Origin of the Pixies

by FountainPenguin

"I wasn't finished." Setting my glasses down on Cupid's stack of translations, I leaned back on my rusty stool. "The Wolbachia pipientis bacteria changes the entire reproductive system of the host insect. Those who've caught it don't just lose the ability to reproduce with other species. They gain the ability to reproduce parthenogenetically." (Written March 2016 - Ongoing)

28. Cotton Candy Oatmeal

(Posted November 21, 2017)

Cotton Candy Oatmeal

Autumn of the Red Petals

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Not wanting to keep the Purple Robe waiting, I made it my goal to get in and out of the Fairy World Pet Store as quickly as time allowed. I walked in with my wallet already out of my pouch and in hand. The entire place stank of pet litter and turtle leavings.

I didn't even look to see what my options were, partly because I floated straight up to the front counter, and partly because I got distracted wondering what in the name of dust a young von Strangle was doing working at an average place like this. Granted, there were only two or three pet stores in the entire cloudlands so the traffic rate was fairly high, but anyway. I recognized her instantly due to the obvious family resemblance, and it caught me off guard for a second there.

"I want to buy a cù sith," I told her, placing my wallet next to her hand. The name sewn on the left side of her chest read "Ginny".

Her eyes flicked over to a huge square bin without a lid that took up most of the front of the store. Longwood had wandered over to peer inside, resting one forefinger against his mouth as though that helped him remember not to speak. When I glanced over, I realized that the bin was full of puppies. Puppies with fur colors all through the Fairy rainbow. Half a dozen of them. Ginny pointed with her thumb. "Just between you and me, sir, the red one's been fixed. Good if you're raising kids."

Her voice rumbled deep and low in the traditional von Strangle way. I nodded. "Thank you, but no. I need a cù sith that can still swap souls."

Ginny paused. "Deliberately?"

"That's right. Desperate to get out of that body, will take any possible chance to swap souls, salty and independent personality, doesn't like cuddles or being babied. Do you have any of those?"

"For a… gift?"

"No. I want to own one just like that. I have very specific tastes."

Ginny stared at me for a moment, but she nodded. I (though not the Purple Robe, who had walked in and immediately begun fawning over the teacup elephants in their kennel against the wall) followed her over to the bin of puppies. They were divided equally among the three Fairykind races, with two of them being Fairy dogs, two Anti-Fairies with black crowns and leathery wings, and two Refracts. Longwood shuffled sideways when I came up behind him.

I fully expected Ginny to choose a particularly nasty-looking dark blue and black hound, but instead, she reached straight into the box and plucked out an undersized cù sith with fur so gray, it was almost pink. A white mark like a saddle coated its back. Its head didn't seem like it could balance on its body, and it probably bobbled when he walked. Perky ears swiveled constantly back and forth, tracking everything. The tips kept flicking against the pointed blue ishigaq hat above its head, with its white feather uncoiling from the rear. It was male, or at least the body was. Like all his other parts, his wings were way too big for him. They drooped to his sides. So clear they were practically invisible, and probably prone to being stepped on. As with most, his braided tail ended in a solid, star-shaped tuft.

"This one?" Ginny asked me, shifting the puppy between her large hands. He easily fit in just one palm. "I mean, you can take him if you want, but I have to warn you, he is a terrible grouch and he bites. Used to have an awful mouth too. One of his previous owners was an anti-fairy, and now he's been hexed so he only swears in desserts."

As she spoke, the mutt snapped his teeth in Longwood's direction, snarling in the process. Longwood ducked behind me, but I simply smirked and drew a pleasant handful of lagelyn from my wallet. "He's perfect. If you would hand me the paperwork, I'd like to have a few minutes alone to talk with him in the back. No soul swapping. I just want to set some ground rules and make sure we're on the same page here."

Ginny shrugged. "There is not much paperwork. All you have to do is pay, sign, and date." She gave me the proper form, then carted the puppy into the back room. I followed, after instructing Longwood to stay up front, and quiet. The Purple Robe didn't seem to need any encouragement to remain where he was. Apparently he was above the rules, because he'd unlocked fourteen kennels on the wall and now had over a dozen different fluffy animals snuggling on top of him, and not enough hands to pet each one. Ginny didn't bat an eye as he cooed and scratched their ears, like this was a regular occurrence.

So there we were. I, very large, sat at a long table in the back of the pet shop across from a scrappy mutt, very small. My hands and his paws rested on the table, and we both stared one another down. I won the contest. I always win.

"I have a business proposal for you," I said.

"Yeah, I bet you key lime pie-ing do. Let's level. I'm Rice, and I already don't like you. You're too big and I'm too small, and you've got the glasses, so you probably can't see well. You're going to step on me. Also, your face is éclair square, like a box, and what's up with your wings anyway? Your hat is a fashion don't."

I nodded, satisfied. Just a few superficial, basic insults. He wasn't so bad. I could handle this.

"I am the Head Pixie himself. You probably don't know my species. There are only eleven of us in existence, and the accent in your voice suggests you grew up in an uneducated area and never went to school. The bad ishigaq eyes probably didn't help with that."

Rice kicked at an itch behind his ear. A thin growl trickled into his voice. "That's crème brûléeing low, chief. You kiss the mosaics in the Soil Temple with that mouth? Yeah, you're a Soil. I can smell it on you."

"I'm Daoist."

He stopped, his tiny hind paw still resting against his oversized head. "Hold the scry bowl. You're Daoist? What the strawberry waffle batter?" The foot slapped down on his chair with the softest pat. "Why are you here? I thought your people jumped up on counters and squealed like urvogels whenever we walked into the room. Are you even chocolate mousse-ing allowed to own a cù sith if you're Daoist?"

"It's not traditional," I admitted, "but I'm desperate. I'll explain. I'm a gyne. And I'm raising a gyne. He's just over 2,000 years old, and we've survived this long. However, I have my concerns about where things will go from here, particularly when more pixie gynes begin to flourish in my home. This is where you come in. What are the Three Deep Sins that would allow you to swap a Fairykind's soul?"

Rice sniffed. "Killing someone without giving them the chance at a fair fight, telling lies, or disobeying a direct order from the fruit galette-ing Fairy Elder. Duh."

I leaned forward, my fingers clasped. "Exactly my point. Gynes kill gynes. That's what we're wired to do. You saw the pixie gyne out there, though his freckles are still pale so you probably didn't notice. He's quite thin for a gyne. On over a thousand occasions, I have had to quell my instinct to unhinge his dome and unwind his lines, or push him off the edge of a cloud, or nudge him with my foot into a fire. Presumably, he feels the same way. I am the sole adult of my race, so if I die, that will be a problem."

"I getcha. You want me to hang around and remind everyone I'll swap our souls if someone snaps and butterscotching kills a guy without giving 'em the chance to defend themselves. If a gyne fight breaks out, it will be on totally fair terms. No sneaky backstabbing. Smaaart. So. What does this pup get out of the arrangement for his loyal service?"

"A nice life, I should think. Plenty of space to roam, and enough to eat. Few responsibilities. Plenty of company. I plan to treat you how you want to be treated. If you want me to treat you as a dog, I'll treat you as a dog. If you want me to treat you as a Fairy, I'll treat you as a Fairy."

"You're cinnamon rolling serious?"

"Wouldn't you know if I was lying?"

Rice studied me with a pointed face that didn't lend itself well to facial expressions. Tilting back his head again, he raised the hind foot and went back to itching his ear as before. The tag on his collar jingled like the star on my hat. "I've never met a Daoist who was willing to let a cù sith near his kids. So, let me see if I understand. You want me to strudle-ing babysit your 2,000-year-old gyne for you?"

"He's 2,016," I said instead of saying "Yes." "And actually, I'm not asking you to hold Longwood back." I leveled my eyes with his. "I'm asking you to watch me."

"Oh yeah? I'm listening."

"I want you to remain at my side when I call for you. When I'm in my office, or my room for the night, you are free to wander where you want. But when I leave those areas and go anywhere that I might cross paths with Longwood, or any other gyne, I expect you to accompany me. And if I slip up… you of course have free reign over swapping our souls."

Rice studied me, his chin resting on folded paws. "You think you can go your whole milkshaking life without telling lies?"

The instant confirmation was on the tip of my tongue. I caught myself just in time and tightened my teeth. With Rice around, I would certainly need to watch my words.

"My pixies are important to me," I said carefully. "They - many of them - are drones. It could be disastrous to leave them without a gyne. I am making an attempt to prevent anticipated problems. Your presence does not guarantee I will be able to restrain myself. However, I am trying to add as many consequences to my actions as possible. If I wouldn't spare my gynes for the sake of their own lives, I hope I would hold myself back from snapping and engaging in underhanded tricks for the sake of my own."

Rice's tall ears twitched several times as I spoke. "You're not going to make this bundt caking easy on me, are you? Dumpling."

"I… won't roll over and hand you my soul."

"Ugh. You're good. But you'll slip up one day. I accept your conditions." He lifted his head from the table. "But let's be clear. I still don't pecan pie-ing like you. I have no powdered sugary loyalty to you beyond the extent of this deal we're making. If you step on, drop, or hurt me, there will be Darkness to pay. If I have the chance to swap souls, I will chocolate syruping take it."

"I would expect nothing less. However, understand that I plan to take preventive measures to ensure that doesn't happen. Also, I'm the one who will be supplying you with food, water, and comfort."

"You're my entire universe and I hot fudging love you. Let's hit the road, hot stuff."

I brought Rice up front, tucking him under my arm facing backwards, and handed his form over to Ginny. "Don't say anything," I warned Longwood. He shook his head- presumably to let me know that I had taught him well and he would remain silent when in the mutt's presence.

"So you're Big Plant," Rice said, making the attempt to extend a paw behind me so he could touch Longwood's hand. "That's crispy waffling great. I'm Little Plant. 'Longwood', eh? Daddy trippin' on peppermint when he named you? You look a little fetal sugar syndrome in the face. Yeah, you do."

"I got my name because I was born in the Year of the Tall Cedar."

"Longwood, I would prefer you remained silent."

I had to catch myself from saying, "I told you to remain silent", because it was untrue. I'd warned him not to say anything.

My grip tightened around Rice's tiny body. I was taking him home in the hopes of solving one of my most major problems. But I wondered if I had just added one that was even worse.

The Purple Robe (reluctantly) returned the twenty-five animals he'd been cuddling to their proper kennels and teleported us to Pixie World. I turned Keefe over to Ambrosine, who sat by the fountain with Sanderson, who wore the watery blue shirt we'd picked up in Faeheim the other day. Sanderson of course jumped up as soon as he saw me, apparently without noticing that Longwood slipped away with a star on the tip of his hat.

"H.P., you're back. And you brought a… cù sith?"

"Holy marshmallow paste," Rice said when I set him on the ground. He took a step and, as I'd expected, tripped over his big wings. Still on his stomach, he stared at the manor with his tail wagging behind him. "This place is fondue-ing huge."

"I had reasons," I told Ambrosine when he took off his glasses and stared at me. "You're leaving for Novakiin again tomorrow anyway. Now, I have a Council meeting to attend. I'm taking Rice here up to my room and shutting him in there until I get back. Please keep the nymphs out."

"Aw, what?" Rice pushed himself back up to his feet and shook his head. His ears flopped in front of his eyes. "Can't I sniff around out here?"

"Now that you'll be living with me, you'll have plenty of opportunities to experience being outdoors. After I discuss you and our deal with the rest of my pixies."

"That's fair."

I toted him up to the manor's second floor, with Sanderson tagging innocently after me. After providing him with a dish of water, I placed Rice in my private washroom, shut the door, and locked it magically from the outside- ignoring the cù sith's whines and the scratch of his pawing nails. With him secure, I pulled Kris Kringle's magic pouch, filled with the other race tokens, from my own pouch and placed it on my bed. Then I finally took off my hat and wiped my brow. "I hope I've calculated the most beneficial path of action here."

"Are you heading out again?" Sanderson asked, eyeing my mouth.

"Mmhm." I pulled him closer and swiped two quick licks across his forehead. "I'll be back in another two hours at the latest. Off to a Council meeting. And they're expecting me to bring a sensible companion. Ambrosine's out of the question and Emery isn't here. Maybe I could bring Rice. Or I could leave you in charge and take Ambrosine anyway. I wonder if there's anything wrong with selecting an escort outside of the race you're supposed to be ambassadoring for. I don't think there should be. After all, some mothers bring crossbred sons. And Kris Kringle himself isn't a northern elf at all, so that's a thing."

Sanderson looked at me with a face of sheer terror. "Wait, so I'm still not going with you?"

"Sanderson, you are three-thousand five hundred years old. You're nowhere close to getting your adult wings, and I'm not sure if they'll scoff at me for bringing such a young escort into an important meeting. If I were bringing any pixie, I'd bring Longwood. Please wipe that blatant emotion off your face- it makes you a target."

"Yes, sir."

I studied his bare hat for a moment, chewing on my tongue, before I shifted my shoulder against the washroom door. Then I said, "Actually, maybe I have a special job just for you after all. Sanderson, would you be interested in taking upon yourself the duties of my alpha retinue?"

"Of course, sir. Right away." He straightened importantly, wings picking up, then frowned. "What's an alpha retinue?"

I rubbed my chin. Drones were attracted to a gyne's dominance pheromones, and when I'd lived with Ambrosine in my youth, it had never come up. Being a virgin back then had definitely helped with that. I'd never solved the question of whether Sparkle had been kabouter or drone himself, though I suspected the former. During my time in the Eros Nest, my contact with other Fairies had been rather limited…

In fact, I realized, I hadn't consciously collected a retinue since I'd skipped among the town bubbles down on Earth. My first drone (Cosmo by name, with hair as purple-blue as the sky) had gotten lured off by a more dominant gyne one weekend at a club when I got sloppy and forgot to keep a close eye on him. Shame, because he was my first and I'd awfully liked him; he'd actually helped me form my personal preening ritual, back when I was young and awkward and stammered like a rolling stone as he took my hands and led me through our first night together.

My second drone hadn't survived the snow one year. A few decades later, I'd picked up two more - brothers, twins - who were awfully clumsy and usually lost my laundry in the river, but they meant well. Reluctant to let anyone from Great Sidhe identify me, I'd chosen to cut ties before I'd buried myself in my hole in Purple Valley. Eventually Sanderson had come along and, well, the rest was history. Drones sought figures of dominance out young, and once they latched on, you usually had to fight their gyne and win to take them for your own. During my time as Novakiin's sole gyne, Ambrosine and I had worked together to keep me under the radar from anyone in neighboring towns.

"A retinue," I said, deciding to keep this simple and not get into the talk of the nests and the honeycomb, "is a helper or group of helpers who assist their boss at work or in his home. A retinue sometimes fetches food and drinks from the kitchen while his boss is busy working, cleans up things that spill, carries papers or boxes, and makes sure their boss always looks professional. The alpha retinue is in charge of the other retinue members, if there are any, and always gets dibs on accompanying the boss throughout the day and on potential business trips."

"You mean like, go places with you?"

"That's correct. Legally, the alpha retinue is allowed to go anywhere I'm allowed, except you couldn't come with me into the Soil Temple's echo chamber. But since I'm Daoist and it's my understanding that the chamber is sealed, it shouldn't ever come up."

Sanderson maintained his poise, but his tongue slipped out between his lips. "So if I say yes, I can go anywhere you can, sir? You mean, all the time?"

"As long as you behave yourself." I pressed my hand against the washroom door as Rice's whining hiked into mournful wails. "Of course, while following me around is a benefit, this is a serious job I'm offering you. If you accept, you have to be willing to work. Every morning, I expect you to help me look my best for the day. And I think that after, let's say 21:00 every night, you could come up here to my private washroom and help me get ready for bed. You know. By washing those places on my back around my wings that I can't reach very well with my brush. Making sure there's no last-minute task I've just remembered needs to be completed before bed. Running messages to the other pixies if I need you to. The things."

He didn't speak for ten seconds, but floated in place, wings gently humming. Then he said, "You would let me do all of that for you, sir?"

"If you want to," I said, partly puzzled. Who wants to clean someone else's wings? Despite the size of the company in present times and all the drones I've raised, I don't believe I'll ever understand how their simple minds tick.

"I want to do anything you want me to do, H.P.," Sanderson assured me. "I mean, since we got to the village, I've sung songs, measured benches and building corners, walked in the woods with Hawkins, and read books, but what I like to do most is just being with you. I would be honored to accept this position and be your personal assistant, or alpha retinue, or whatever it's called."

"It's settled then." Smiling to myself, I added, "If you're meticulous and efficient, you can keep that job as long as you want it. You will always be my first choice helper, and won't have to share the glory with anyone else if you don't want to."

"I'll be the greatest, sir. I'll manage all the retinue duties by myself, and it will be dazzled, and I can be with you, and then you'll say you love me."

"You're allowing your expectations to flicker up a little high."

Sanderson straightened his back. "Yes, sir. I'll adjust my daily schedule accordingly. What's your policy on preening the alpha retinue?"

I pushed my tongue into my cheek and groaned internally at this newfound chore. There was a reason most gynes only adopted as many drones as they could count on one hand, and even then, only the most dominant gynes of all dared to keep a fourth for long. Too much work. I'd had a checkered system back before the Eros Nest, balancing the even-born drones on one day and the odds on another. Frequent licking rituals were both pleasing to and physically necessary for them, but you do that in a constant cycle three, four, or more times a day, and entertaining their needs leads to a dry tongue, a desperately thirsty throat, and loses luster for the weary gyne quite quickly, I think.

Oh. Not that I minded. I enjoy boring and repetitive tasks. Yes. That's me.

"Right." I rubbed my chin with two knuckles and looked Sanderson up and down. "Obviously, the alpha retinue gets dominance licks every day."

"When?"

"When retinue duties are completed, I suppose."

Sanderson grinned. "So that's twice a day. After morning duties and evening duties."

Was that how math worked?

"Yes. So, that's how the things are. Mark your personal calendar." I flared the lapels of my suit. "Now, we should get going. We had half an hour before the Purple Robe was supposed to take us to the FGP, and time is ticking. Well? How do I look, alpha retinue?"

He cocked his head. "Your coat is caught on your wings. I can fix it, sir."

We returned to the fountain and bid Ambrosine good-bye. The Purple Robe blinked when I informed him Sanderson would be my escort to the Council meeting, but rather than telling me no, he simply returned the golf club he'd taken from me before the pet store. One wave of his hand later, we had shot across the skies and up another Plane.

Wind buffeted me the moment my feet tapped down on solid cloud. Out of instinct, I attempted to ping myself into a thicker coat, but I had no wand in my sheath. Right. Magic ration. I'd grabbed the wand from my bedside table to perform the very simple task of locking Rice in my washroom, but I'd set it down again while Sanderson fixed my suit. I tightened my lips instead and decided to give off the impression that the cold didn't bother me in the least.

"Oh," Sanderson said. He had tilted back his head, twitching a bit in the cold. I followed his gaze and raised my eyebrows myself. I'd seen sketches in my school textbooks long ago, of course, though as indents in clay they hadn't been in color, and they hardly compared to the real thing. The building stood easily a hundred wingspans tall, cylindrical and large like a lake, and a balcony wrapped around every few floors. Streams of brittle yellow plants and dried, flaky flowers leaked between the vertical bars and dangled in tendrils like the wispy leaves of milbark trees. I gripped my staff. Waterfalls poured from the middle levels of the building and crashed down to the moat, but the water didn't actually run. It had frozen to pure ice.

"Here we are. Sanderson, welcome to the Frozen Garden Palace. The assembly building for all sorts of political figureheads throughout the entire cloudlands."

"Why is it…" Sanderson tilted his head. "Dead? We're magic. Why are the plants dead?"

"Ah. These are the skies above the Ice Continent. These cloudlands are generally considered uninhabitable even for qalupalik, ishigaq, and barbegazi. Even for Anti-Fairies. Nothing grows here. Nothing survives. Not even with magic. Without trees to cushion the gusts, the winds blow fiercely and erosion is a huge problem. The clouds shift often and it's only with massive magic that the Palace remains securely fastened as it is. This is where a great deal of our taxes go. It's costly, unpleasant, and lonely, so we just don't live in this area. It's called the FGP on purpose. I'm not sure what you were expecting." I blew warmth into my folded hands. "It makes the area unofficially neutral territory, so it's an excellent place to hold meetings. Let's get inside before you freeze."

"Before we go in. Over there?" The Purple Robe had us turn around, and pointed across the flat, rolling tufts of clouds to a blurry smudge in the distance. "On the horizon, you can just make out the Leaves Temple."

"The Leaves Temple was built above the Ice Continent, which has no plants of any kind?"

The Purple Robe shrugged. "I didn't build it. I imagine the ones who did hoped that it would bring new life to this land, and bloom in splendor. But it didn't. It's more of a museum than anything else, frozen in time like everything within it. All right. Let's go in."

It was warmer inside the Palace, though not by much. In the center of the tower, a glittering spiral staircase led up to the second level. A few enormous decorative plants (dead, frozen) had been placed symmetrically around the single room near the windows, but there was only one other set of doors. Tall, arched, pink doors on the opposite side of the room from where we were, marked by the golden insignia of a crown flanked by three unique pairs of wings. Similar designs, but with only one set of wings each, were emblazoned on each of the buildings throughout the cloudlands where the very highest authority figures for each class met. Even the Refracts had such a building, though if I remembered correctly, their tower was sealed shut with Lugh's spear still inside, and they'd sworn not to open it for at least another two hundred thousand years from now.

Sanderson started for the double doors, but I held up my staff to block his way. "We're not going there."

"But that's the meeting room, right?"

"Not ours. Follow me, and I'll explain on the way." I beckoned him towards the stairs. "There are a few different types of meetings that take place in this neutral building. We're attending a Council meeting. That's when all the Fairy ambassadors, as well as the Robes and the High Count and Countess of the Anti-Fairies, and the Refracts if they bothered to send down a representative, all meet together to discuss general business that concerns the cloudlands. Just internal cloudland stuff. A Policy meeting is different. Those occur if our races ever need to communicate with other races beyond the cloudlands."

Sanderson nodded. "Like Aliens, right?"

"Aliens, Milesians, Merfolk, Ghosts, Genies, Harpies, Witches, nature spirits. Hmm." I tapped my chin as we approached the upper floor. "Perhaps the Unwinged Angels someday."

"Oh. What about the Scary Worlders?"

"Who?" The stairs kept going higher, but the second floor was our place of business. I spotted the double doors (again, pink and arched) that led into the Council meeting room propped open quite a distance from the stairs. I do not know how that is not a fire hazard, but no one asked for my opinion.

"The Unwinged Demons who live on Plane 16," Sanderson supplied. "Technically, they live in the cloudlands. They're basically the Unseelie counterparts of the Angels, right? Except they only get one, not two like us, and they don't get Daoine. It's different for them."

"True. If the Demons ever form a civilized society, then they could probably send a representative to the Policy meetings, yes. Let me think of an example of what a Policy meeting has given the universe that you would know. Oh. When the Quadrant Pact Rules treaty was signed eons ago and our ancestors stopped pestering skyship travelers, we formed official trade routes between the cloudlands and Alien planets, and allied ourselves with a few races. Additionally, guardians of the crossroads between different Planes of Existence were granted diplomatic immunity, and this treaty is held by all the civilized races in our quadrant of the known universe." We had reached the open double doors, and I lowered my voice as I adjusted the lapels of my suit. "Anyway, only the highest heads of state sit in on Policy meetings. I answered because you asked, but you don't have to concern yourself about it. We won't be attending those."

Sanderson took hold of my arm, peering around me at the long brown table, half-filled with bored ambassadors. Three more tables were placed equidistant around the room on raised stages, the four Fairy Council seats nearest us and the three Anti-Fairy ones across the way on the left. The Refracted table, on the right side, had been decorated with a lace tablecloth and presented with a copy of the meeting's outline as always, but their three chairs - peach, rose, and lilac - were empty. Coated with cobwebs and dust. Never touched by Refract hands. Never even seen by Refract eyes.

"But aren't you a head of state, sir?"

"Not technically. Just the ambassador for the pixie race. Only representatives for the Fairy and Anti-Fairy classes as a whole sit in on Policy meetings, and Refracts if they wanted to. Pixies? We're just a subspecies under the Fairy umbrella."

"Oh." Sanderson brought his eyebrows together. "But if pixies became their own class, then you would go to Policy meetings?"

"In theory. Now let's figure out where I sit."

Nineteen chairs lined the left side of the table, and nineteen on the right. Each one was a little different than the last, tailored towards the stereotypes of each race. The High Count and Countess, of course, had chairs together on the left at the far end of the room, with their backs towards the Anti-Fairy Council's table. On the right, facing the Anti-Fairy Council table with her back to the Refracted one, I spotted Queen Vyanda representing the western elves. She stood behind her chair, as did the others, patiently awaiting some signal from the Robes that would allow us to sit. I took my place on her right, between the empty seat where the eastern elf ambassador would sit and the seat where the leprechaun representative did.

"Pixies get a swivel desk chair," I mused to Sanderson as I eased it out from the table with my staff. "Fair enough. The lack of arms is going to drive me up the wall. But at least it's upholstered."

"Where do I sit, sir?"

I glanced at Queen Vyanda, then over my shoulder. I drummed my fingers against the back of my seat. "I guess you get to stand on one of those column-like pedestals against the wall behind me. It looks like that's what the other escorts are doing."

"Oh." Sanderson started to retreat, but before he did, I perked up. A prickling, cool, blooming aura swept into my mouth. When I straightened and twisted around, the Blue Robe was there.

"May I have a word with you in private?" he asked, tilting his head back through the double doors.

"Um… May my escort come?"

"If you want, but it will be quick."

"I'll come," Sanderson said. He tilted up his chin. "I'm the Head Pixie's alpha retinue."

I slid my staff under the table and let the Blue Robe lead me outside the Council room again. He pulled me behind one of the propped doors, out of the way. His hands went up near my shoulders. "Hey! It's been a long time. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

I blinked. The voice was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. "Sorry? Have we met?"

"You don't remember me? Just elected Blue Robe three thousand five hundred years ago? First session on the Council? Come on, I had a great campaign slogan." He threw out one of his arms. "'Someone old, someone new, brighter futures with something Blue'."

"Um…" I fingered the two sharp cowlicks curling from beneath my hat. "I was in a will o' the wisp's burrow during the last election. Totally missed out."

"Ah." He tugged back his blue hood, revealing a still-boyish face, crooked teeth, and thick red curls. The moment it came off, he blinked back down to his regular size. I clapped my hands to my cheeks, then threw them forward.

"Cattahan? You were still a juvenile the last time I saw you."

He embraced me, the top of his head knocking against my chin. I let him, until he pushed me back by the shoulders. "I'm still so mad at you for embezzling from my parents' manor, Fergus, but you were always my favorite butler."

"You have absolutely no proof that was me, young master. Sacred smoof, you got bigger. A lot bigger."

"It's the extra magic bestowed on me by the Fairy Elder. Makes you swell up. That's why my face is swollen, too- there's so much of it, I'm constantly tingly all over." Cattahan kept a tight grip on my hands, still smiling faintly as he studied me. "You never outgrew those sharp corners. And of course, there's that whole 'pixie' thing. It's incredible, really… Dust, Fergus. I fought so hard for you, when your father brought the Whimsifinado v. Eros Nest case to court. But Aphrodite Protocol-"

"I know."

"And can you still do the thing?" When I hesitated, he brought his hands together. "You know. Tell me you can still do that thing."

I scratched behind my head. "Well, I haven't exactly tried lately… I mean, it's a pretty draining trick with few practical applications. And considerable health risks. Really. And with all the implications of identity theft, it's probably technically illegal. To be used in emergencies only. I'd rather not mess with my body that way if I can't prove it's safe. I'm also on magic ration until further notice, so don't expect it any time soon."

He smiled. "Well, it was great to see you, but we should get back in there. Enjoy the meeting." As he flipped his hood back over his head, he shifted back to his height of 7'7", and the golden eyes blinked on again. He paused. "Oh. And I don't think we ever covered this, but it's your job to pay attention to what's actually going on in the meeting. It's your escort's job to pay full attention to you. He shouldn't concern himself with taking notes or interjecting with comments. His absolute, utmost priority is your safety."

"Right. In case there's a problem, he needs to be on his toes to defend me. When there are other gynes involved especially."

The Blue Robe inclined his head, and disappeared inside the Council room again. "Who was that?" Sanderson asked, hovering near my shoulder.

"Oh, just an old friend."

"I didn't know him."

"Nope." I scuffed my shoe at the floor. "It was the romantic age of alchemy and everyone was messing with their magic. I was sugarloaded and some poor choices were made. In fact, we could say there were - ha - multiple poor choices made. A man has to have a few private tricks up his sleeve, Sanderson. You don't need to know everything about me."

He blinked. "Is… this going to come up again later?"

"Not as far as you're concerned. I'm saving this little quirk of pixie genes for a rainy gyne fight, and I'd rather word didn't get out about it beforehand. I rarely pull the element of surprise, but I do want to keep personal home field advantage on this one. Just in case. Let's go."

Sanderson and I returned to our places, decently far from the doors. The other ambassadors poofed in over the next several minutes. Kris Kringle, three seats to my left! It was only then I realized that in all the business with Rice and naming Sanderson my alpha retinue, I'd completely forgotten to grab the files I wanted to show him. They were in one of the binders on my office shelves, I was sure of it.

Oh well. Another day, then. I tapped my nails on the back of my chair to keep my mind moving. I had no pocketwatch, but I didn't need one. My brain never stopped ticking from the last time I'd seen a clock. My senses were perfectly accurate, to the point that in the future, during days when the Big Wand shut down and power outages wreaked the cloudlands, the Robes would call on pixies to report the correct times. Our Council meeting ought to have begun. We were starting late.

"It is now ten minutes after our planned starting time," said the Navy Robe at last, standing behind his tall chair with his arms crossed. His mustache twitched. "The Refracted, the Dwarves, and the Amazons do not seem inclined to join us. The doors will now be sealed."

"Upheld," chorused six more voices. As one, the seven Robes lifted their glowing right hands. The double doors clamped shut, and seven locks clicked into place in a quick, practiced flickering like tipping dominoes.

Okay. Seven all-powerful locks, and no windows in the meeting room. That looked like a fire hazard. Not to mention a gyne hazard- I could pick up on pheromones from at least six different drakes up and down the table. Seriously, doesn't anyone practice workplace safety? I was starting to understand why we were all told to bring escort companions to watch our backs.

"All assembled," said the Purple Robe. "Please be seated."

Ambassadors all around me drew out their chairs and settled down. The escort companions hoisted themselves onto their pedestals along the wall alcoves, some using wings and others using hands. No one lending assistance to anyone else. No one speaking. I could sense Sanderson stabilizing his feet on top of his own pedestal, turning his head left and right as he tried to figure out what the others were doing. He touched the handle of his gingertie wand in its sheath. I brought my hands together, fingers laced, and rested them on the table. Straight across from me, the satyr ambassador offered me a nervous smile. Lucu, I think his name was.

The Navy Robe, sitting in the middle seat at the Anti-Fairy table behind Lucu and the others, unrolled the scroll in front of him. It stayed unrolled even when he let go, and he sat back with his arms folded. "It's my turn to conduct our meeting today. For our first order of business, I have been asked to remind everyone gathered here that the angels are fast becoming a powerful and dominant species on Earth. All Earthsiders are instructed to monitor their homes carefully, including obtaining plentiful food storage. There is no telling if the angel threat will escalate. It is advised that all Earthsiders prepare for a move back to the cloudlands on short notice if need be. Should the Council ever be in unanimous agreement, or should the Fairy Elder or the Keeper of Da Rules put out a decree to pull back the Fairies, it is pertinent that the order be obeyed immediately."

I glanced up and down the table. No one else seemed interested in contributing to the discussion or asking questions, so I kept silent. My fingers tightened on the table's edge.

"Second order of business…"

I shifted in my seat. Was this me?

The Navy Robe tapped a claw against his protruding fang. "As most of us may know, the genie population was nearly wiped out entirely during the famine that drove them from Mars and brought them to settle on Earth. Within our lives, the last of the population was nearly wiped out entirely during the Great Ice Times. Those who did survive by sheltering in bottles, jugs, and other containers, tend to have aged to the point where they are effectively dormant, and encased forever in their, ah, 'lamps', I think these containers are called."

He glanced down at Anti-Bryndin and Anti-Elina, who had both turned around to look at him. "However, it has been brought to the attention of the Eroses that a young female genie was recently discovered. At this very moment, she is currently at the Eros Nest for breeding. The hope, of course, is to preserve and increase the critically endangered population. May I remind you all that genies cannot breed without assistance in our climate of nearly consistent year-round temperatures, and that they age and die much more quickly than we do. As always, anyone who encounters a genie of breeding age is asked to contact the Eroses immediately. I have been asked to emphasize 'immediately'. Not after 2,500 years of keeping them around for personal study."

Anti-Bryndin nodded emphatically. The Navy Robe leaned back in his chair again.

"Third order of business…"

Was this me?

"On the subject of the Eroses, I have been asked to remind you all that they are only doing their jobs when it comes to managing their facilities. Their bloodline was tasked in the ancient days by Aegnus himself to preserve all species in this quadrant of the known universe, and to maintain the health and preservation of neotypes for the education of all. Whimsifinado v. Eros Nest upheld the use of a yoo-doo doll to restrain disagreeable Fairykind. Aphrodite Protocol is upheld in matters of Eros business, as outlined by Aengus in the Year of the First Love."

I sighed inside my mouth and resisted the urge to lean forward and look to my right to see if Venus was staring at me with the usual triumphant toss in her messy braid.

"Fourth order of business. We as a people have made considerable progress in the cleaning efforts since the incidents with the polluted lightning in the Year of the Charged Waters." On his pedestal behind me, Sanderson started with a slight clench of his fist. The Navy Robe smoothed out his scroll. "However, I do have a serious matter of news. Over the past three thousand years, it has become increasingly obvious that the Earth fauna have been afflicted by the state of magic pollution in their food and water sources."

Sanderson tightened his fist, as though he thought he might be to blame for all of this just for having been born in the Spring of the Charged Waters himself. I turned my head so I could look at him and give him a reassuring gesture with my hand. He did not respond, but kept his mouth in a straight line, his face as impassive as his young features would allow him to be. Even so, his lip was clamped between his teeth.

The Navy Robe had placed one long claw against his temple. "The afflicted fauna are… showing indications of magic mixed with their genetics, and have been recorded experiencing the effects of dust overload, such as increased resistance to extreme elements, and even some evidence of shapeshifting, to the point where crossbreeding among completely different species has been confirmed. They have been rapidly breeding, adapting, and evolving. The Council has agreed to refer to them as Beasts and regard them from a distance until further notice. For now, we will continue to monitor the situation, and a public statement will be made if it's deemed necessary to do so."

I rubbed my fingertips along the edge of the table, but no one else appeared eager to add to the conversation, so I stayed silent.

"Fifth order of business." Here, The Navy Robe looked up and twisted to face the four Fairy Council members seated at the head of our long ambassador table. "As always, I request a vote to rebuild the Shadow Bridge between Luna's Landing and Inis Fáil, shattered during the War of the Sunset Divide."

I knew all about that. Ambrosine's team had been the ones to shatter it behind the last Anti-Fairies fleeing from Earth into the safety of the cloudlands, after all.

"Very well," said the Pink Robe. "All in favor of granting the Anti-Fairies another direct Bridge between the cloudlands and Earth, raise your right hand."

All three of the Anti-Fairy Robes did so. So did the Purple Robe at the Fairy Council table. So did Anti-Bryndin, Anti-Elina, and Anti-Phillip. A few ambassadors along our table likewise signalled assent, and after thinking about it for a second, I did too. Surprised heads turned towards me. A few soft mutters broke out, then died away. Anti-Bryndin fixed his red-orange stare on me like a crockeroo sizing up its next victim to prank. He stayed watching me even as I brought my attention back to the Council members.

"The vote rules against rebuilding the Shadow Bridge between Luna's Landing and Inis Fáil," said the Blue Robe. He shifted his fingers along the table. We voted again for the rebuilding of the Night Bridge, which had once connected the city of Shadeblink, Far West Anti-Fairy World to their Earthside capital, Solsbirth, down in present-day Tasmania. That had been shattered during the war too. The Navy Robe picked up his scroll again with a sigh.

"Sixth order of business." Finally, the Navy Robe glanced in my direction. "We welcome the pixies as participants on the Council of Ambassadors for the first time. Head Pixie, please rise and introduce yourself before the Council."

I pushed back my chair and stood. "Yes, my name is Fergus Whimsifinado. I am the Head Pixie. First representative of my race and glad to be here."

"What exactly qualifies you to be a subspecies under the Fairy umbrella?"

"Venus can vouch for it," I said, nodding up the table towards where she sat, seated beside King Northiae near the end. "I talked it through with her several times over these past five hundred years. Pixie reproduction is distinctly different from that of other Fairies, in that we are an all-male species who reproduce parthenogenetically. I jumped through every necessary hoop. Including leaving one of my offspring behind in her Nest facility to act as a neotype."

I was expecting a murmur of apologetic congratulation. There was only silence. Venus kept her hands and bow below the table, just watching me without expression. I envied her calm. I wanted to strangle her.

"Thank you for joining us, Head Pixie. You may sit."

And that was all. I sat down again.

And fell completely to the floor. My chair was gone. I lay stunned for a second, with the eastern elf and leprechaun ambassadors peering down at me from either side, their hands, knuckles bulging from how tightly they squeezed their mouths shut.

Where was my chair? I twisted around to look at Sanderson. My swivel chair was behind me, pulled farther back from the table than I remembered pushing it. Those stupid wheels. Sanderson stared at me with his eyes wide and wings up, but otherwise struggled to keep expressionless. Still rubbing the back of my neck, I stood up again and tried to ignore the smothered giggles around the table. So much for a council of majesty.

"The meeting is now open for general discussion," said the Navy Robe, eyeing me as he rolled up his scroll. I sat down again, only for a burst of wind to go off underneath me, and a small cushion to deflate. Oh. So someone was deliberately picking on me. Now that's different.

Or someones.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I know I'm speaking out of turn, but…" I took the wind cushion off my chair and held it up. "Really? May I ask whoever is playing juvenile games with me to knock it off?"

As I said this, I threw a deliberate glare down the table towards the far darrig ambassador. He looked back at me, the perfect picture of innocence. My chair went out from under me again, one of the wheels yanking forward as though snagged by some invisible coil or tail. I flipped over backwards and slammed into the floor, head cracking. Was there blood? Maybe there was blood. Sanderson took flight from his pedestal and shot towards me. Immediately, nine beams of light fired from across the room, slamming into his chest and shoulders and flinging him backwards. He hit the wall of his alcove and slid down, shocked, to his pedestal in a crumpled heap.

"Did you just shoot him?" I blurted, picking myself up again. The other escort companions- a bunch of them had just shot him! They blew colored trails of light from the transmitter of their wands, ducked their heads in guilt, or smugly crossed their arms, while those who hadn't fired kept their hands on their sheaths like they'd been about to shoot, but had hesitated due to Sanderson's youth more than anything else.

The moment I started to get up, a giant invisible hand seized me and pulled me back into my swivel chair (which had, somehow, straightened). My automatic reaction was to jerk both feet up to the table and shove backwards. My wheels rolled across the floor, and I lurched my body around so that I could face Sanderson again. Magical beams couldn't seriously harm him, but he was still on his hands and knees on his pedestal, four fingers to his chest, coughing where he'd been hit.

The chair abruptly stopped moving. It snapped forward so I faced the table again. The Navy Robe stared down at me, his fist clenched and glowing. He gave a yank and pulled me telekinetically back to the ambassador table. The invisible fist squeezed around me, using a massive invisible thumb to lift my chin.

"Order is to be maintained in the meeting room."

"What was that?" I protested, making another attempt to kick off the table. "My chair- Someone- Someone just shot my- pixie!"

"He left his place," said the Navy Robe without emotion, "but I think he knows now not to do it again. No harm will come to you in the Council meeting room today. As we all must, you are simply passing through initiation."

"And initiation has juvenile pranks in it."

He waved his hand as he released me from his mental clutches. "It's a tradition first begun by the far darrig ambassador seven hundred thousand years ago, so we all must learn to keep serious in times of humor and yet remember to see the good in times of trial, to remember that even in times of peace, we must always be watchful of those we call our friends…"

I blocked out his words and placed both hands to my forehead, my elbows braced against the table and fingers creeping beneath my hat. Even memory retrieval for the purpose of writing this text has failed to retrieve what he said.

But a wind cushion?

For the rest of the brief meeting, as news was shared and suggestions were made, I remained in my chair, turned as perpendicular as possible so that I could keep one eye on Sanderson. He curled in a ball with his hands around his head, palms flattened against his ears. The other eye, I kept on Anti-Phillip, sitting not far down the other table from where I sat.

I had no idea what the turnover rate was for the other ambassadors, but I did have some sense of how it went for Anti-Fairies. Anti-Bryndin was young, but how much longer, I wondered, would it be before the heir became High Count and was coronated as ambassador to the Anti-Fairies? I wasn't even the most creative type, but even I could pull off a hazing ritual with much more dignity and creativity than a wind cushion. I mean, really. These supposed calculating minds and power players on the political field embarrassed themselves, not me. Oh, when the new High Count took command, he was going to be in for it.

Exactly what I planned to do… I'd think about that later. I just knew it was going to be unforgettable. Of course, Anti-Phillip was already attending the meeting today, so he was already a witness to what was going on. Such a shame; wouldn't it be wonderful to get in a completely new High Count? Well, I was Head Pixie. My position was for life. We'd get new blood in here eventually. He'd pick a High Countess eventually. I could pull the wool over her eyes. I was a master calculator with hundreds of millennia of party experience and bouncy social crowds behind me. I'd been hazed a dozen times in school, and been a hazer a hundred times more. When my turn came to be the one on the other side, it was going to be glorious. As I kept my one eye fixed on Anti-Phillip, I cracked my knuckles together below my chin. Maybe I couldn't prepare something huge and memorable for every new ambassador who hurried in on short notice, but I could prepare for the takeover of the High Count position, and the inevitable High Countess who came along with him.

I spent the meeting subject to similar cliché pranks. I'm honestly not sure how many of those present were paying attention to the meeting, because several of them seemed like they wanted to catch my attention with this children's game in some way that related back to their race's stereotypes or traditions where applicable. When it was over, we were released from our social constraints and informed that there would be refreshments in the neighboring room should we desire to partake of them. Apparently, we had a neighboring room. The other ambassadors began to filter out. I pushed my chair under the table, grabbed my staff, and crossed straight over to Sanderson.

Or, I tried too. First, I tripped over my shoelaces and crashed jaw-first into the ground. When I'd arrived in this room, my shiny shoes hadn't even had laces. Stupid magic being allowed in the Council room. Thankfully, my pouch was empty, or I would not have taken this all as in stride as I did.

Sanderson leaned against the alcove wall until he saw me coming. Then he straightened up, arms stiff by his sides. "Let me see," I said, holding out my hand.

He had a tear in the front of his new shirt. At my instruction, he untucked it and lifted it so I could better see his skin. No bruise. No singe marks. I felt his chest with my fingertips, but didn't detect any sign of internal damage either. My senses indicated a healthy fagiggly gland, and the magic in his blood seemed to be running in his veins uninterrupted. I withdrew my hand and rubbed my chin.

"Well, you're not hurt. Can you hover? Good. Let's see what they have here in terms of refreshments. I for one haven't eaten in hours."

I took one step and almost fell down again. My foot skidded. I stumbled, maintaining my balance with a few quick flaps of my wings and by jabbing the head of my golf club against the ground. When I looked down, a speckled banana peel lay pinned beneath the heel of my shoe. I shot my gaze around the room, but couldn't spot the culprit who had left it there. Most of the ambassadors had already left, or were leaving, chatting as they headed towards the door. No one seemed to be paying us any attention.

"These aren't even good pranks," I muttered, lifting my foot away. I checked the room again. But as I kept walking, my foot hit another banana.

One I didn't know was there.

My effervescence caught in my throat. I glanced around one more time, pressing my hands against my cheeks. A squeak sprang unbidden from my lips. I shook my head. Then I pulled Sanderson close with my staff, avoiding his whirring wings. "Sanderson? You made a mental map of this room when we came in, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"Well, it's changed. That map doesn't work anymore. Don't use it. We need new ones." I lit my own wings and bobbed beside him. "Now, keep your wand drawn. I'll lead you where we want to go. You watch for any obstructions."

I anticipated not stepping on any more banana peels now that I was off the ground, but only two seconds later, I flew straight into a hairy, dangling thing that I could only assume was a spider. I slapped it out of the air, tearing cobwebs from my eyes. The Anti-Fairies must have left that one.

"Come on."

We made our way out of the meeting room and around the upper floor to a white door with a tricolored crown on it. A light glowed on the other side of its window and, unsurprisingly, when I peeked in, a social gathering involving refreshments was already going on. I counted three long tables decorated with white tablecloths that touched the ground, each one laden with appetizer snacks, cardboard platters, and bowls of steaming soup. The table farthest to the right held shining sodaglasses in a stack, and where there were sodaglasses, there must be soda. Excellent.

The door was slightly propped open, so I pushed it and floated inside. A metal bucket dumped perfectly on my head. Glittering purple and silver dust dumped in my hair and down my clothes. With a roll of my eyes, I touched my fingertip to the rim and tilted the bucket back.

"Okay. This one I can actually appreciate. Ilisa Maddington would be proud. This must be the wisp ambassador's rite of passage. Speaking of which." I removed the bucket from my head and looked around the room. Several circular tables had been set up over on the left, allowing for casual dining and conversation. I craned my neck. "There's the person I want to look at. Hey!" She turned, the candlelight flickering off her glasses, and I raised my staff to wave. "Magalee, it's me. You do remember, right? Fergus Whimsifinado? We were in the same cohort all the way through upper school. In fact, I believe we were lab partners in potion studies every year."

Magalee put up her arms in a V as she floated over. "Eyyy, there he is. My favorite freckle-face survived life. And to think everyone says not to get attached to gynes because they'll just get killed off young. Who's laughing now? I see you survived my traditional meeting greeting, buckethead. Sorry. You know the rules. You're looking fine. How have you been?"

"Well…" I placed the bucket by my feet and raked my fingers through my hair. "I'm the Head Pixie now. That kind of happened."

"True." She finally reached my side and, looking me up and down, folded her arms. Her staff was white wood manticore-striped with black, split into a fork at one end. She kicked her feet slightly forward. "What should I do? Buy you dinner sometime? We could catch up. Seriously, it's been ages since graduation."

"The offer is appreciated. However, I'm afraid we need to be going soon." I placed my hand on Sanderson's head. "The other pixies are waiting for us back in the village."

Magalee noticed Sanderson for the first time then, and her free hand flew to her mouth. "This is a different little guy from the one we coronated. He looks just like you. I mean…" She tilted her head. "I seem to remember you being a lot chubbier than this scrawny li'l tyke when we were juveniles, but the resemblance is stunning."

I pointed to my pouch. "And I normally have another pixie in here too. Did Venus or the Council catch you up on the state of things?"

"Nope. They just told us to get our butts up here." Magalee glanced over me up and down and whistled. "Two younglings and another anklebiter at your heels? You've been busy."

"Actually, I've given birth eleven times."

"Whaaat? No way. Who are you and whatever happened to the drake who couldn't catch a damsel?"

I raised my shoulders and let them drop. "He got bigger."

"So I see!" She grinned. "We really do need to catch up. Though, it sounds like each of us are raising bumper crops in the nest, so maybe we'll just have to chat a bit whenever we meet up here. Smoof, let me see how much I remember from my school days. Didn't we all hide behind the shelves and jump you when you got your first kiss in the library? She was the TA for advanced transformation sciences, right? Hey, I seem to remember you never figured out how to turn into anything smaller than a rabbit. How's that going?"

"She was my third, but you're not wrong otherwise. You did jump us and I never forgave you." I rolled my eyes. "Dust, it's been ages. Where did all the time go? Seems like we were just nymphs the other day. Remember when you snuck your Kiss of Frost into that juice box back in Spellementary School and paralyzed my limbs all recess?"

Magalee laughed. "What? Did that really happen? Little me was a monster."

"We were only 516; I'm not surprised you don't remember. But what about that time in high school when you and Tobie did your midterm project on will o' the wisp courtship behaviors? And- and-" I gestured aimlessly with my golf club as I tried to find the words. "Remember that time you enchanted those tibeaver bodies we were all dissecting in Drk. Cloudjump's wildlife biology class to float over and corner him because earlier you'd tricked him into raising those cups to his eyes, and you'd soaked them in ink so they left dark circles on his face like crockeroo markings?"

"Oh my dust, I did, didn't I? I heard he never did another dissection as long as he was teaching that class. What can I say? Maddington's joking runs in my veins, and I was trying to impress a cute far darrig. You know what pranksters they can be." Magalee reached forward to fix my hat, which had started slipping backwards when I'd started waving my staff around. Before she could connect, Sanderson positioned himself between the two of us, with his hands inside his pockets and his chin held high.

"I'm sorry, sir. Who exactly is this?"

I coughed. "Right. I didn't make proper introductions. Magalee Dustfinger, Sanderson."

"So who is she?" Sanderson asked again.

"Just your papa's ex." Magalee undid her pegasustail and began to tie it up again. "We went steady all through upper school."

I rolled my eyes a second time. Typical Magalee. "We weren't exactly together. You were a wisp, I was a fairy. We went to one dance. Which we both showed up to stag. We danced together for one song."

She acknowledged this correction with a shrug. "But, you walked me back to my dorm. Then you stayed over. We drank soda with my roommates and played fidchell all night."

"That did happen, yes. I seem to remembering winning every game."

"That would be just like you."

Sanderson frowned and bobbed to the right. "So is any of this actually important to know, sir? It doesn't seem important to me."

"Sanderson." I tapped the back of his head with my staff. "Let me reminisce. I did have a life before you were born."

"You did? Where was I when this happened?"

Magalee snickered at his response and fixed her glasses. "He's adorable, but it sounds like my escort companion just finished up in there, and I want you to meet her." She turned her head as a smaller figure trotted over from the refreshment tables with a cardboard platter in one hand. "Her name's Idona Ivorie. Cute kid, excellent jumper, and top of her class."

A few of my lines fritzed together. I grabbed my cheek, on automatic alert for Kalysta. It was a foolish thing to do, because obviously Magalee had only been allowed one companion just as I had, so I really can't justify why I reacted so strongly to the mere thought of Kalysta's presence. I simply thought that it should be noted for reasons.

Sanderson and Idona looked at each other. Then, as one, they lifted their hands and made finger wands at each other. "Heeey! I know you."

"Hi!" Idona jumped into flight, wings a blur, stirring the air in a thick and heavy way. "You're still square."

"Your wings are still purple and black."

"Yeah, and you're still short," she said, looking down at him. I studied her from my position behind Sanderson, still squeezing my face in one hand. Idona's blonde hair had grown out long enough to pull it back in a braid. Her eyes were still that weird pale shade of pink that didn't look right against her red dress, or the huge blue and green knitted hat on her head. The dress was short around her knees and plain in terms of fabric, and the hat had begun to get ratty. I could smell her even from here, and I'm not referring merely to her imprint in the energy field. Smudges of dirt stuck to her neck and near her ears. Not quite as big on hygiene as her mother? I had the distinct impression that if Idona could choose, she intended on looking the way she did right now for the rest of her life.

"Do you remember my name?"

Idona grinned. "Mister."

"No, that's my school name. My regular name is Sanderson. Donnie."

"Oh, stop."

Magalee floated a bit closer to me. "What is happening here?"

I forced my eyes away from the pair and focused my attention on the wisp at my shoulder instead. "Oh, uh… Sanderson and I had an… encounter with some will o' the wisps once." I gestured to my double cowlicks. Magalee stared at them, then clapped a hand to her head.

"That's the Ivorie brand in your hair. Dust, I'm thick. You were in the Mid-Northern Reaches at some point, and I didn't even know?"

"It was only for nine months. I made it out alive. And, I got some tasty revenge." I loosened the grip on my shirt. My lines steadied out in the energy field again. I exhaled. "Did Kalysta ever say anything at one of your Gatherings about Kris Kringle fusing a ladder into the side of her burrow's exit chamber?"

"That was you?" Magalee's hand went to her mouth again, not quite covering her grin. "She has never stopped ranting about that. Oh my dust, you used your Krisday wish on that? This is dazzled."

"Heh. That was me." I glanced up at the ceiling. "How is she? Kalysta?"

Magalee tipped her head. "Doing well, I think? That's the tricky thing about gossip- you never know how much of it to believe. Let me think. You were down there almost four thousand years ago? So there's only been one season since. I remember she had another daughter. Blue-haired. Canary, I think her name is."

So Walt had gotten his damsel after all. Good for him.

Magalee eyeballed me, but it was in a distant sort of way- not like she was actually sizing me up as an option for breeding stock. She tipped her head even further. "Probably her last one before she retires and leaves the fertile drakes for the younger crowd. We're getting old, Fergus."

"Please call me H.P. And when you go back to the Reaches, maybe don't… tell Kalysta. That I'm Head Pixie. I'm creating a new future for myself and my race. I don't want to get tangled in my past. I don't favor your ways and I don't want to see her ever again. I'd rather she didn't get any ideas. Eros stuff."

"No problem; I'm on your level. Lived up in Fairy World for a good chunk of my life, remember? I get it. I'll tell Idona that you and Sanderson are a secret. She loves secrets."

"Thank you. I appreciate it immensely. And…" My gaze dropped. "Wait, where did they go?"

Magalee and I glanced around our immediate surroundings for our companions, and she pointed towards the dessert table. I was just in time to spot a small black shoe disappearing underneath the tablecloth. "Catching up like this was neat," I told Magalee as I started off, "but I'm going to have to ask you to excuse me until next time."

She tapped my shoulder with her staff. I turned, and she caught my hand. "Hey. About the pranks, Fergus. No one wants to hurt you. They're just testing you out, trying to figure out where you stand and if you have a sense of humor." She smiled. "It's just a little rite of passage. Have a little fun with it. We're Fairies. We like to see people happy. You'll make friends."

… I did need friends. I still had no one to watch my pixies when I was to meet with Iris. Even so, I grimaced. "This has to be against Da Rules."

Magalee shrugged, her smile fading. "Well, it's a bit of a game, but it's a serious kind of game. If you can't defend yourself from sneak attacks, how are we supposed to trust you to defend your charges?"

"Uh, you could maybe trust me not to backstab or irritate my allies?"

Magalee let go of my hand. "Sometimes it's hard to make allies when the social ladder is vertical instead of sideways. This is all partially why we're allowed escort companions- to watch out for things like this. Speaking of which." She leaned forward, still floating, and brought her hand to my far cheek. "You'd better go get yours. I'm gonna make a move on some of those cheese cubes." Then she kissed the tip of my nose. "Catch ya next time, gray."

I placed my fingers to my face as she flitted away, and smiled very slightly. How sweet. Maybe even annoying damsels grow up.

Halfway to the refreshment table Sanderson and Idona had disappeared under, a furry blue figure veered in front of me and forced me to pull up short. His eyes were the first thing I drank in, since they were electric orange and stood out quite strongly against the rest of his blue and black color scheme. A puff of dark blue hair like a dab of frosting bunched between a pair of inward-curved horns that must make every kirin and yale who saw them pine with envy. The black goatee sprouting from his chin, coupled with the purple freckles half-buried among cheek fuzz that had been mussed and plucked at until the accompanying "mustache" fur pattern had been physically removed, declared he had a gyne counterpart on the other side.

Unlike most other anti-fairies I'd encountered (or Anti-Fairies for that matter), the pants he wore weren't cut from dark cloth, but from pale blue. One thing that actually wasn't blue was the black crocheted scarf wrapped around his neck, held in place not with a knot and tie as I would have done, but with an enormous yellow button on the right. In his hand, he clutched a scepter topped by a multi-faceted gem and flanked with two bat-like wings. His fangs were long worn, their color leaning towards yellow and gray, but he flashed them at me in a smirky grin nonetheless.

"So, you are Head Pixie. I am High Count. We should go make something of it together."

"Uh." I craned my head over his shoulder. "Give me a moment, Esteemed High Count. If you don't mind, I need to speak with my-"

"Shh." Anti-Bryndin pushed his claw against my lips. "Long tradition is for new ambassadors to eat dinner among the High Count and Countess of the Anti-Fairies. The habit is old. Will you disappoint me?"

My crossed eyes dropped to the glinting claw. "Um. I'll need to make arrangements, but dinner at your castle sounds possible. What time would you like me to come over?"

"17:00 on Wednesday. Is this okay?"

I waited. Anti-Bryndin didn't go on, but watched me with his head tilted to one side. The uppermost pad of his finger squished my mouth until it touched my teeth. Not certain how he would react, I touched my hand to his wrist and eased him off. "Which timezone are you using as reference?"

"Blue. That's the time I will see you."

By the time I had calculated the numbers in my head, he'd already turned around. "High Count, that's not going to work," I said, skimming after him. "I have a previous engagement Wednesday at 10:00 Rainbow Time with Amity- it overlaps-"

Anti-Bryndin twirled around, nearly swiping my nose with the thumbclaw on his wing. He positioned himself so his eyes were just below mine… but his horns were innocently level with them. Then he smiled. "No previous engagements. There is only dinner with me. Remember it. Dress nice. It will be enjoyed."

"Uh…" I stared at him for a second. "No. I can't make that time. We need to work out something else. Perhaps we could squeeze in breakfast or lunch instead."

"Wednesday at 17:00."

"High Count, that doesn't work."

Anti-Bryndin cocked his head. His fingers slid up to the yellow button on his scarf. He watched me watch him, and then he arched one eyebrow. "That's when I am serving dinner. I hope you come."

"But…" The protest died on my tongue. All I could do was squint. He was High Count, and word gets around over the centuries. I knew he worshipped Winni, the nature spirit of Communication, and sketchy rumors surrounded the origin of his conversational skills. The gossip warned that what Anti-Bryndin wanted, Anti-Bryndin got. Since my involvement with Anti-Fairies had never spread so high up the ladder before, I'd never paid much attention. That's why I'm just bringing it up now instead of back when it wasn't relevant.

But so what if people said he knew how to play the field of manipulation? He'd never met me, and I could surely give him a run for his lagelyn. My snapjik face, dominant gyne pheromones, and sharp attention to detail granted me the upper hand in the sweeping majority of my interactions with other people.

That's what I'd always told myself, anyway. But this was ridiculous. How was I even supposed to argue with him? Logic was apparently useless. In fact, resisting him at all was useless. May as well conserve my breath and give him what he was asking for.

"Is this okay?"

I tightened my jaw. "Yes, High Count. Wednesday, 17:00, Blue Time. I'll be there."

Anti-Bryndin's eyes softened. He let go of the button. Instead, he reached out with his left hand and took my chin with his forefinger and thumb. Before I realized what was going on, he kissed me on the lips. It was a soft kiss that didn't pass my teeth, but it left me stunned as Anti-Bryndin fluttered his fingers at me and flew off to join Anti-Elina and Anti-Phillip by the soup table.

"What?" I said into empty space. I rubbed his touch off my skin with the back of my wrist. It hadn't even involved any acidic saliva, but it certainly was odd. Even the Refracted, famous for their pecking, planted their kisses on cheeks when greeting strangers and friends alike.

I glanced across the room. No one seemed to be paying me all that much attention- even Magalee had found someone else to talk to. No one cared. Maybe this was normal? I took a second to stare off in the direction Anti-Bryndin had gone, scratching my hair. He'd taken his position as High Count sometime between the brownie uprising in Great Sidhe and those years I'd spent in Bumblegrass working with the coffee plants back when I'd been wandering Earth. Okay, so the way he strung his sentences together was a little off, but he was a smart guy. He'd been leading his entire race for millennia, after all. So…

"Must be an Anti-Fairy thing," I muttered, and wiped my lips again. It made sense, I supposed; if we Seelie Courters kissed our intimate partners, maybe they just went around kissing everyone. Who knew. We hadn't touched on Anti-Fairy culture much in school, beyond the all-encompassing basics. Something which, now that I was Head Pixie, would have to change for my pixies.

Then I sucked in my cheeks. Now what? Show up to my appointment with Iris and miss dinner with Anti-Bryndin? Show up to dinner with Anti-Bryndin and miss my appointment with Iris? Neither option particularly appealed to me.

Oh well. I'd deal with that mess later. For now, I floated over to the dessert table and lifted the cloth away with the head of my staff. Idona and Sanderson stared guiltily up at me, their pockets and mouths stuffed with chocolate chip cookies. It was actually quite a relief. With cookies in their mouths, it meant the Kiss of Frost wasn't.

"You two work fast," I remarked as I grabbed Sanderson's arm and pulled him out, "but you're both underage. Spit them out."

Sanderson shook his head, crumbs flying. I fixed him with a solid stare over my glasses, then snapped my fingers twice when even that didn't get him moving. Sanderson removed the two cookies he'd stuffed into his mouth and dropped them in my free hand. While he made this gesture, I dragged him down the hall and around the corner. The cookies went into my pocket.

"Hey! I can follow you myself."

Behind the yellowed fronds of a particularly bushy plant, I dropped his wrist and turned on him. "Sanderson, you're young, so I'll forgive you this time. But from now on, when we come to the Council meetings, I don't want you being friendly with Idona."

He frowned. "Why? She's my friend."

"You haven't seen her for ages. How do you even remember her?"

"I saw her when I went to Spellementary for one day. Then I just didn't forget she existed. Duh. We're friends."

"That was almost 3,500 years ago. You were just a nymph. Nymphs don't remember things."

Sanderson tipped his head. "Don't you remember things from when you were a nymph? I do. 3,500 years isn't very long. When was the last time you saw Magalee?"

I exhaled. "That's different. I'm an adult, and I have a better memory than you. You're still just a nymph."

Sanderson puffed out his chest. "I'm a juvenile."

"You'll always be a nymph to me. Sanderson, look up. Listen." I snapped my fingers to get his attention again and held his gaze with mine. "You can't be friends with Idona."

"Yeah I can."

I frowned. "Okay, that's an impressive argument, but I'm asking you not to."

Sanderson frowned back at me, his eyebrows hovering and tilted like they usually became when he didn't like where a conversation was going. "But why? I like her. She's nice. She's funny. She's cute."

My eye twitched in the corner. "Sanderson." I knelt down and took his shoulder with the hand that didn't hold my staff. "If you are friendly with Idona, she will steal you away to Earth forever, and hide you from me, and you'll never get to see me again."

"What?" Sanderson's wings rustled against his spine in a cranky way. He threw out his arms. "Who even does that?"

"Will o' the wisp damsels do. All will o' the wisp damsels." I took both his wrists in my hand and pushed them down. "Next time we come here, and every time after that, don't talk to Idona the way you might talk to another pixie. This is a place of business. I expect you to behave around her the way you were taught to behave around clients who came to Wish Fixers. Unless you're forced to acknowledge her presence, pretend she isn't there."

Sanderson wavered at this, physically shifting himself from foot to foot as he thought. "But we can still be friends, though."

I clenched his hands. "Will o' the wisps don't have friends. The only have drakes that they hurt and torture."

He stuck out a pouting lower lip. "But you're friends with Magalee."

"Only for today."

"Well, she sure acted like you guys were friends in school. You knew each other for a really long time. She said you danced with her. You were lab partners every year."

I shut my eyes. "Magalee isn't much of a friend to me. She and I were just schoolmates who took a lot of the same classes at the same time, and we had mutual friends. That's different."

"Why is everything always different when it's you?" Sanderson tore his hands back from mine and stamped his foot. "You always give me rules and try to take away my choices. Why can't I like wisps when you can, sir? You said that if my personal life doesn't interfere with my work life, you would stay out of my business. You said! So decide already." He looked up at me then, and pointed a finger at my nose. "H.P., if you're my boss, then you can't tell me who I can't be friends with, because we believe in separation of work and home. If you're my dad, then we're a family, and you have authority to micromanage my personal life. Which is it?"

I let my flexing hand hover above his shoulders, biting my lip. The answer to that question was obvious.

"Okay," I said. My glasses had slipped down my nose. I pushed them back up with the handle of my club. "Sanderson, you are an employee of mine whose workplace benefits include room and board. As far as I am concerned, you are hired to come into work and perform your duties efficiently. If you do that, I will stay out of matters such as what you choose to eat, how much you choose to sing, when precisely you choose to fall asleep after Lights Out, or whom you choose to spend time with. That's what we agreed when you first began working for me. We signed a contract, too. Thank you for bringing this up with me. You have my permission to talk to Idona during the Council meetings."

"And?" he asked, never lowering the finger. His jaw tightened.

"And…" I curled my fingers into my knee. "Provided it doesn't interfere with your working life, you may talk with her any other time you see her. Please be smart. And come see me if you ever have questions about life and the universe."

"Maybe," he said, tipping back his hat, "but then again, that's my business."

I folded my wings. "You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?"

"Whatever."

The bitter word caught me so off guard that I didn't stop him when he flitted back to join Idona at the dessert table. I stood, slowly, and watched him slide past her too fast. He hit the table with a thump. She glanced at him over her shoulder, he smiled a strained smile, and she turned back to talking with Queen Vyanda's young son. When Sanderson fetched her a glass of icy water, from my standpoint, she hardly responded with a thank you.

He looked back at me. His teeth had started to clench. His shoulders had started to collapse. His fingers were curled in the air

I could have snapped my fingers and urged Sanderson back to my side. I also could have pointed him towards the acorn muffins she had liked so much as a nymph. Instead, I did nothing but look back at him without expression. Sanderson had made his choice. It wasn't my business.

His gaze moved between me and Idona. And when she and Magalee moved to sit at one of the circular tables, he scampered after them, calling her name.

"How did that happen?" I muttered, squeezing my tie. Logically, I understood that although Sanderson's physical age might be 3,506, nymphs aged rather quickly until they hit the mental age of ten lines (the three they were presented with at birth not included). They were stuck there, then, for the longest period of all, as their bodies spent more than a hundred and twenty thousand years working to catch up with the brain. From then on, they would grow together, and lines could be counted to determine age as the Fairy progressed to upper school and beyond.

But ten was the magical number of the universe, where time seemed to stall and drag out forever. That was why the term 'nymph' applied only to young Fairies under the age of fifty, and they went off to school still so young and small, because their rapidly-expanding minds needed that stimulation. They were learning things, exploring the universe and themselves. So I recognized and understood that the Sanderson chasing a young and pretty damsel across the room wasn't exactly the baby who liked to cuddle up in my pouch anymore. But still…

I massaged my cheek. "When did he start growing up?"

I picked out a simple sandwich, a cob of corn, and, after some hesitation, went against the soda. There would be other Council meetings with other ambassadors to coronate. When they were already playing games with me, perhaps it wasn't wise to let them tempt my sugarloaded self.

The others noticed too, and flitted about me as I headed to join Sanderson and the wisps at the corner table. The soda was orange, which was my favorite, but I resisted. A few of the ambassadors drew away reluctantly after I sat down, evidently unwilling to go through with their plans to torment me so long as I remained sober. A few of them were more forward- some offering spicy food, others blatantly approaching me with smirks across their faces. The far darrig ambassador even managed to loop a bit of twine around one of my teeth under the pretense of helping me pick out a particularly stuck leaf, then slammed the door across the room. Since the twine was connected to the knob, it yanked the tooth completely out. I think it put him off to see I wasn't upset. Why should I be? They fell out and regrew on a constant basis anyway. Though, they'd gotten awfully soft and painful during my time spent at the Eros Nest…

"It was good to see you again, Sandy," Idona called eventually, flickering her fingers as she followed Magalee out of the room.

"You too, Donnie," Sanderson shouted back, making the same gesture. Once they'd gone, his shoulders slumped. He dropped his chin onto his knuckles. Then he looked at me. His eyebrows went up in the middle. "H.P., do you have to eat your corn like that? It's… weird."

That wasn't the first thing I'd expected out of his mouth. I evaluated myself, elbows on the table, the cob suspended between my pointer fingers and balanced on my thumbs. "I always eat corn like this."

"Yeah, but…" Sanderson glanced over my shoulder, then at me again. He shrank into his wings. "People are whispering and laughing at us."

"Suck it up. They were already laughing at me. Now eat your corn." I took another bite. It was good corn.

He sighed, but picked up his knife in his left hand. With his right, he tipped up his cob so it balanced on one end on his plate, and proceeded to scrape the kernels off.

"Don't do that," I said, putting mine down. "Eat it on the cob. That's how pixies eat. It'll help your teeth. I've experimented, and there are certain ways of chewing on things that-"

Sanderson slammed his hands on the table and shot up, wings flared. "It's just corn! I can eat it how I want. You can't tell me how to eat corn!"

I knit my fingers together. "Sanderson, do you need more licks?"

"No! I don't need licks! I just want to eat my corn! Hey! Stop it!"

I'd leaned over and grabbed the collar of his shirt in my fist. As he squirmed, I pulled him across the table and planted several licks across his forehead and cheeks. Sanderson whined, a caught whirr in his throat. His fingers bunched the tablecloth beneath his hands. But, as always, he melted against my tongue and quieted down after a few seconds. When I paused, he stretched forward to add a few submissive strokes to the side of my neck.

"If you're finished," I said, letting go of him, "then I imagine it's time to ping home. Or rather, get the Purple Robe to ping us home." I stood and brushed crumbs, corn kernels, and tufts of Rice's fur from my lap. My hands passed across the pockets of my suit. I paused. They felt flat. I checked them again. The crumbling cookies were there, but nothing else. "That's odd. Where's my Council meeting stamp card? And my cloudland magic usage license? And my lagelyn? And my keys?" I stared forward for almost an entire blank minute, then rounded on Sanderson. "I've been pickpocketed. At the Council of Ambassadors. But the only one I let close enough to…"

Sanderson squirmed a foot into the floor. Evidently, the magic of guilt was weighing down on him as he thought about how he was supposed to be my escort companion - not to mention my alpha retinue drone - and watch my back at all times. I clenched my fists.

"Magalee."

When she'd leaned forward to plant that kiss on my nose… Instead of running off in a futile attempt to find her, I simply tugged my hat down over my eyes and fumed a short time in silence. You'd think a drake would learn.

"It wasn't everything you hoped it would be," Sanderson guessed, touching my elbow. "Was it, sir? Cotton candy oatmeal?"

Oh, the Council meetings were an approach-avoidance conflict if ever I saw one. I shoved my hat back up with one finger, stared towards the door where Magalee had gone, and then gave a single nod. Spinning on my heels, I snatched up my staff and started off in the opposite direction to find the Purple Robe. "Cotton candy oatmeal. Let's ditch this popstar show."

"That's 'standing popsicle', H.P."

"Whatever."

---

A/N - For those of you reading this chapter down the road after becoming familiar with Frayed Knots, yes, pixies still do the "my mental map no longer matches this area and now I need to stop and recalculate" thing in this story. We've actually seen H.P. doing his "brain reboot" behaviors throughout the whole 'fic as appropriate, but this is the first time attention has been called to it. If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry about it. We'll discuss it in Knots, but it doesn't really play into Origin because it's a behavior easier for an outsider to recognize. Pixies still do the thing, but it's not a thing that's important in this 'fic.

Also, you get bonus points if you caught the throwbacks to "A Grain of Truth": Ambrosine being on the team to shatter the Shadow Bridge, the phrase "cotton candy oatmeal", and Vyanda being the western elf ambassador. You get more bonus points if you remember Sanderson mentioning his recipe for acorn muffins at the very beginning of my fanfic Baby, You're a Rich Man, as well as mentioning later that Idona was the only girl he'd ever kissed. He never said he only kissed her once~!