the more she was coming to suspect that was Fernanda’s thing.  It recontextualized a lot of other stuff.

That, and that smile- was Fernanda enjoying this back and forth?

“We’ll see,” Avery said, wary.  She reminded herself that there was a whole market around them, with Faerie spying on them, and that America was still over there…

America was looking at Lucy, right now.  She was restless, but her partner seemed insistent that she stay close to him, and he wasn’t moving around a lot.

“You knew what the charms did,” Avery observed.  “You’ve been here before?”

“I’ve been, but it was to what Esty called the tourist traps.  Some of the same things, but five times the price.  My family dabbled in manipulation and politics, before Chase found his niche.  With that specialty, you have to know a little something about the Fae, get that glamour supply.”

A table of fruits and vegetables, breads, some in unusual combinations; bread with certain fruit in it, still fresh and whole despite being baked in, some fruits mingled with other fruits, ciders and juices that looked like potions more than anything else.  A woman who looked more human sat with two eerily well-behaved children.  One of the children was wiping down a glass bottle, working the cloth into the grooves.

Avery considered that her mental bar for child behavior was excited homeschool kids at group meets, Kerry, and Declan.

“Have a taste for free?” the woman asked.  “First sale is half off, if you’ll pledge to come back to me for more, should you decide to buy more.”

Fernanda steered Avery away from that table before she could respond.

“I’ll note I’m doing all of the work here, trying to improve things,” Fernanda said, as they passed by a table of small butterfly-winged fairies in glass bottles.  All dried, browned and withered except for the scintillating wings and details to hair and dress.  Avery frowned.

She was happier to move on to another table, where the materials were simpler.  Papers, all decorated at the edges.

“I don’t know what to say, Fernanda,” Avery admitted.  “You don’t want nice.”

“I do, I simply don’t believe in nice for niceness’s sake.”

“I guess… I know things are hard.  And I’m leaving, and I don’t think I’m coming back to this school.  Verona might try but if you want to tell me something or vent or anything like that… no need to act, pretend, or put on a mask, then I think I’m a pretty good choice.”

“Would you swear to keep my confidence?”

“Unless someone’s safety was at stake or I was at risk of being forsworn, somehow.”

Fernanda gave her an appraising look, like she might have been about to say something, then said, “No.”

“What have we got?” Fernanda asked the nearest seller.  She tapped the table.  “What’s this?”

He pushed a cocoon in a bottle forward.  “Eat it, it’ll make you sick for exactly a day.  The worms will spin up phlegm and bad symptoms.  Rashes, cold sweats, bleary eyes.  Then they die.  You’ll be right as rain after.  If you don’t give them water.”

“Indigestion?” Fernanda asked.

“No indigestion.  I can’t bear it,” Fernanda said.

“A touch more expensive.”

The seller tapped out some salts into his hand, uncorked the bottle, then deposited the salts and re-corked it, before giving it a shake.  They broke up into vapor that swirled within.

“Wait, I think we glossed over the warning.  What happens if you give them water?” Avery asked.  “What qualifies?”

Fernanda sighed, impatient.

“If you drink water then the worms will cocoon and multiply inside you and you’ll have ten times the symptoms of anything similar you might find on earth, with worms as long as you are crawling out of you.  You’ll have to avoid water for longer, as well, to be sure you’re rid of them.”

“Thank you,” Fernanda said, leaning forward, opening a little purse to dispense some glass beads.  She held her hand back before paying.  “Give me a twenty percent discount and I’ll keep shopping.”

She handed the beads, took the vial, and added it to her shopping.

“Trust me, Avery, there are days I’d rather be sick with fae worms in me than dealing with certain people.”  She tapped the table by some glass beads wrapped in what looked like black gossamer.  “Stolen beauty?”

“A keen eye, miss.  I know many practitioners of Fae arts like to use it to steer their children’s appearance.  Or their own.  You’re young, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Fernanda said.  To Avery, she said, “It’s a vanity thing.  It can give you a boost in a pinch, for an important event, but it’s most often used to make sure children grow up handsome and pretty.  I knew someone who had to have one with breakfast, one with dinner.  Her older brother didn’t turn out well.  It won’t change what you have for very long, but they say it influences what you get, drawing on what your genes provide.  Might be a placebo.  But it provides some peace of mind.”

“I think I’d have more peace of mind knowing I’m the real me.”

“Oh honey.  You’re naturally pretty, so of course you get to say that.”

“When buying stock like this, which has a limited shelf life, you should purchase it like you would fruit.  They push the old stock that’s close to expiry to the front, because that’s what we reach for first.  It’s a simple trick that’s as valid in the Faerie realms as it is in our world.”

Fernanda selected ten or so, then paid.

“Why is it called stolen beauty?”

“You have to get it from somewhere, don’t you?”

Avery felt acutely uncomfortable.

America was watching her, she realized.  And so were the children they’d seen earlier, who were walking up the edges of the rooftops, where brickwork jutted out and made stair-like ascents.

Fernanda, too, was looking at her, when Avery looked away from America.

“It’s a once a week thing, for me,” Fernanda said.  “For the next few months.  Do you want any?  It’s meant to make sure your nose grows straight and your face doesn’t get too long as you age.  Among other things.”

“I also have lost voices,” the seller pitched.  “Knock back a draught and change your voice for someone else’s.”

He licked a finger and rubbed it on a bottle he kept closer to himself.  It made a murmuring sound in a deep man’s voice, words indistinct.

“How do they keep?” Fernanda asked.

“Keep the glass clean.  If it’s left dirty, they’ll start to die, they won’t last so long after a quaff.  Expect one good conversation out of them, as is.”

“Meaning if the glass is dirty, the voice will die at the tail end of the conversation?” Fernanda asked.

“Two men’s voices, two women’s.  I’ll leave it to you to select voices different from my own.”

“You’re sure buying a lot,” Avery noted.

“What do you have waiting for you when you return home?” Fernanda asked.

“An… awkward conversation, I imagine.  Some complicated practice stuff.  New people, a… crisis.”

“You should go in armed.  Select your tools, be prepared for circumstances.  When I go home, I expect to find my family in utter shambles.  We raised ourselves up with my older brother’s help and then we bet it all on the wrong horse.  Or Chase did, and I suppose I played my part in him going that way.”

“It’s reality.  I can’t control what my family does.  I can only… fake a phone call, to deflect and drop a tidbit of information that nudges them one way.  Or happen to be sick one day they want me to meet a man they’re thinking about marrying me off to.”

“That’s so horrible, that you have to.”

“Always have to have my guard up against that sort of thing.  Always a card in my back pocket, so to speak.”

“Lucy and I talk about always having our guard up, how exhausting it is.  Verona feels that exhaustion too, kind of, but that’s more dealing with a crummy dad all the time, you know?  But that’s different from… a door that your family just decides to close for you forever.  Love.”

“Mm hmm.  Your friend Lucy’s black, so I think there’s always that little worry for her.  The chance someone decides to come after her is just that much higher.  Getting killed or hurt closes a much bigger door.”

Huh.  Empathy?  Avery raised her eyebrows.

“And you?” Fernanda asked.  She walked over to a booth and leaned over. “Can I touch this?”

“If you pay,” a very narrow old man with horns told her, touching two fingers to the table.

Fernanda paid with a marble, then lifted up a top off a mannequin.  The mannequin shifted its weight, resettling into a more neutral posture.

It was sheer, shimmery, and a kind of halter style, tying up around the neck and draping forward while leaving the back completely open.  And Fernanda laid it across Avery’s front.

“Is it a you you could become?  Sir, do you have a looking mirror?”

The old fae with the horns pointed at a cloth draped over something.

He held up two fingers again.

“Is that an amount?” Avery asked, as Fernanda laid a marble down, then dragged her over.  “Two…?”

“It’s a size,” Fernanda said.  “Width of two fingers.  If the fingers face you that’s one denomination.  If it’s the back of the hand, fingernails facing you, that’s another, steeper denomination.”

“Interesting.  And the mirror?”

The old man pulled the cloth off the mirror.  It was framed by wood, and the reflection was vaguely tinted blue.  A bit foggy and scratched up.

Fernanda held the top up against Avery’s front, and the Avery in the mirror stood wearing the top, without Fernanda’s hand in the way.  Snowdrop was there too, but only the general outline.  The rest of her billowed smoke, pouring off, and her eyes glowed.

Avery gave Snowdrop a stroke, and Snowdrop stretched.  The reflection of her did much the same.

Fernanda held up the three stolen beauties, and as the focus shifted, she stood there, looking… a whole lot nicer.

“Pose,” Fernanda said, leaning in closer.  “And hold one.”

Avery’s instinct was to do something like stand on one leg, like when she stood on a telephone pole, but she played along, mimicking Fernanda, turning in close.  Holding the stolen beauty made it look like she was wearing some nice makeup in the reflection.

She was startled as the picture was taken, because mirror-Fernanda wasn’t holding anything.

She caught a glimpse of Verona and turned away.

“I’ll send you a copy,” Fernanda said, to Avery, before turning to the shopkeeper.  “Are there other settings?”

“I’m not rich.  There’s a backside.  Tilts forward.”

“Perfect,” Fernanda said, satisfied.  “Please.”

He tapped the table, and she paid.

“You’re putting a lot of money toward this when I’m not interested in the top.”

“It’s not about the top, Avery,” Fernanda said, exasperated.

The old man rotated the mirror, flipping it around in the wooden mount to show the other side.  The tint was purple, the background blurry and dark and they weren’t any of the three things.

No, they were older, by maybe ten years.  A twenty-three year old Avery wore the top, as well as a resized version of her regular jeans.  Tattoos decorated one arm, shoulder, and disappeared behind the fabric at her side.

“It’s a look forward, not the look forward,” Fernanda said.

Fernanda was pretty, but her clothes had changed, like the style she wore in the future shifted.  Showing off cleavage, her hair longer and styled.  Her expression harder.

Snowdrop stretched at her shoulder, claws touching but not scratching bare shoulder, and that made Avery put a hand up, ready to catch her if she fell, which she never did.  And it made her check the mirror.

Avery and reflected Avery’s hand closed, then opened, reaching, hesitated.

When she stopped hesitating, she took Snowdrop, indicating for Fernanda to move the top away from her chest, then lifted Snowdrop around to the front, cradled in her arms.  The opossum stirred, and Avery hugged her close, kissing her between the eyes.  Snowdrop, eyes closed, tried for a lick in response but missed and hit only air.

It hadn’t hit home, until that… absence.

She felt so stupid, so irresponsible, not thinking about this more.  Thinking… what, that opossums were out in the wild so that simple internet search on lifespan might be skewed?

“I guess we’re not taking this,” Fernanda said, in a tone that bordered on disgusted.  She hung up the top.  It only made every single one of the feelings Avery was dealing with flare up, defensive, guarded, annoyed, protective.

Was that a facet of what Estrella had talked about?  The way the fae could subtly work in wedges between relationships?

“Snowdrop was missing.  Was that what Estrella talked about?” Avery whispered.  “Preying on weaknesses, and stuff?  Subtle tricks?”

“I don’t think they could do that with a familiar.”

“She’s a boon companion, not a familiar.  It’s not… formalized.”

“Well,” Fernanda said, “I guess you should get on that.”

Avery hadn’t been sure if she would take the demesne or the familiar, and she’d been leaning toward the demesne, because it worked on so many levels.  But if it was a question of saving Snowdrop, tying Snow’s lifespan to her own, then there really was no question.

“Guess so.  Frig,” Avery muttered.

“You seem to have taken away something from this shopping trip of ours.  Something good?”

“Something I needed.”

“Good.  Then I’m glad I spent the money.  I’m glad you three picked this place.  Good move,” Fernanda declared.

“Was it?  Estrella suggested it.”

“Almost everyone will be pleased at the chance to go shopping.  Most other courts would be hit or miss.  It’s good politics,” Fernanda said, with just as much confidence.  She put her hand at the crook of Avery’s elbow and swung her bag a bit with her other hand.  “I think you need to think more like a practitioner.”

“The way some practitioners think scares me.”

“Good.  You’re going into a crisis, lots of new Others, and your focus is on the food of the trip home?  Come now.”

“I- I wouldn’t even know what to buy.”

“What’s your style?  How does it fit with your friends?”

“Verona improvises, she’s really good at some parts of practice.  Finding answers.  Lucy’s got some of the combat stuff down, and showmanship stuff, she’s really good at that.  I’m… I like to think I’m good at exploring places.  Not so much here.”

“We’re all paired up and restricted to one place.  I bet if you had free rein you could navigate the Bright Fall well enough.”

“I’d like to think so.  Just… a lot of it doesn’t translate well to helping my friends out, sometimes.  I think I might be the worst straight-up practitioner of us.”

“What about your style, outside of practice?  If you were never practitioners?”

“We’d never have met.”

“Let’s say you had.”

“Then… I’m the nicest?  That might be mean to say, and it doesn’t really matter to you, does it?  You don’t think nice for nice’s sake matters, right?”

This was weird, being arm in arm with an objectively pretty girl, one who was touchy-feely, on what could be called a shopping date…

“Lucy’s…” Avery said, looking.  She found Lucy, talking to Kass and some of the boys.  “Mission-focused.  Tackles the issues.  Verona’s… she pulls back, waits.”

“Pulls back like you do?  Goes places?”

“That’s the practice and I… I don’t do that.  I’m not good at articulating this.”

“I should probably be wary of telling you too much, right?  Thinking like a practitioner?”

“You’re leaving, right?  We might never cross paths again.  So it doesn’t matter, by your logic.”

“That’s cagey enough I feel like I’m being manipulated.  I’m not sure… what are you and me doing here?”

“And I’m having fun.  You were playing sports with Corbin and the boys.  You were allegedly pretty good.”

“I don’t know these things.  No interest.”

Avery made a small, exasperated sound.

“It’s winging a ball or a puck around with lots of rules and next to no relevance to everyday life.”

“It’s set me up okay for some of the practice stuff I like.”

“Fair.  But my sport is… hearts.  More relevant, I think.  Especially when you might get married off with just a few days warning, like my cousin did.”

“Ah.  Yeah, I mean, I can see that, but I feel like we’re dancing around… you know I’m into girls, right?”

“I did not.  I’m not, for the record.”

“Okay,” Avery said, a little confused, because this had felt a bit like a date.  Fernanda’s hand still rested on the crook of her elbow, as she carried Snowdrop.

“Are you into me?” Fernanda asked.

“I’ve dropped my opinion of your taste.  Who are you into?”

“I liked… my old classmate, but you wouldn’t know her.  Clementine, a bit.  She showed up that other night.  Cute hair and she looked… huggable.  This is awkward.”

“Anyone here, in this crowd?  To give me a sense of things?  This does change the top I’d recommend.”

Avery looked.  Fernanda was so aggressively back-and-forth, playing this game that Avery really didn’t, that she felt like she hadn’t focused nearly enough on her surroundings.  She looked and scanned the crowd, reminding herself of where her friends and America were.

Her eyes fell on a tall woman, tattooed, with clothes draped down from a single piece of metal that had a hole for the head and draped across the shoulders.  A bit muscular.  She had a little boy with her.  A son?

Fernanda leaned her head over, to match her gaze roughly to Avery’s.  “Huh.”

“I forfeit, don’t know what to say.  Follow your heart.”

“My heart’s going nowhere good anytime soon.  I have it on… shady authority that there’s no girls for me back home.  Or there wasn’t.”

“Are you into boys?  You didn’t specify.”

“Does Ulysse do anything for you?”

Avery craned her head around, looking.  Ulysse was objectively nice to look at, sure, but… “Nah.”

“Safe to say you’re not into boys then.”

“Is he enchanted or something?”

“He’s not.  He’s a fine specimen of boy-ness, that’s all.  So there’s nobody for you at home, you like running away to explore places.  What if you didn’t go home?”

“And went where?  Stayed at the Blue Heron?”

“I’ve got family.  Family I love, and responsibilities.”

“Okay.  I’m only asking, I do know about family and responsibility, believe me.  So that leaves us to wind our way back through the conversation…”

“I can’t really remember what we were talking about before.”

“Another skill for the practiced practitioner to know.  It helps to keep tabs on these things.  We were talking about your style and how you approach the world.  I’m getting a feel for what you want, and what you don’t want.  Can you articulate what you were saying now?  The difference between you and Verona?”

“I… touch ground.  If we’re all going in our separate directions then I guess Verona’s trying to reach the clouds.  I’m going on trips, but I come back in the end.  Hopefully, anyway.”

“Departures and arrivals?” Fernanda asked.

“Come on,” Fernanda said, pulling on Avery’s arm.  “Grace, important to you or no?”

“Not really.  Nice sometimes.”

They reached a stall where a number of Fae were examining boots and shoes in a variety of styles.

“Dancing shoes, they keep you dancing for the full duration of the song, whether you want to or not.  Running shoes, same idea, they take you to the destination,” Fernanda said.  “Don’t dance with a song without end and don’t pick a destination your body can’t manage.”

“Why would you want that?”

“A lot of practitioners will buy them.  It’s not to ensnare others,” Fernanda said.  “Sometimes your family sets you a task and you have no other choice but to follow through.  If Nicolette was assigned a task by Alexander and she had to be there by noon the next day, it can make sense to have the shoes.  If her car crashes she can say the word and ensure she gets there.  She might pass out or damage her feet but she’ll be there.”

The mention of Nicolette was something of an escape.  “You get along with Nicolette.”

“Keys,” Fernanda said, as they reached a booth with a number of keys.  Script in a loopy writing Avery couldn’t read was penned out on papers beside each key, which was spaced a set distance from the others.

“Fernanda, you’re focusing a lot on me, but I’m not that interested in buying some magic item that’s a perfect fit for me.”

“I am,” Fernanda said, firmly.  “So shush.”

“Okay, not objecting, if that’s what you want to do, but why are you being nice to me?”

“Why is it so important that one hockey team scores the most points?”

“Goals, not points, and… it isn’t, I guess.”

“But people pray, hands to the sky, full-hearted with faith, that their team wins.  Right?”

“Yeah.  You’re right.”

“This is my game, and this is how I win, I win people over, or I destroy them, and I’m tired of destruction right now,” Fernanda said, before addressing the key salesman.  “English?”

“Anyone translate?  I’ll pay?” she offered.

“Silas!” Fernanda called out.  Avery winced, as did one or two Fae.

It was that leap, that sudden swing from one tone and manner of address to another, abrasive one that threw Avery a bit.

And Fernanda was smiling.

Silas walked over, arms folded.  “Avery, your friend Lucy and Estrella are negotiating prices about questions you wanted to ask.”

“Oh, do they need me right now?”

“Don’t you dare,” Fernanda said.  “I want you to buy something.”

“Not just yet.  What did you want?”

“Can you translate?” Fernanda asked.

“Which ones are you interested in?”

He made a face, but he pointed.  “Opens any door to open flame.”

“To… you just put it in a keyhole, turn, and you get a furnace on the other side?” Avery asked.

“That’s what it reads as.”

Avery could picture opening a door as something charged at her, and letting it charge through.  Which would be a pretty extreme way of doing things, and reminded her of Bristow walking into the kitchen.

“Plug this one into an animal, and through a combination of left and right turns, designate what beast it should unlock into.”

Verona might like that one.  “Does it work on humans?”

“No.  This one sets a trap.  Spring-loaded spikes, flame, darts.  Doesn’t work on doors, only other things with keys.”

“We’re looking for departures and arrivals.  Ways to get places.”

“Or get home,” Avery said.

A faerie bought a key from a pile of similar-looking ones.  All bone white, with the head of the key a white flower inset into a ring, the teeth twisted.  Silas indicated those.  “Escape keys.”

“To find the way home.  Or get home, depending.  If you’re stuck somewhere, they’re a way back.  Looks like he sells locks you can carry with you and mechanically install, so you have somewhere to stick these keys.  If the way home is easy it opens a door and you can step through.  You’ll be back.  If not, it breaks the door or wall or whatever, and you use the way the pieces land or point to find the best direction to take.”

“That’s actually pretty great,” Avery said.

“Hot ticket item, it seems,” Fernanda said.

It was true, two had been sold in the time they were standing there.

“How much?” Avery asked.

Silas switched to another language, that rolled off his tongue.  The seller replied.

“How much do you have?”

Avery held up the twenty.

“You’d need three times that.”

“For a key that’s selling that fast?”

“It’s high in demand,” Fernanda answered.  �Let me.”

“I don’t want to owe you-”

“You don’t and you won’t.  Thank you, Silas.”

“I… here,” Fernanda said, plucking the twenty from Avery’s hand, then handing over two more.  “There.”

Silas provided Fernanda the money, and she bought the key, handing it over.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Avery asked.  “And don’t tell me it’s a game.  You’re spending money, you wanted to buy me a top.  That’s not… you don’t know me, it doesn’t matter if I’m going to be gone.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.  I’ve got my family’s money to spend and I might not when this summer is over.  I want to have good things to take away from this summer.  That aren’t Alexander dying and my family being ruined.”

“And… you were friends with Laila.”

Fernanda looked aside, searching the crowd with her eyes, and almost absently said, “Don’t spoil this.”

“I’m not wanting to spoil it, but I was there and if you wanted to talk about it…”

“I don’t.  I really don’t.  You don’t have to reciprocate, you do realize that?  You don’t have to get involved.  Trying might get you hurt someday.  You got into the thing with the school and the fight between headmasters and you didn’t have to.”

“Our hands were forced some.”

“They were, probably, I did hear Verona shouting at Raymond about that.  But… start looking for other ways.  You don’t have to save me or help me.”

“It’d be nice if there was a way to.”

“Nice for niceness’s sake is meaningless, remember?  You can’t.  You’re not all powerful, you’re not even that important.  Do your thing, enjoy what parts of life you can.  I kinda hope that tough conversation that’s waiting for you goes okay.  I kinda hope that crisis goes okay.  I don’t care that much but it’d be good if the world sucked a little less.”

“Okay.  Yeah, I just… it was cool, hanging out.”

“Naturally.  I’m good at this.”

“And getting the tour, seeing this through your eyes.  Getting a few wake up calls or some food for thought,” Avery said, stroking Snowdrop.  “You’d be a good teacher or counselor one day, I bet.”

“I’m not sure about that, but thanks for saying so.  Your friend Lucy’s waving you over.”

Avery nodded, pocketing the key.  The teeth of the old fashioned key had a way of snagging on the fabric inside her jeans.

Lucy, Tymon, Silas, and Estrella were standing by a booth.  Estrella was talking with one of the Host brothers about something they were buying, apparently.

“How are you getting by?” Lucy asked.

“Spent my snack money for the ride home, but I got a key that might save my ass in a pinch.”

“I’ll lend you money if you need it.”

“Mayb- sure.  Where’s Verona?”

“Shopping with Raquel.  Get everything you wanted, Fernanda?  That’s a full bag.”

“I’m not even halfway done.  I’m leaving nothing to chance.”

Avery kind of appreciated, on a level, that the shopping trip had paused.  Fernanda was intense and demanded focus, and the shopping was dangerous on a level, and she’d had little time to appreciate the scenery.  The people.

The kids from the street where they’d arrived were up on the rooftops.  They’d been tracked here and it felt… it felt like being stalked because they were being stalked. The distinction was that she had no idea if the stalking was something dangerous or if it was benign.  Were Fae just interested in them because they were human, strangers in a strange place?

The people shopping barely seemed to care.  If anything, it felt a bit like they were in the way.  Which was weird, when so many Fae were so overt, cunning with words.  How different would this be in the tourist trap areas?

The large muscled woman with the little boy had lifted the boy up to one shoulder, where he sat with room to spare, which was really cool.  He was carrying the shopping.  Rolls of cloth.  Maybe she was making another outfit like the one she was wearing.

One old and stooped merchant packed up his booth, folding up a cloth in a way that seemed to not care about all the portraits and pictures that were beneath.  It folded into a one-foot by one-foot square, with what Avery suspected was about a hundred pounds of stuff inside.  Someone else began setting up in the same booth as he departed, carrying his stool in one hand and the cloth in another.

“Can’t make heads or tails of this,” Tymon said.  “Feels like you have to ask about every item, but they almost get annoyed if you try.”

“You pick up an idea of it,” Fernanda replied.  “Living charms tie into life.  Fruit that looks artificial, with grapes that look like jewels?  Appearance-focused, or status.  Ephemeral baubles for ephemeral effects.  A solid, inflexible key for solid, inflexible effect.  Structure.”

“Fernanda’s actually really good at this,” Avery said.  “Some past experience, though.”

“That was something Laila was good at,” Tymon said.

Avery made a small gesture.  Tymon didn’t elaborate.

Avery glanced at the woman in the booth, with blackboard-black skin marked with fine gold curls, waves, and decoration like expensive china.  The clothes she wore weren’t anything too fancy.

Verona hurried over, trying to fix a strap that was falling off her shoulder.  Raquel followed at a more leisurely pace.

“Here she is,” Lucy said.

Verona looked a bit out of sorts.  Was that because of the America situation?

America was looking impatient, and frankly looked a bit bored.

It would be weird if Verona was more alert for that stuff than Avery, for once.  Which made Avery feel guilty.

She leaned in closer, whispering, “Keeping an eye out for America?”

“Hopefully we’re okay, between all of us,” Lucy commented, despite not being close enough to hear the whisper normally.  She glanced at the booth, then Estrella.  Avery did the same.

The woman at the booth took that as her cue.  “Are the questions and answers both for all ears present?”

Verona looked at Avery, while Lucy frowned.

“Do you want to go for a short walk, Fernanda?” Raquel asked.

“I guess, is that okay?” Fernanda asked.

“Yes,” Estrella told them.

Tymon stood up, stretching a bit, and walked over another two booths.  Silas followed after him, as if keeping within a couple of strides.

“You want a decisive means of dealing with the High Summer and Dark Fall Courts?”

“Yes,” Estrella said.

Their reasons for coming here had been layered.  On the one level, like Fernanda had said, it was politics.

On another level, it was strategy.  High Fall sold answers.  Remedies for afflictions, ways out, ways in, ways to be pretty.  They needed answers.  Among those answers, they needed some stuff on Maricica, and who better to reflect on Dark Fall than Bright Fall?  High Summer was simpler, but if there were ways to deal with a Guilherme betrayal, or a way to change up Guilherme’s situation, maybe that was for sale here?

Like with the key and a possible escape from the paths, even a hint in the right direction could be vital.

“Estrella,” Verona said.  “Jarvis looks confused.  I think America ran off.”

Estrella turned, looking.

“And just saying, she kinda sorta might be wanting to start some crap with us,” Avery said.

“I told her,” Lucy added.

“I knew before.  America is many things but she’s not subtle.  Silas?  Fan out, notify the other apprentices.  Students should gather at the… where was America last?  With Jarvis?  Opposite corner then, southeast.  Close to here.  Send Jarvis to me.  You three, stay here for a moment.  Tell students they can shop for small items, but nothing more, until Silas or myself are back.”

“Can we ask our questions?” Lucy asked.

“It’s why you’re here, might as well.”

Lucy took the money she’d pooled from each of them.  Minus the fast food they’d grabbed and money Avery’s parents had sent her, it was seventy five bucks in total.  Lucy handed it to the woman at the booth.

“Ask your three questions,” the woman at the booth said, as she put the money on a shelf beneath the table.  “For each, you get one answer you want, and one you didn’t expect.”

“Nine gifts from a dark fall Faerie, outlined here,” Lucy said, handing over a paper.  “Three traps among them.”

“The challenge?  Clarify.”

“In a set and strict contest, we have the right to challenge the result.  Depending, the opposition may have to prove that it’s doable.”

“And the disguise glamour?” the woman asked.

“We thought that might be one of the traps,” Avery said.  “I was shown how to dress myself up to be a boy.”

Off to the side, Zed and Sol hurried over, guiding students.  He urged them back, but Verona walked over to whisper to him, and he remained where he was, a distance away, ushering students.  Brie guided others, as did Eloise and Ulysse.

“I can tell you where the traps likely lie, but I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with the answer.”

“Tell us,” Lucy said.  “We have suspicions about two, from past incidents.”

“The nettlewisp and the animal form.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said.  “The nettlewisp can get stuck if it’s not triggered, so long as it’s attached to us.”

“More than that.  If left too long on something unattended, it can seize the item for itself, making it impossible to retrieve.”

“And the cat form,” Verona said.  “I’ve had a bunch of Faerie force me back into it.”

“What occurs with repetition can become expectation.  You make it easier to do to you every time you do it yourself.”

“There should be a third trap,” Avery said, careful to avoid asking a question.

The woman reached out, and Avery extended her hand.  She glanced back, nervous both because something from America might be happening now and the woman might be up to something.

The woman held a single charm from the charm bracelet between her fingers.

“The like-to-like charm,” Avery murmured.

“You give up a bit of claim to the person who gave you the glamour, every time you make the change.  They could take these items from you in a critical moment.”

“Really good to know,” Lucy said.

“And it won’t matter.”

“It won’t matter much that you know.  Seeds are set and you can answer each of these traps, and it won’t matter.  That’s the unexpected answer.  If a twenty-five dollar answer were all it took to beat her, then she would have chosen a more effective path.”

“How did you know it was a she?” Lucy asked, suspicious.

“Because I know things,” the woman said.  “I earn my keep doing this, inferring and deciphering.  What are your other questions?  How to beat the High Summer faerie if he becomes your enemy?  How to beat this young Dark Fall fae if she becomes your foe?”

The students were chattering, a distance away.  Not in earshot, but close, and some had filtered away from the main huddle, to continue shopping or to talk to the apprentices who were keeping them corralled.

“Something like that,” Avery told the woman.

“Those answers will be even less helpful.  Focus on the one, the traps, or think of another thing to ask about.”

“Like?” Verona asked, just as agitated as Avery.  She had her back to the woman, and was watching the surroundings.

“Do you want to make that your question?”

“Would it be smart to?” Verona asked.

“Only if you’re inflexible of mind and short of imagination.  You could come up with better yourselves.”

A number of the Faerie seemed bothered by the students being grouped up and blocking the way, and were talking to Eloise and Ulysse in a heated tone.  Or Eloise and Ulysse were talking to the Faerie, upset about what had happened to the goblin princess.

“What are we not getting about the traps?” Avery asked.

“That she has her traps for you, in the midst.  Three simple traps that she may use to foil or distract you.  Inconveniences.  A nettlewisp you can’t put away, a like-to-like charm that might cost you ownership, temporary or permanent, and an animal form that makes your own shape harder to hold onto when you’re dusted in glamour or cat hair.  But there are traps there that are from you, for yourselves.”

“Telling me I’ll be alone?” Avery asked.

“No.  Unkind in the moment, but it’s given as a gift, I believe.  One that may serve her as much as it serves you.  She’s set your trajectories by handing you tools.  Telling you that you may easily become Other and that you were chosen for that reason.  Giving you a way of putting your mark on an argument and making it yours, when it’s rare you would want the argument and its consequences.  Giving you another face to wear, so you’re left more certain that you want your own individuality, your own Self.”

She met Avery’s eyes as she said that last bit.

“Is that a trap?” Avery asked.  “They’re traps in another way?”

“Only if you let them be.  Knives put into children’s hands, knowing they may either put them to use or, more likely, do themselves or others harm.  This isn’t the answer to your question.  It is good backing for that answer.”

“Backing?” Verona asked.

“She’s young, as Fae tend to be.  She hasn’t yet learned patience.  You may be among her first targets, as these things go, and as a result, she’s-”

“Blown her wad?” Verona asked.

“-Played her full hand, when one card would do.  This is the critical takeaway from the traps, and the many gifts.  That the fae you’re dealing with has little experience with humankind.”

“She was born in Dark Fall.  That’s apparently rare,” Avery said.

“It is.  I would imagine she has toyed with humans before but she’s never had a proper target fall into her hands.”

“Except maybe Charles,” Lucy mused.

“Charles is such an easy target it’s like shooting dead fish in a barrel full of bullets,” Verona said.

“You’re such a poet sometimes,” Lucy said, dry.

“She may still be learning how humans move and react.  It’s experimentation more than manipulation.  Observation more than infiltration.  You may find it easier to slip her interference so long as you stay close to humans.”

“Daniel,” Lucy said.  “He hurt her.  Caught her off guard.”

“That’s your standard answer.  The answer you won’t expect is that I can infer who she is.  There are ways to find out the totality of her past.”

“What do we make our third question?” Verona asked.  “How to get those answers?”

“We might want to make it fast,” Lucy said.  “I think our classmates are restless.”

“I told Zed Estrella gave us the a-ok for this,” Verona clarified.

“I don’t want to push it too far, and I feel like we’re sticking out as easy targets, so long as we’re standing over here and the rest of our classmates are over there.”

“We should ask about Guilherme,” Avery said.

“The High Summer Fae is falling to Winter,” Lucy told the faerie woman behind the table.  “Is there a way to stop it?”

“Besides that,” Lucy told her.

“Decline is inevitable.”

“Can we delay it?  If it’s motivating some awful behavior-”

The faerie woman was already shaking her head.

Avery thought of Snowdrop again.  Gone from her shoulder.  She stroked her pet.

“If he’s as close as I infer, then no.  The delays won’t be meaningful.  What is meaningful is how things sit toward the end.  The roads available to him are narrowing down to one.  If you know what stories remain to him, then be mindful of where he is and what he does as the last story ends.  That may be him forevermore.  That should be the expected sort of answer to the question.”

As the Carmine Beast thing resolves? Avery wondered.

“What about the unexpected?” Verona asked.

“Unexpected?  He will remain himself much as you know him now.  And it will be harder than you expect to deal with.”

“That’s not great,” Lucy said.

“No.  A fall to winter rarely is.  You should go to your classmates.”

“You were more upfront with us than a lot of Fae we’ve dealt with,” Lucy noted.

“Many here are.  Your teacher chose this location for a reason.”

Sensing that things were winding down, Zed waved them over.

“This place is weird,” Avery said.

“I saw a little kid in a cage and I have no idea how to digest that,” Verona said.  “For all I know he was the real master, it was all an act, and if I’d done something about it then I’d be in deep trouble.”

“You got what you came for?” Zed asked, as they joined the group.

“We’re going down the road a little bit, to be a little less in the way.  Other than that, we’re staying put like Estrella told us to.”

“I asked some questions at that booth,” Corbin said.  “I’m not sure I got my money’s worth.”

“She seemed okay,” Lucy said.  “Felt like it was on the money, and Estrella backed her.”

“Yeah, well, we’re currently waiting for Estrella to find a lost or runaway student, and if a student who got put in charge loses a student right after the whole thing with Bristow and Belanger, then I think some parents are going to lose their shit,” Corbin said.

“Enough,” Zed warned.  “Let’s not stir things up.”

It was interesting, Avery saw, that as they huddled, the student body didn’t feel as divided as before.  When teams had been picked everyone was in their own sub-group, still divided into the Bristow and Belanger halves, and stuff was tense and kind of awful, still.

And now they were all together, all a bit stressed, but they were stressed together.  No sides, really.  Or far less.

Had Estrella done that on purpose?  Probably.  Had the easy companionship she’d found with Fernanda toward the latter half of their whole discussion and shopping binge been intended?  Less probably.

“Where’s Liberty?” Lucy asked.

“Went with Estrella.  She knows her sister and where her sister would go,” Ulysse said.

Some Fae were giving them a wide berth, now.  A family where the children didn’t match the parents in any way, a woman that looked like she was made of gnarled wood.

Snowdrop started climbing down her arm, and Avery lifted her down.  Snowdrop became human.

“It’s boring right now,” Snowdrop said, looking around.

Avery put a hand on Snowdrop’s hair, smoothing it a bit where it stuck up.  Need to figure out what to do with you.

And what to do with Guilherme.  And everything else.

Rain began to fall in fat droplets.  Each seemed to strike a surface with the intention of making specific noise.  The lightest taps of drumsticks on stones and leaves.

“Rain doesn’t fall in a place like this unless someone wants it to,” Eloise said.

“What does that mean?” Zed asked, as the rain steadily increased.

“It might mean someone’s set a fire or created a mess and the rain is intended to put the fire out or wash away the mess.”

Droplets on warm stones made the faintest mist, little bits of water refusing to settle or go back down.  A haze covered the ground.

Shoppers continued shopping with little care.  Kids jumped in the growing puddles.  Some students pulled out raincoats.

Avery almost did; she had a waterproof jacket with a hood that could be clipped on in her bag.  She held off, saw Fernanda huddled over, looking uncomfortable, and handed her the jacket instead.  Fernanda didn’t say no.

“Wow,” Verona said, under her breath.  “Smooth.”

Avery moved to backhand Verona as lightly as possible in the cheek, but Verona turned her head at the same time and Avery whapped her in the mouth instead.

“Wow,” Verona muttered.  “Also ow.”

“Be good,” Lucy told them, before lightly whapping Avery in the mouth.  It didn’t hurt, but the reciprocation made Verona smirk.

“Always,” Snowdrop assured Lucy.

The rain came down heavy, and it caught oily, rainbow hues from residue -glamour residue- on stones.  It gave new life and light to murals, and cast other details in fog that lingered at waist level.

Water soaked Avery, head to toe.  It was refreshingly cool, and she pushed hair out of her face.  Snowdrop flipped up her raincoat hood but left her coat unzipped.

“Over here!” Jarvis called out.

“What’s going on?” Amine asked.

“America slipped away to open some goblin holes,” Liberty said.  “Trying to raise an army here to stir up some trouble, create distractions.”

“And the locals were pretty on top of it, they’re keeping the goblins in.  But America slipped away and Estrella can’t find her.  Fae aren’t good at blocking the holes or getting rid of them, so I helped for a few minutes.  I might have to stay.  America will be upset I helped.”

“It’s good you did,” Zed told her.  “What is she thinking?”

“She’s mad and she doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Estrella doesn’t need you to keep plugging up holes?” Zed asked.

“She says Silas should take us back to the spot we came in.  The way through is thinner there.  I can escort and deal with goblins.  Then I’ll go back and keep helping.”

“She being Estrella?” Silas asked.

“She wasn’t forced?  No knife to her throat?”

“Easy does it, Silas,” Zed said.

“She wasn’t,” Liberty said.  “I tell you this in good faith.  I’m hoping if I cooperate, I can tell you guys to go easy on her and you’ll listen.”

“Liberty was cool with us earlier,” Avery said.  “I mean, I could do without not nearly falling off the bridge, scraping myself up, but… she could have been way less cool.”

“Let’s go,” Silas said.

The distinction between the Faerie who were here and couldn’t spare them a second thought or glance and the Faerie who were watching was much more stark now.  Figures off by the wayside had to stand close enough to peer through the rain, while others came, went, and bought things.  Materials, food, trinkets, cloth.

They backtracked, and the scenery had all changed.  The river, droplets hitting droplets and creating many times the mist, all fog.  People by the banks were moving up to the slope to set up shop on higher ground.  It pressed crowds in closer, and those crowds didn’t seem to care in the least about getting wet.  They didn’t shrink in size, maybe.  Or they did shrink but they didn’t appear to because they walked closer together and the areas off to the side were foggier.

Here and there, light stabbed down through the tree branches that were perpetually overhead, through cave roof, and it was bright enough to light up the fog, and to reflect the hues of the leaves beneath.  So it was rarely a pure white or pure grey.

Goblins jeered in the distance.

“Estrella is going to be upset.  We have contacts here,” Silas said.

“It might mean another, longer-lasting expulsion for America, again,” Zed added.

They trekked through puddles and mist, dodged the faerie who ran this way or that.  Here and there, the masked children could be seen, observing.

Something came straight for Avery, fast, fierce, and with no sign of slowing down.

She held onto Snowdrop, touched the black rope that was coiled in her pocket, and threw herself into mist, turning her head.

She’d spotted a roof and she placed herself and Snowdrop there.

Below, a faerie cut through the crowd of kids like they weren’t there, charging forward, too big and too hurried to really slow down for them.

“Avery!” Lucy called out.

“Here!  Got spooked!” she called down, waving so Lucy could better see her.

Verona pointed, and Avery turned, expecting to see America.

It was the girl with the black fur, now wet.

“You wear a mask,” the girl said, reaching out.

Avery took a step back, bringing her to the very edge of where the roof’s peak stopped and the descent to the ground began.  Snowdrop crouched in front of her, low to the ground, water streaming off her raincoat.

The masked girl’s hand touched air, and the image of the deer mask traced its way through the mist, as if it were pushed aside.

“Are you important?” Avery asked the girl.

“I mean… do you have a role?”

“Don’t we all have many?”

“It just feels like… judges.  Or like you could have the appearance of children while being rulers here.”

“Where do you think we are, that we would have rulers?”

“The… Bright Fall court?  Am I wrong?”

“You’re right,” the girl with the mask told her.  “But you’re paying attention to the wrong things.”

That felt like a warning.  America imminent.  Avery glanced around.

Other children were gathering.  The girl with eyes like gold, flat and wedged in raw eye sockets, beneath a bird mask.  The boy who was so light the wind could lift him a little ways off the ground.  A girl with a pretty dress and a mask with an upside-down face with tears streaming from eye sockets to eyebrow to the top of the upside-down head.  All soaking wet.

“I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Trouble rolls downhill to reach us.  You know a little something about that.”

The girl with the curly hair and curled toes stepped forward.  “Do you want to stay?  We can fix up your mask, make you pretty.  Friends, tasty food, and young love that never stops being young or lovely.”

“I was just telling- telling a friend, I love to go places but I don’t think I’ll ever intend to stay in those places.”

“Then it’s time to head down.  She’s waiting.”

Fernanda, wearing her coat, and Verona, and Lucy.

They were waiting, yeah.  They couldn’t go if that meant leaving her behind.

“Snow,” she said, taking hold of Snowdrop.

Then she hopped down from the roof, clapping shoes together twice.

Wind stirred, fog spread, and they landed on the footpath below.

Hands seized her, as if to steady her, and she was reminded of the Forest Ribbon Trail.  Meeting Snowdrop.

Then those same hands pulled her down, sideways, and off balance.

Into darkness and into muck.  Goblins chittered and chattered.

It’s time to head down.

There was only a sound of Lucy shouting, and a burbling of mud.

She slid on her belly and it felt a bit like sliding down a water slide with razor blades set in it.  She stopped sliding down the narrow tunnel and immediately curled up, knees to chest, rolling a bit.

Snowdrop, muddy, clambered over her, taking up a stance to protect her, a dinner knife in hand.

“The thing about Faerie is it’s all so fragile, it’s all so fake.  Pretty and little else,” America said, in the gloom.  The mud sucked at her boots, but didn’t really slow her down.

“The thing about me,” Avery grunted.  “Is I’m probably the wrong person to drag into this situation.”

She found her footing, muddy hand against mud-slick belly, which stung from the various cuts that had been bandaged before her downward slide had peeled it off.  It stung more than mud should, like lemon juice had been rubbed on it.

The Tightrope of Lights path had given her a minor boon of balance.  It had blessed Lucy and Verona with the same, but less, both because they weren’t Finders and because she’d done the ritual and led the way.  There were ways to do that ritual and take away trinkets and boons but they’d mostly just wanted a way home after a long night, stopping Clementine and Daniel and Sharon.

Balance helped in this mud.

The Zoomtown path had bestowed the ability to navigate a crowded way forward.

There were goblins in this tunnel, between her and America.

She had Snowdrop, and she had the black rope, which were both from the Forest Ribbon Trail, though the black rope was from Miss.

Her spell cards were wet, but she had her charm bracelet.  She pulled the Ugly Stick free.

“I’ll probably get expelled for this, but I’m having trouble seeing the point of staying.”

“Liberty?” Avery asked.

“Liberty will stick by me.”

“That’s not…” Avery started.  She glanced down at Snowdrop, who was crouched in front of her, knife in hand.  “…Not something to take for granted.”

“You know what is something to take for granted?  My boot up your ass.  Because there’s a heck of a lot of things worse than the boot I could use.”

Goblins chattered and sniggered.

“Aren’t you tired?” Avery asked.  “I’m tired.  This is all so… so stressful.  The fighting-”

“I didn’t get to fight!” America shouted back.  Her voice didn’t ring off the wet mud walls, nor the ceiling that was so sloppy with mud it felt like it could cave in at any point.  “They- you took that power from me!  You took the right to have a say!”

Avery’s eyes adjusted to the gloom.  Her Sight helped her to see America, and see the goblins.  She could see charms on a chain that was wound around America’s arm.  Spiky and vicious.  Ready to use.  The staff she held, with giant rail-spikes driven through the shell at the top.

“You’re doing this because you think you missed out?”

“My dad doesn’t get me.  He loves me but he doesn’t get me, so he goes and gets sent to jail sometimes and crap, and he’ll ask how I’m doing and if I need anything, but he won’t… he doesn’t care.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“But it does, don’t you see?  Teachers either hate me or want to mess with me or both.  Classmates are scared of me or hot for me or both.  If we’d just returned everything to normal then that’d be great but you guys scared Alexander off and I didn’t get a say!  The whole point of this, of these guys, of my whole way of life…”

She smacked the staff into the muddy wall.  It sucked as it came free.

“…is I get a say.  One way or the other.  A bit of anarchy, I can say fuck the system, unless the system earns better.  And Alexander was nice to me and Uncle Toadswallow was… life defining for me and you scared away one and you stole the other and I guess I’m making sure I have my say now.  And I say eat shitty mud.  You guys, see if you can make her eat shitty mud.”

The goblins didn’t move until she prodded one with the end of her staff.  It started forward, hard to see in the gloom, except for the glow of its eyes in certain light.

Snowdrop collided with it, tackling it into muck.  But others were coming.

And America was holding the head of the staff close to her mouth, whispering to it.  Big slimy spell incoming, if yesterday was any clue.

She couldn’t let Snow be the bodyguard here.  She had to meet the problem.

Making her shoes tap was hard in mud that buried her up to the shoetops, but she stepped back, found something solid, and kicked twice, hard enough to punch shoe through mud.  Activating the diagrams on her spare running shoes.

She leaped.  Over Snowdrop and over incoming goblins.

America aimed for where she landed.  She landed in a skid, a goblin coming right for her, blithely unaware or uncaring about the incoming slime spell from America’s staff, and Avery lifted up her leg, kicking it twice.

Activating her shoe again.  The third kick let her throw herself against the curved side of the tunnel.

Sliding up it, where she banked off it, into the air, suspended for a moment.

Her Sight was a good clue of where her enemies were turning.  She was right over America, who swung the staff blindly her way, but-

She could use the black rope, while they couldn’t see her clearly, between gloom and her unexpected movement.

She landed on hands and knees in the mud behind America.  The girl was taller than Avery by a head and a half, and that mattered very little after Avery knocked her legs out from under her.  Avery pushed the staff aside, submerging it in mud.  In the process, something jagged and rigid dragged against her arm.

“You’re ruining things for classmates!” Avery shouted.

“Fuck my classmates!”

“Don’t do that!” Avery raised her voice.

Goblins clawed at her, dragging her back.

She kicked, once, twi- almost twice.  A strong hand seized her ankle.

“You’re causing the Bright Fall Fae grief!”

“Fuck the Faerie most of all!” America crowed, her hand finding Avery’s neck and shoving Avery off her and into the wall.  She settled with the staff beneath her, points jabbing the back of her shoulder.  Goblins seized Avery’s wrist before she could prop herself up.

“No, that’s a cute goblin joke but-”

Goblins crowded Avery’s head.  For a moment, heart-pounding, she was certain she was going to get drowned in mud, her head forced under.

You own the arguments you claim.  You own the consequences.  Hadn’t it been something like that?

Snowdrop threw herself at the goblins, snarling and hissing.  Bowling them over so one landed against Avery’s head, but at least they weren’t shoveling mud onto her, smothering her.

She wasn’t stronger than America, let alone the goblins.

Were her friends coming?  Was there a way through or a way in?

She wanted to ask Snowdrop to go and get them, and to show them the way, but she was pretty sure that if she did then something really bad would happen in the meantime.

The sounds Snowdrop was making were emotional, furious.

“You’re scaring my opossum!”

Avery hit America, as hard as she’d ever hit anyone without her hockey stick in hand.

“You’re just making everything worse because you’re angry!  Things suck already, and I know they suck for you-”

A goblin blindly flung some mud at Avery.  The weight of the goblin princess was pushing her down, and only the staff being where it was was keeping her from getting drowned in this dark, shitty hole.  But she could feel the point sinking in at her shoulder, hitting bone.

“But they aren’t great for us too!  We’re trying to handle it as problems come up and you’re sinking everything!”

“No, fuck you, fuck your pet, fuck the fae, fuck all this Blue Heron crap!  Fucking where fucking is deserved!  They can deal with the goblin holes, the Blue Heron can run damage control!  And as for you, you can eat mud until you can’t look me in the eye anymore and I’ll show your sorry mud-fat face to your friends and then I’ll do it to them!  And how about if you don’t, if you get away, if you chicken out, I can find you where you live and I’ll do it to your family!”

Avery swung for another punch and her hand was caught.

Her hand trembled, shaking from emotion and exhaustion.  Her feet scraped in mud and couldn’t find anything solid, and the mud was too dense for her to tap her heels together in any timely way.

“And this is it?” Avery asked.  “This is the way it goes?  Keeps getting worse because we have to hurt more than we’re hurt?”

“You’re asking for two eyes, you’re-”

Avery groped, and Avery found the answer somewhere in the dreck of this ruined field trip.

“-They’re poor.  They’re struggling.”

America didn’t answer.  But her eyes narrowed.

“The Fae!  That’s what Estrella wanted to show us, I think.  They’re not rich they’re not fancy they’re not super manipulative.  They’re tired and life’s hard and they’re selling stuff but-”

But some of those pleas and offers hadn’t been manipulation.  The woman offering free fruit for steady business.  The faerie selling the information.  The fact one Fae hadn’t known English.

Sure, the stuff was pretty and cool, but was Kennet any different?  Kennet sold stuff in stores that was objectively fancy, like music and music devices and televisions and stuff, but it didn’t change that Kennet wasn’t exactly doing great.

It had been Faerie, not practitioners, shelling out for an escape key because they couldn’t trust that they would always be able to get home.

“They’re poor or they’re down on their luck or they’re not really fancy Faerie and to them seventy five bucks is a lot and you’re- we’re kind of ruining their day, causing this mess.  Sending goblins at them.  How is that an eye for an eye?  You’re making the lives of struggling people harder!  You’re not the victim, you’re the asshole!”

America didn’t let up, but she didn’t retort either.

They wrestled, Avery struggling to find some traction, pressed down, a stabbing pain at her shoulder and more pain at her arm, and her stomach stung and indignant fury gripped her.

That Snowdrop was struggling and fighting too.

Avery found the breath to shout again.  “I didn’t want this outcome!  I know Verona-” she stopped and grunted out air as she fought for a second.  “I know she said it, I’m saying it more!  I didn’t want this!  I don’t even eat meat, and you think I wanted Bristow dead!?”

“You being vegetarian makes me want to hurt you more!”

But, as much as America said that, the wrestling fight tapered off.  America hurled herself back, because there was literally no other way to safely disengage, and then she rose to her feet.  Avery remained where she was, panting for breath, until a goblin moved to her left.  She sat up and shoved the goblin off Snowdrop, who was on top of another goblin.

America bent down, grabbed the end of her staff, and pulled it through the mud, shaking it free.

A good thirty seconds passed without comment, each of them heaving for breath.  Goblins started to edge in closer, and America gestured for them to back off.

“If you’re mad, be mad at the right people,” Avery said.  “I’m… not the right person.  Neither are the High Fall fae.”

“Stop blabbering.  I stopped hitting you, give me a bit of quid pro quo.”

“Be mad at the arrogant jackasses who pushed for this crap when it was all for them, their goals, and we were the cannon fodder,” she told America.

“Stop.  Or I’ll start on you again.”

“Tell Liberty I’ll be at home.  I’m done here.  There’s nothing I’m that interested in at the school.”

America whistled for the goblins, and the goblins went.

And Avery lay there, half-sitting against the wall, wrapping an arm around Snowdrop as Snowdrop came over.

“Want to be my familiar, Snow?  I gotta do right by you.”

“Okay.  How hurt are you?”

“I’m gonna die, Avery.  Mortally wounded, so if you want to force me to be your familiar you’ve got to do it fast.”

“Okay.  We can’t take too long.”

They lay there for another minute.  Something squelched further down the tunnel, and they went still.

After another bit, they rose to their feet, and tried to go the way they’d come.  When they found the way too steep and slick, they found their way around.

Goblin eyes surrounded them in one of the winding side tunnels.  Some of those eyes disappeared, the others remained silent.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Liberty appeared, Lucy and Verona following.

“I couldn’t convince her, really.  Just… she walked off.  She doesn’t intend on coming back to school.”

“Doing this, I don’t think she’s welcome,” Lucy said.

Avery shook her head, angry at herself.  “I thought I could get through.  Shake her up a bit.”

“Sometimes people are too mad, they can’t be reached,” Lucy said.

“Some books go unread,” Verona added.

Liberty led the way out, wordless, goblins herding around her.  When they reached the exit, they looked at the injuries.

The exit came up at the shore behind the gas station, and Zed was ready with his station wagon.  In the end, they used the hose by the gas station, with permission, to hose off the mud, and then she got patched up some more, with stuff bought inside.

“We could stay the night,” Zed told them.  “Let you recuperate, make it easier to explain things to your parents.”

Lucy and Verona looked to Avery, but she had the impression they had their own feelings on the matter, and they lined up with hers.

“Let me help grab the bags,” Zed answered.

Lucy went with.  Verona, exhausted from the hike through the Warrens, sat with Avery.  Neither had much to say.

It was dark and food was being delivered off to the side of the school.  Nicolette brought over some.

“Not great but I guess it’s as resolved as it’s going to get.  Goblin princess still angry at us, but… maybe not so angry she’ll keep coming after us,” Verona summed it up.

“You going tonight?” Nicolette asked.

Avery nodded, putting most of her energy into cuddling Snowdrop in her lap.

“Mr. Musser’s going to be the new headmaster.”

“What?” Verona asked, aghast.

Avery stewed over that.  Remembering Mr. Musser attacking the goblins.  The approach of the school.

Lucy and Zed brought out the rest of their stuff.  Avery got up, hand at her stomach, wincing a bit, as Verona popped the back so the bags could be dropped in.

“Mr. Musser,” Verona passed on.

“Ah, yeah,” Zed said.  “I was going to tell you in the car.”

“Feels like the wrong call,” Lucy said.

“I think it’s the call he feels he had to make,” Nicolette said.  “Give me a second with them, Zed?”

“I’ll warm up the engine and pick the music,” Zed said.

The door slammed.  Verona closed the back.  The windows rolled up.

“If your discussion with Raymond had gone another way…” Nicolette said, trailing off.

“Which discussion?” Lucy asked.

“The other day.  The questioning about Alexander.”

Lucy nodded, her lips pressing together.

“If it had gone another way, he might have felt differently, but Musser can protect the school, he’d be able to handle that kind of interrogation in a way Raymond couldn’t.  It’s what the school needs, Raymond thinks.  Don’t tell Zed I said that or he’ll get mad at Ray again.”

“Maybe he should be,” Lucy said.

“Lies and deceit and a dead staff member… there’s no way it ends in a clean, tidy resolution.”

“You think we…” Verona asked, trailing off.

“I know.  So does Raymond, I think.  Or he’s suspicious enough that he chose a headmaster that would be strict, be very practitioner-like practitioner, and be focused enough on his own agenda that he’ll listen when Raymond says he’s reasonably satisfied with the result of the investigation so far.  He’ll want to focus on other things.  Doesn’t care enough.  Anyone else, including the other contender, Crowe, they’d dig.  And this thing would be perpetuated endlessly.”

Neither Lucy, Verona, or Avery really had an answer.

“Alexander was dangerous.  I don’t know how it happened or what happened or what your degree of involvement is, I don’t exactly care.  Do Raymond or I need to worry about this going further?  I mean, I know it will, somehow, these things always do, but from you three?”

Lucy shook her head a little.

“Raymond still wants to meet with Charles, he said to pass that on.  I’ll be in touch somewhere down the line.”

“Bye,” Nicolette said.  “Have a nice drive.”

She handed over some of the food in paper packages that she’d been holding, and gave over Avery’s jacket, from Fernanda, then walked off.

The three of them and their one opossum climbed into the back, shutting the door, Avery met Zed’s eyes, saw them as curious, penetrating, until he looked away, focusing on the controls of the car as he shifted the clutch and got it moving.

To home.  For better or for worse.