Page 19 of The Guardians of Dreamdark
“Eh?”
“Not an hour ago she turned the queen’s hair to worms—”
Snoshti snorted. “Worms?”
“Aye, worms. Shivered herself some, I ken. The lass has got magic in her she don’t know what to do with.”
“Is that why ye’ve come now? It en’t time. She’s still a sprout.”
“Aye, that she is.” Calypso sighed. “Didn’t Algorab tell ye not to get in a fuss? ’Pie had her own reason to come. She means to find the Magruwen.”
Snoshti snorted again. “The Magruwen? She’s afraid of the stage but wants to find the Magruwen?”
“That’s my ’Pie. Ye wouldn’t know where we might find him, now?”
“Neh, bird! And ye know how we’ve searched!”
“Ach, well, I thought not. Now if ye’ll pardon me, madam, my cue. We’ll talk more later?” He hopped toward the stage entrance. “Over scones?” he called back to her.
Snoshti chuffed. Scones! Crow was begging for treats. Well, small price. Her lass was back. She reached out to catch a wandering beetle with her crook. “The Magruwen, eh, missy?”she murmured, pondering. She drove the beetles back into the forest to find a quiet place to disappear. There was something she’d need to fetch.
“Mad faeries, swooping mad shouty faeries...” Batch whimpered as he skittered along the forest floor as fast as his meaty haunches would carry him. He’d never have escaped if the faeries hadn’t swooped down like that, too near the crack where master lurked. They didn’t know. They only saw the vultures, sure.
They couldn’t know.
On wheezed Batch, grateful now he wasn’t slowed by his wheelbarrow. He didn’t even have the pomegranate to weigh him down anymore. Er, the turnip anyway.
Master wasn’t pleased about that.
“Munch turnip, devil!” Batch muttered. A pomegranate, a turnip. How was he to know the Magruwen had tricked him? It occurred to Batch now that master didn’t even eat fruits. He ate...well, he didn’t eat fruits. What did he want a pomegranate for? It didn’t matter. Batch was out of it now.
“Scurry scurry, little furry, through the forest, what’s your hurry?”he sang low and wheezy, urging himself on.
There had been such a scuffle. The tattooed faeries, swooping in with that war cry. They’d crashed a vulture, and Batch had cheered them on. But then out came that liver-colored tongue, long as a lash. It got the old faerie first, and the younger ones went wild and threw their knives into the dark. Sure it wentquick after that, but Batch was already on his way. No need to stick around for a good look.
Poor faeries.
In the darkness of the catacombs, master had been just a voice to him, a terrible voice. Batch hadn’t seen anything then, and he’d scarcely gotten a better look since. Master was hard to look at. The eyes played tricks.
Batch scooted along, wheezing and thinking of the silver bat wings. It was a real puzzle—he needed wings to get his wings, to flap down that horrid well and grab them! He should have ripped the pair off that old faerie chief and used those to fly down the well. Sure the codger didn’t need them anymore where he was going, but Batch did. A nasty gleam lit his eyes. There were plenty more wings like those in Dreamdark, sure.
“Eenie meenie minie ming,”Batch sang.“Catch a faerie by the wing...If she hollers, let her sing, the lovely song of a faerie scream!”
CHAPTER TEN
“How did you know where to find me?” Magpie asked Poppy, looking around. The thick foliage of the linden enclosed her completely, like a little room.
“I heard from some ivy,” Poppy answered, “and from a beech sapling just yonder.”
Magpie cocked her head and studied her. “For true?” she asked. Poppy nodded. “You can speak with plants and things? That’s sharp! What do they sound like? What do they say?”
“Oh, they’ve all kinds of voices, and they say all kinds of things. Herbs sort of sing, and flowers gossip like biddies.”
“And trees?” Magpie asked, laying her hand on the bark of the old linden.
“Ah, trees, well, you know trees are earth elementals,” Poppy said. “Some tell tales, but they tell far less than they know.”
“Sure they know a lot.”
