Baelfire turned to see a heavy-set man of apparent middle age, clad in robes decorated with glittering stars. He studied Baelfire with a critical eye, stroking his beard (long and grizzled to match his hair). "Wait. Let's not be hasty. The boy is more than he seems."

Baelfire twisted in place, swallowing nervously at finding himself surrounded. His gaze flicked to the bearded man. "Ah, you must be the lord archmage."

"I hear you're wanting an audience. Come." The man snapped his fingers.

Baelfire felt the disorienting wrench of a transport spell. A blink and the gatehouse was gone. He stood on a richly colored rug, the geometric patterns dazzling to the eye. A spell, he guessed, or the mage wouldn't have let him trample all over it in his boots. The rest of the room was just as finely furnished, displays of esoteric and expensive artwork on the shelves of what seemed to be a private study. A globe of magical light hung near the ceiling, giving everything a weird blue-edged shadow.

"You've traveled a long way to be here," the mage said at last. "Why did you wish to speak with me?"

"I'm looking for someone," said Baelfire. He added a belated "your lordship" — it didn't hurt to be polite. Or to flatter the man's obviously considerable ego. "They all say you're the most powerful mage this side of the great sea."

"Hmm." The man didn't look pleased at the qualification. Well, a bit of provocation stirred more interest than pure flattery, as the boy had learned on Neverland — Pan had been brutal to anyone he found boring. "I suppose you want magic to aid your search."

Baelfire nodded. "The person I'm looking for may not be in this world at all."

"Is that so?" The mage's hand paused, fingers twisting into his beard. "In the world you came from, then? You do hail from elsewhere..."

"Yes," he admitted. "But I don't know if that's where they are."

The mage dropped his hands, clasping them behind his back. He circled in slow, measured paces around Baelfire, who fought back the impulse to rotate himself to keep the man in sight. "Magic. Magic to cross worlds... it doesn't come cheap."

"I know that," Baelfire said as steadily as he could. "As I told your gatekeeper, once we find the person I'm looking for, I can give you plenty of gold."

"Hmm. No, I'm afraid that's not how it works." The mage gestured all around him. "Do you think I achieved such wealth by expending my magic on empty promises of future payment?"

"It's not an empty promise!" Baelfire swallowed his indignation at the insult, reminding himself that he wasn't likely to find a more helpful sorcerer in this world anytime soon. Still, he was a little surprised at the demand — the Dark One had been willing enough to make a deal for a payment to be collected later. Now he wondered how unusual that actually was. People didn't buy on credit at the market, either, except for a few long-term, trusted customers. Perhaps it was only that the Dark One was more willing and able to collect a debt than the average sorcerer. He muttered glumly, "No firstborns, then? Suppose that's a point in your favor..."

"What's that?"

Baelfire shook his head. "Nothing, your lordship." He cleared his throat. "I guess I don't have anything to pay you with, then."

The mage came to a stop in front of him and smiled slightly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. You do have something to trade." His gaze sharpened on the crook of Baelfire's arm. "That which you have hidden under your cloak, for instance. May I see?"

He wanted to refuse, but the griffon had other ideas. Eskereye's beak pushed the edge of the cloak aside, followed by the rest of her head. Beady eyes and a warning hiss didn't phase the mage.

"Ah. As I thought. Quite the treasure you have there, boy."

"She's not a treasure. I didn't bring her here for that!" Baelire said hotly, backing away a step, twisting his head around to look for the way out.

"Softly, boy, or you'll frighten the creature." The mage's smile widened. "A midnight jewel, fit for a king or an emperor. She's wasted on a yokel." At Baelfire's glare, the mage chuckled. "A few cheap glamours can't disguise the dung on your boots..."

Baelfire scowled, grinding a heel into the expensive rug, hoping to ruin at least this one corner of it (because he really had stepped in a pile of old mule droppings earlier that morning). "She's not for sale."

The griffon hissed.

"Temper, temper," chided the mage. "May I remind you, you came to me for help. Now I've offered it, will you turn that offer down in a fit of pique?" He moved behind a desk and with a wave of his hand, summoned a ledger book similar to the one the gatekeeper had and opened it to a blank page. Another blink, and black ink crawled across the paper, letters shaping themselves into a contract. "The terms are more than fair. You need only sign here..."

"I'd sell myself before I betrayed a friend!"

"Alas, you're not nearly as valuable as your little 'friend'." The mage leaned forward, his palms flat on the desk. His eyes bored into Baelfire. "Think. Think carefully before you throw this chance — and how many others do you think you'll find? — away."

Baelfire gritted his teeth. "Thank you, your lordship, for your... generous... offer. But I have thought, and what I think is, no way in hell!"

The mage straightened, a flash of anger crossing his face before he smoothed his expression. "Very well. If that's your decision..."

"It is."

"Then be off!" A wave of his hand sent Baelfire away in another rush of magic, depositing him on the road outside the gate.

After a moment of sitting in the dirt, dazed and angry, he picked himself up and brushed his clothes out. "Damn."

Eskereye climbed onto his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek, churtling something uncomplimentary (probably) in the direction of the mage's house.

"Yeah, well, we're no closer to finding my father or anyone else." Baelfire started trudging down the road, headed back for the city. There had to be others — witches, scholars, explorers — people who could help him. "You know who was good at crossing worlds and finding people? Pan's Shadow, that's who!"

The griffon made a questioning chirp.

"He was — is — my grandfather! And how many grandsons does he have, huh? Just me. You'd think he'd give a shit. I would never treat my family like that," Baelfire grumbled. "But no, it was one damn game after another. And now Papa's turned him into a bird, it's even more hopeless."

The griffon sighed.

"I wish I knew how that shadow magic worked. I'd cut mine off and send it to find Papa." Baelfire paused, another idea occurring to him. "Do you think Papa knows that trick? Do you think he could teach me?"

The griffon shrugged, then sighed again.

"Yeah, not doing me much good right now." But he was determined not to lose hope, so he insisted silently that he would find Papa again and have that chance someday. "For next time, because with our family's luck, there's always going to be a next time."

Not long after they left the mage's house, Otulissa caught up with them. The two griffons chattered to each other, then both flew off again.

Baelfire spent the rest of the day asking around and learning more about the land he had fallen in. That evening, he camped by the river, pleasant enough in the warm, dry weather. The griffons joined him with a contribution of a rabbit for dinner. Baelfire skinned and gutted it, putting it on a stick to cook.

"I think we should ask the elves," he told the griffons. "Apparently they are still about in this land."

The griffons chittered in alarm.

"I know, they're supposed to be dangerous, but they have magic and they have rules they follow." Elves were long gone from the Enchanted Forest, but some of the Lost Boys on Neverland had come from realms where humans and elves lived together (if not always in harmony) and told hair-raising tales around the campfire (on those nights when Pan decided to make a game of who could tell the scariest story). Baelfire knew the stories were embellished for effect, but there had to be a grain of truth in them. "And they have roads that go between worlds. That's how you find them, by going on their roads."

The griffons signed at him, Be careful.

Baelfire nodded. "I know. But I may have a lead. Remember that goat herd? I think he thought I was an elf... because that place where the portal dropped us must have been near one of their roads!"

It would mean backtracking, but he didn't mind. He secretly hoped that maybe his father or Belle would be there, waiting for him.

"We can get an early start tomorrow, maybe find another ride." That optimistic thought was still in his mind as he lay down in his cloak on a nest of leaves and fell asleep.

"Eskereye! Otulissa!" Baelfire nearly shouted himself hoarse, but it was futile. The griffons were nowhere to be found. He had woken up late that morning, his thoughts sluggish with a nebulous anxiety. He was still in Neverland and would never escape. He shook off the half-remembered dream and realized that he was alone.

They wouldn't just fly off without telling him, would they? Not both of them at once? Not without leaving him some sign? He didn't believe it.

He searched the area in widening circles. No luck. As he tried looking along the road back into town, he suddenly remembered a face. A face consumed with avarice.

Simon Gittian. The Archmage of Katekh. Baelfire's stomach went cold with growing suspicion.

You're not nearly as valuable as your little friend.

The words ran round and round in his head. The mage had taken them — both of them — with what magic Baelfire didn't know, but he was sure he was right. He had known enough pirates in his life to recognize the look of someone who took whatever he wanted, whatever he could get away with. Baelfire practically ran all the way back to the mage's house. He took only long enough to catch his breath before he burst into the gatehouse with his accusations.

"I know what he did! I know he kidnapped them..."

Then the two guards had grabbed him by the arms, actually lifting him off his feet, while the gatekeeper regarded him coldly.

"Get out. And stay out, or the archmage'll have you whipped for slander," she told him.

"Archmage? He's a thief! I'll report him to..." Baelfire came to the sudden painful realization that he had no one to 'report' anything to. His head, which had been muddled up to that point from the nightmare and the terror afterwards of finding himself truly alone, suddenly went quiet as he woke up properly. "I mean..."

"The archmage is a premier citizen of Katekh, and you're a filthy gutter rat without a penny to your name," sneered the gatekeeper. "Who'd miss you if we took care of some trash?"

No one. Baelfire had told the mage too much, or he had seen it anyway, that Baelfire was alone in this world with no one to watch his back now that the two griffons had been taken. He hung his head in defeat and said through gritted teeth, "Fine. I'm going, I'm going..."

To his relief, the two guards were satisfied with merely roughing him up a little before tossing him back outside. Maybe it was too early in the day for murder, with too many potential witnesses about. Baelfire picked himself up and limped away. Direct confrontation was out. He would have to think of some other way to free the griffons. Perhaps the elves, after all?

Magic always comes with a price. Then he thought resentfully that they had paid, and got nothing out of it! Would elves be better or worse than the Archmage of Katekh?

He spent the rest of the day in the city finding out everything he could specifically about either the mage or the elves. He learned that the archmage was known to purchase 'exotic' creatures, not for his personal collection, but to sell through a company of specialized traders and monster hunters that he sponsored. They were much in demand in the old empire across the sea and sold to the wealthy and well-connected. To kings and emperors, as their business cards boasted. Baelfire remembered the mage had said much the same thing. According to local gossip, the archmage supplied them with spells and enchanted collars, the better to control otherwise dangerous creatures.

"They keep 'em on their ship, in special cages," explained a young fisherman who was happy to tell Baelfire all about it. "If you wanna see, it's two pennies for a tour."

Apparently the traders made a bit of extra cash on the side, charging the commoners to take a peek at living treasures destined for their betters, while they were stopped to collect supplies and new acquisitions.

Baelfire shook his head. "Haven't got the coin to spare. I was hoping maybe they'd be hiring..."

The other boy scoffed. "Nah. They don't take just anyone. Y'gotta prove yourself, see?" He leaned forward and confided, "One of these days I'll catch something in these waters besides fish, and that'll be my ticket out of this stinking pile of dead fish. They say there's mermaids been seen out by Rangalf's Rock..."

Baelfire snorted, shaking his head. "Better hope not. You don't want to be messing with mermaids."

He bid the boy good day and set off further down the docks to where the traders' ship, the Sea Hound, was berthed. It would be here for another two days. A tour, he thought. For once greed could work in his favor. It couldn't be that difficult to scrape up two pennies. After all, the traders would keep the price low enough to get a steady stream of gawkers.

He managed to earn the entry fee by unloading cargo for one of the merchant ships that came in on the evening tide. The next day, he joined the queue to see the 'exotic beasts'. And there they were! Eskereye and Otulissa, kept in separate bronze bird cages hanging from a bar fixed to the ceiling of the main hold. Tiny leather collars encircled each neck — magic-blocking collars, Baelfire guessed. At their pleading, desperate looks, Baelfire bit his tongue to keep from saying something to draw suspicion, then glanced away, mentally promising to be back.

The other 'exhibits' included more mundane creatures — a mountain lion, a long-eared fox, a creature that resembled a large, horned hare, a pair of giant rodents, a colorful lizard, a big hairy spider, a strikingly patterned tortoise, various birds — but also a small dragon. A dragon! Baelfire couldn't help but stare in wonder. Then the press of the crowd forced him to move on. Feeling suffocated, he was glad to finally escape back to shore and take a few deep breaths of cooler air.

He went for a walk, thinking how he could free the griffons. He had sensed magic on the ship, probably security wards and traps set up by Simon Gittian, but had no way of disarming or evading them. The wards were lowered for the tours, but the tours were closely watched by the (armed) crew.

So his thoughts circled back to the elves again. He had gathered a list of where they were rumored to show up, and that night, he picked the one he thought likeliest — an ancient pine tree on a ridge outside the city. He brought with him traditional offerings of a sea shell (the best he could find from a walk along the beach), a crown woven of grass stalks and wildflowers, and fresh water in a large, glossy leaf. He laid the three gifts out by the roots, then sat back and waited.

With moonrise came a shadow and a child's voice: "You called?"

Baelfire peered uncertainly into the shadow. Was that a human shape? A hint of eyes that flashed silver and a gleam of light catching on white teeth. "I need... help."

"Magical help?" mused the voice. "That's why they usually call us." The shadow moved. The three offerings vanished. "Hmm. It'll do. Now, let's take a look at you."

Baelfire stood utterly still, letting the shadow circle around him just as Simon Gittian had done.

"A stranger, then. And I think not a coincidence that your arrival marks the opening of the ways."

"I don't understand," said Baelfire.

"And it may be that you had something to do with why they closed. Our roads," the voice elaborated. The shadow took on more substance, and Baelfire saw what looked like a child with wild silver hair, clad in a patchwork jacket, with inhuman eyes."There was an obstruction."

"You do travel between realms, then," he blurted.

"Is that what you want from us? Be warned, you may regret it. Time is unkind to those who travel on our roads."

Baelfire nodded. He knew the stories. He had experienced something similar already, on Neverland, and had no wish to be lost for another few centuries. "Something smaller. I have friends who have been taken prisoner, held by magic. I need to get through that, to slip past a ward without tripping it."

"And what will you give us in return for this boon?"

"A favor. I will owe you a favor." He knew his father accepted such deals, sometimes, and hoped the elf was more accommodating than the Archmage of Katekh.

The elf tilted its head, weighing the offer. Then, "More. I think you can bring more to the table than your favor..."

The elf was laughing at him. Baelfire saw the knowledge in its eyes. "You know who I am."

"The Dark One's son!" The elf clapped its hands in glee, reminding Baelfire disturbingly of his father.

He nodded in resignation. No one Baelfire had talked to in this realm had heard of the Dark One, but the elves in their travels must have crossed Rumplestiltskin's path before. Baelfire knew his father had searched everywhere for a way to him, so perhaps at some point he had gone to the elves, too. Could he make a promise for his father? Surely he would want Baelfire to rescue the griffons. Reluctantly, he agreed. "My father will owe you a favor, in return for your aid to me."

The elf grinned. "Just so."

"Do... do you know where he is?" He had to ask. Even if he didn't want to risk the elf roads, maybe they would get a message through — how else did they expect to collect their favor?

"Clever boy, going for a two-in-one bargain. You are your father's son indeed!" The elf cocked its head for a moment, then shrugged. "But alas, no, we know not. Some power pried him from the door and dragged him elsewhere."

"What power?"

"One better left alone," said the elf. "And so we intend."

The elf would give him no more that, despite Baelfire pointing out that if he couldn't find his father, the debt might never be repaid. "Then count it as your luck to gain something for nothing."

Luck? Hardly luck. But it was no use thinking of what-ifs. He had to be satisfied with what the elf was willing to give.

After that, it was a matter of exchanging names to seal the deal. This time, he gave up his true name, there being no point in hiding it when the other party knew this much already.

"Done, and done," said the elf (Otterskin).

Sneaking aboard a ship was something Baelfire had learned in his years on Neverland and the elven magic ensured that he easily eluded the spell traps and spell nets hung about to catch intruders. Then it was a matter of hiding until the ship was out to sea. He planned to make his escape by taking to the air on one of the griffons (it was an emergency, they couldn't stand on dignity) and it would be harder to follow him across open water. He couldn't discount magic on their part, but he wanted every advantage he could.

Hidden among sacks of animal feed, he waited. Once he judged they were far from shore, he waited for the last watch of the night, when most of the crew would be asleep, and crept out to where the cages were kept. The griffons chittered in excitement.

Baelfire hushed them, whispering, "Hold on, let me get this open."

The griffons froze. Eyes wide and wings flaring.

"What's gotten into you now..." he began.

Then he felt the cold touch of steel against his neck, and an arm gripped around him, someone close against him from behind. A voice hissed in his ear, "Who are you and what the hell are you doing?"