《Tales From Mirthland: The Lady of Rags》


 The Lady of Rags: Chapter 1

    For most, a knock on the door during the night is an unexpected thing. But expectations fluctuate when one is in the business of magic, and late calls are not unusual when one is the only person around equipped to do certain jobs.


    Being the lone Magician''s Guild representative for miles, Londra was not surprised to hear someone knocking on her office door long after most people had retired to bed. Cordon Heath was a small village; any magical matter would be brought to her before too long. She had been burning the midnight oil anyway, working through her predecessor''s leftover paperwork. Though in a town this small, things could usually wait until morning. The lateness of the call attested to its seriousness.


    Londra answered the door. "Yes? How can I help you?"


    Her caller turned out to be one of the local farmers. Benden, she believed his name was. A week''s growth of beard covered his chin; he clutched his hat in one hand and a lantern in the other. "Pardon me, Miss. Is Winnakin here?"


    "You mean my predecessor. He''s retired. I''m Londra Albot, the new Guildswoman."


    Her caller shook his head in embarrassment. "Oh, right. Keep forgetting. Apologies."


    "No need." In normal circumstances, she would have been more annoyed but the farmer clearly had other things on his mind. "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Benden?"


    "Huh? Oh, yes Miss Guildswoman. Uh, may I come in?"


    "Of course."


    On the windowsill nearby, Londra''s contracted Vesper, Konas, stirred from his nap. His huge gold cat eyes regarded their visitor as he entered the Guild Office and Londra made an offer of tea.


    "Thank you, Miss." He took the cup and sat down. "The hour is late for both of us, so I''ll not waste time. I¡¯m here about my daughter. She''s been acting... funny."


    Settling behind her desk, Londra asked, "Funny how?"


    "Just odd. She barely sleeps a wink but never seems tired, she''s been muttering strange things under her breath, and there are times I''ll look at her and she appears... off somehow. Like her features are too perfect. That feeling passes in a moment though."


    The Guildswoman considered his description. Nothing jumped out at her as being inherently magical about Benden''s daughter. But he was correct about it being odd.


    "Do you believe your daughter''s been cursed then?"


    "Frankly Miss, I''m not sure what to think. She hasn''t been the same since that illness swept through town."


    "The Saffron Fever. I remember."


    "We almost lost her to it," A passing worry crossed the farmer''s face before he continued. "This might just be me being overprotective. Winnakin used to come check things like this out for us..."


    Londra sighed at her predecessor''s name and tried to pass it off as a yawn. She didn''t blame Benden or the people of Cordon Heath for doing so, but she wished they would stop comparing her to Old Winnakin. That was the problem with Guild positions in small villages like this. The citizens got so accustomed to one person fixing their magical woes for years. Anyone new feels like a cheap replacement.


    Her visitor could tell he offended her. "Sorry Miss Londra. I''m bothering you for no reason. I''ll be on my way."


    He stood to briskly exit, but she stopped him.


    "No Mister Benden. If my predecessor would have taken care of this for you, then I shall as well. As your Magician''s Guild representative, it is my duty to set the minds of Cordon Heath''s citizens at ease when it comes to magic. Let me gather my tools."


    "Oh, thank you, Miss." He vigorously shook her hand in thanks.


    She faked a positive smile, but caught Konas giving her a stink eye. The Vesper knew his mistress was acting out of jealousy, not altruism. She couldn''t disagree.


    Leaving Benden to nurse his tea, Londra fetched her Guild accouterments. To protect against the night chill, she threw the standard blue cloak over her slight shoulders. It draped around her ankles. Some of the villagers thought their new Guildswoman appeared underfed, a notion her cylindrical uniform contributed to. But she was plenty well fed, just not as plump as these country folk got. Atop her swish of white hair, Londra placed the matching wide brimmed blue hat. Not pointed, as many people believed.


    From her desk, she retrieved her work talisman, a simple copper rod. This and a few other tools she put it into a doctor''s bag, and then whistled for her Vesper. He yawned and hopped off his perch. Benden eyed him cross the floor, aware that this white-furred creature was no mere animal. With his long, bushy tail, flat face, and high pointed ears, Konas was not quite a cat, not quite a rabbit, and not quite a fox. Contracted Vespers often took the form of such amalgam critters.


    Jumping up on Londra''s shoulder in a single bound, her contractor whispered, "Is this really worth investigating? The man himself said he might be imagining things."


    "Even if he is, investigating will make a strong impression. Winnakin served these people for decades, so they''re naturally somewhat skeptical of me. If I can show them I''m as capable and trustworthy as him, the transition will go easier."


    The Vesper''s tail swished from side to side. "Fine. But if you ended my nap for no reason, I won''t let you forget it."


    "Noted."


    Londra pocketed one last thing from her desk before leaving, a simple scrap of cloth with a special sigil stitched on it. Though not enchanted in any way, she''d had it since childhood and thought of it as a good luck charm. Having it with her gave the novice Guildswoman some extra confidence. She turned back to her visitor, finishing his tea. "Lead the way, Mr. Benden."


    The farmer nodded, re-lit his lantern, and they left the Guild station. He led Londra and her Vesper through the quiet, slumbering burg. A few low burning oil lamps and candles gave evidence of the Guildswoman''s fellow night owls. The trio did not travel far; Benden''s farm lay on the same outskirts of Cordon Heath as her office. A scarecrow stood sentinel in the field as starlight shined through the gaps of clouds. Such a night did not seem a setting for any kind of mystical mischief.


    Another man, a bit burlier than Benden, met them at the door.


    "Where''s Winnakin?" the man asked.


    "He retired, remember? This is Miss Londra, the new Guildswoman. Miss Londra, my husband Jolah."


    She pinched her cloak with her free hand and curtsied. "Evening sir."


    Jolah gave her a polite nod and pulled his partner aside. "Do you think she can handle this? Whatever it is? I would feel assured with Winnakin, but this new girl..."


    "I''m sure it will be fine, love. She''s from the Guild, same as him. Yes, she''s young and new in town, but if we give her a chance than maybe we can help Siffa."


    Londra coughed to grab their attention. "Pardon me, gentlemen. I''m sure your daughter''s condition has you worried but fear not. Situations like this are quite common in my profession. Let me get to work and this matter will be dealt with quick as lightning."


    "Of course. We''ll let you get to it," said Benden. Embarrassed, the two men shuffled out of the way.


    Entering the house, Londra sensed nothing unusual. Not on the surface at least.


    "Konas, sniff around. See if you can catch a whiff of curses or enchantments."


    "By your command." The Vesper hopped off her shoulder and traced a serpentine trail through the farmhouse, nose to the floorboards.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    In the meantime, Londra drew a pencil and notebook from her bag. "While my contractor searches, tell me more about your daughter. Your husband said something about the Saffron Fever."


    "Yes, Siffa came down with it the same time as everyone else," said Jolah, "We were so worried. She''s so young, and we thought we might lose her. The doctor did all he could, but she was bedridden for weeks."


    "Then suddenly, she got better," his husband added. "As though she were never sick at all. Almost like a miracle. I suppose we should have questioned it more, but we were just happy to have our daughter back. After that, she started acting odd."


    Londra bit the blunt end of her pencil. A recovery like that was definitely suspicious, but was it magical? More facts were needed.


    "Did the doctor come check her after the illness passed? Or since these strange behaviors began?"


    "Yes. He didn''t find anything unusual. Siffa seemed perfectly healthy."


    A meow from Konas interrupted the questioning. "The smell of enchantment is coming from this door. I wouldn''t mistake it for anything," said the Vesper.


    "Siffa''s room is behind that door," said Benden.


    Londra continued, "Have you noticed any other changes in your daughter? Even something small."


    The two farmers thought for a moment.


    "Wisp."


    "Yes, Siffa was always talking about her new friend Wisp. She said he always came and visited her, even when she was sick. We assumed he was imaginary, a childish fantasy."


    "Fantasy, yes. Imaginary, no." said Londra.


    From her bag, she pulled a lodestone on a string, tied it around her middle finger, and let it dangle from her hand.


    "Which way is North?"


    Jolah pointed to one side of the farmhouse. Facing that direction, the trained Guildswoman checked her instrument. For the most part it tended north, but almost imperceptibly, it wavered toward Siffa''s door on her left.


    "Thought so."


    Next, she replaced the lodestone with a thermometer. Neither farmer recognized the recent invention and looked at each other in confusion. Taking some readings around the room, Londra got the result she expected. Temperatures were cooler around Siffa''s room.


    Konas jumped back on her shoulder without disturbing her concentration.


    "Thoughts?" He asked her.


    "Without a doubt, something''s made itself at home here. Another Vesper most likely. My guess is this Wisp they told me about."


    "Then what''s our next move, Londra?"


    She retrieved her copper rod talisman from her bag and turned back to the two fathers. "May I see your daughter?"


    Benden knocked on their daughter''s door. "Siffa, honey? There''s a nice woman here to see you. She wants to ask you a few questions, okay?"


    "Will she be awake this late?"


    "She has been since the sickness."


    No answer came.


    The farmer shrugged and opened the door anyway.


    Cautious to what she might find, Londra crossed the threshold of the girl''s room first, raising her talisman a little to be safe. Konas leapt down to guard her front.


    On her knees before her bed, Siffa held court over a gathering of spiders, crickets, and other night insects. Her voice, no louder than a whisper, made their antenna twitch. But as Konas approached, the bugs scattered. The little girl turned to face her intruders.


    "Evening Miss," she said with a smile that almost seemed genuine.


    "Evening Siffa. My name is Londra. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"


    "Not at all. Please sit with me."


    Londra¡¯s contractor growled in the back in his throat, but she tapped him with her talisman.


    "It''s fine, Konas."


    The white Vesper eyed the girl, then his mistress. "Be careful," he told her. Londra nodded and sat across from Siffa on the floor. Her fathers peered in from the other room.


    "Your daddies are very worried about you Siffa."


    "Oh? Whatever for?"


    "They tell me you haven''t been the same since the fever left you. That you''ve been acting odd. Is this true?"


    The girl giggled behind her hands with more malice than mirth. "Silly daddies. I''m fine. Wisp and his friends saw to that. They''re such fine friends they are."


    That artificial smile tugged at her lips again and Londra gripped her copper rod a bit tighter.


    "I''m sure they are," the Guildswoman said, "Are Wisp and his friends here now?"


    "Oh no. They had to go home. The Lady of Rags only lets them visit every now and again. They won''t be back for some time. Maybe until I''m as old as you!"


    "Hmmm. Is that so?"


    Siffa nodded, her expression stiff as a statue. With her answer, Londra formed an idea of what she was dealing with. All the evidence; the wavering lodestone, the change in temperature, Siffa''s odd behavior, pointed toward a single conclusion. One more test would confirm it.


    "I think you''re right Siffa. Your daddies are being silly. Could you do one more thing for me before I leave though?"


    "Of course Londra. What is it?"


    The Guildswoman couldn''t decide if this intruder was arrogant or just dumb. From her bag, she withdrew the last test. "Hold this horseshoe please."


    At that moment, the girls'' porcelain fa?ade cracked.


    "I... I would rather not. That thing is probably dirty and I don''t want to get sick again. Right, daddies?"


    Their daughter''s impostor got no help from the farmers.


    "Go on," said Londra, "Touch this simple bit of iron and I''ll go. I insist."


    The girl that wasn''t Siffa backed away in fright. Her eyes darted in separate directions, looking for any escape route. Londra wouldn''t give it the chance.


    "By the power of this iron, I bind you to that spot. Magen Braugh!"


    Light shot from the end of her rod, transforming into glimmering shackles. They wrapped around the false Siffa, chaining her to the bed''s footboard.


    "Now reveal your true form!"


    The Guildswoman pressed the horseshoe into the girl''s forehead, drawing forth steam and screams.


    "Ah! Ah! Stop!" Not Siffa cried.


    Seams appeared across her body and stitches unraveled. The appearance of the farmers'' daughter fluttered away in scraps of cloth, leaving only tatters behind. A streak of movement rushed toward the window.


    "Konas don''t let it escape!"


    Londra''s Vesper pounced, teeth bared, on to the impostor. He caught it in his jaws as its fingertips grazed the windowsill and pinned it to the floor. His mistress approached, talisman raised.


    "I knew it," she said, "A changeling."


    "A what?" asked Benden.


    "A changeling," Londra explained, "A Fairy Vesper left in your daughter''s place. Iron hurts them, so the horseshoe undid its disguise."


    Teeth clenched around its throat, Konas held down a dirty, saucer-eyed gremlin. A sparse loincloth and ragged foot wraps are all that hid its modesty. The common kobold struggled against his captor¡¯s grip.


    "Release Me!" it demanded.


    "Not likely," Londra said leveling her talisman at the changeling''s forehead. "Now tell me what you''ve done with the true Siffa."


    "And suffer my mistress'' wrath? I would rather have my feet turned backwards and my eyes become butterflies."


    Konas bit down harder, silencing their captive for the moment. Londra realized she would need a persuasive technique. Holding up her rod, she cast another spell.


    "Sons and daughters of the Burning Fields, lend me a flame that fuses metal. Magen Braugh."


    From her talisman''s tip came a torch of blue fire, blazing at a steady intensity. She pushed it toward the impostor''s cheek, a needle about to pierce cloth. His pupils danced wildly across his unblinking eyes as it inched closer.


    "Now then, tell me Vesper," she said, "Which you would prefer? To be bottled or banished? Or perhaps I''ll simply pull out your spirit and sell your body to the local apothecary. Root Vespers like you make for such potent potions."


    "All right! All right!" it pleaded, "I''ll speak the truth, plain and fair, just spare me miss. Shape-changer I may be, but burns like your torch''ll give me remain in all forms."


    Londra nodded to her white-furred contractor, who released their suspect, and blew out her mystic fire. The changeling attempted to rise, but Konas held him down with one paw.


    "We didn''t say you could get up. Now talk," he said.


    "Where is Siffa?"


    "My mistress took the lass," said the impostor, "The Lady of Rags left me behind to fool her fathers. She''ll be spiriting her off to Fairyhome as we speak."


    "Oh goodness, not out daughter!"


    "Why?" Londra asked. "Why take the girl?"


    Konas pressed down harder.


    "Ah! She asked my Lady to take her. I don''t know the why or wherefore."


    Asked to go with them? Now that was unusual. From her time with the Magician''s Guild, Londra knew that the Lord and Lady Vespers of Fairyhome often kidnapped children and unwary mortals. But going with one willingly was almost unheard-of. Something more than a simple changeling replacement was going on here.


    "Where is the gate to Fairyhome?"


    "Neigh, even upon pain of bottling, I cannot reveal that. The last I''ll say is that if you wish the girl back, you''d best move quick. My Lady may dawdle, but by the time the sun rises the doors will close, and she''ll be as good as gone."


    Sunrise? That didn''t give Londra much time to rescue Siffa.


    "I''ve spoken all I know, I have. Will you free me now?"


    "Let him go Konas. He''s of no more use to us."


    The white Vesper lifted his paw, but hissed at their informant one last time before returning to his mistress'' side. The changeling shifted into something like a mouse and scurried away through the floorboards.


    "Well, your intuition paid off," said Konas, resuming his perch on Londra''s shoulder. "What''s our next move?"


    "Miss Londra?" Benden and Jolah entered the room for the first time. The burlier farmer hung back while his husband grabbed the Guildswoman''s hands.


    "You are going to bring our daughter back, right? We''ve heard stories about what happens to people who go to Fairyhome. We''re old as is, we can''t imagine not seeing Siffa again for twenty years or longer. Her unchanged and us aged as trees."


    "I can''t believe what that... that thing said. Why would Siffa ask to leave? Why would she trust these fairies over us?" asked Jolah.


    Londra took a deep breath. This was the most important part of her job as a Guilds Representative. When ordinary people like these farmers were confronted with arcane strangeness, she needed to be the steady rock assuring them that things still made sense. That things would still be okay.


    She put a hand on Benden''s shoulder.


    "Benden. Jolah. I will do all I can to bring Siffa back to you. Fairy Vespers like this Lady of Rags often trick and beguile people. I''m sure your daughter was manipulated into leaving. Everything will be cleared up when she comes home."


    Konas gave her an approving nod.


    "For the moment, stay here. She may return on her own. If not, I''ll be waiting at the gate to Fairyhome."


    "But that sprite said you only have until sunrise and that''s-"


    "My concern, not yours. Don''t worry. The Guild trained me for this."


    With Siffa''s fathers calmed enough, Londra took her leave to pursue the investigation. In her pocket, her hand wrapped around that childhood sigil, looking for some of that same reassurance. She checked her watch. Ten minutes past midnight. Six hours left until dawn.


    "Again, what''s our next move?" Konas asked.


    "An aristocrat from Fairyhome is still an aristocrat. Aristocrats have servants. Let''s chat with the working class."

 The Lady of Rags: Chapter 2

    Fairy Vespers, those eccentric incomprehensible spirits, work off a logic all their own. Despite spending lifetimes trying to understand it, the human race has come nowhere close to finding any kind of internal consistency to their reasoning. Why these sprites and spriggans did what they did was often a complete mystery. But Londra thought the local Fairykind''s refusal to cooperate had a more mundane explanation.


    She and Konas pounded the dirt roads and cobblestone streets of Cordon Heath, seeking any hint of Siffa and the Lady of Rags. But no matter where they went, every Vesper they spoke with gave up nothing. Not the pale moonchildren dabbing the grass with fresh dewdrops. Not the domovoi cleaning the taverns after last call. Not the gargoyles out catching their dinner. None of them would give her any answers.


    Thus stonewalled, Londra would flash her Magician''s Guild badge, insisting upon her own authority, but the magical denizens of the night paid her position no mind.


    "Are you aware what this stands for?" she would say.


    "Aye miss, I do. But what''s it got to do with you?" The Vespers would say back.


    "I am a representative of the Guild!"


    "And what''s this Guild got to do with me?"


    The interrogation would go like that until Londra''s frustration got the better of her. Nearly two hours had passed since she left the farmhouse, with Siffa no closer to coming home. And Londra no closer to finding this Lady of Rags.


    With time growing short, she decided to go over the Vespers'' heads. Konas in tow, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet so far, she marched up the winding stairs through the cedar forest to Cordon Heath''s central temple. A squat and simple building, the local god who resided there essentially served as mayor of the village''s Vesper community. Perhaps they would be able to open some doors, or loosen some lips, for her.


    Outside the shrine, Londra dropped two coins into the donation box. A little good will wouldn''t hurt her chances. She removed her shoes at the entrance and ritually washed her hands. Formalities complete, she entered the sparse temple and knelt before the huge tree at its back.


    Softly, she intoned, "Great Spirit of the Cedars, please speak with me. You would honor me and my Patron by doing so."


    Konas departed his perch and bowed his head as well.


    A moment passed, filled only with cricket song. Then the thick, ancient tree''s bark split and cracked apart, forming into a furrowed brow and frowning face. In a voice with the timbre of falling lumber, the god of the cedar forest spoke to Londra.


    "I accept your request Guildswoman. Why have you summoned me?"


    "Great Spirit, a girl has been absconded with this night. The Lady of Rags plots to whisk her away to Fairyhome by sunrise. I must find her or the gate before then, but none of this village''s Vespers will talk to me."


    "Because they do not know you."


    Londra lifted her head. "I''m sorry?"


    "To the Vespers and Fairykind of Cordon Heath you are a stranger, Guildswoman. Because you are unknown to them, they do not trust you."


    "But I am the representative of the Magician''s Guild."


    "That carries less weight with them than it does with humankind," said the old god. "To mortals, you are a master of the arcane and unknown. To my fellows, you are a child demanding to be taken seriously."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Inwardly, Londra rankled. She squeezed her pocketed charm.


    "Did they not respect my predecessor?"


    "Winnakin earned their respect, over time. You are new here and must do the same Guildswoman."


    How am I supposed to do that in four hours? She mentally screamed.


    "I am sorry I can do no more for you," said the revered deity, "To reveal the gate to Fairyhome means that gate being barred to you. For that reason, more than any other, do the Vespers'' lips remain silent. Give the child''s parents my regret. I wish you well, Guildswoman."


    "Great Spirit, wait!"


    Her words were of no use. The god of the trees receded into the huge cedar trunk, its bark rearranging into shape. She pouted at his departure.


    Fat lot of help he was.


    With a swish of her blue cloak, Londra donned her shoes and left the shrine. Her white-furred Vesper scrambled to follow on his tiny legs.


    "Back at square one Konas, with two hours wasted. And with who knows what done to Siffa by the Lady of Rags in the mean time. This is so frustrating!"


    She huffed and kicked a rock into the woods.


    "Take a breath Londra. We''re not defeated yet," her contractor said.


    The Guildswoman decided to take his advice and parked herself on the temple steps. From her pocket, she took out that cherished bit of childhood cloth, her good luck charm. She unrolled the fabric square and ran her fingers across the stitching of the sigil. It comforted and mocked her in turn.


    Konas'' bushy tail brushed against her hands. He looked up at her, sympathy clear in his eyes. His mistress gave a sad smile and rewarded him with a scratch behind his ears.


    "The Great Spirit has a point, Londra. Waving your badge around may work with mortals, but Vespers need more persuasion."


    "Then what do you suggest, Konas?"


    "Think back to when we made our contract. How did you attract me to your window?"


    "I left out an offering and waited to see what came biting. But that was different, more formal."


    "The principle remains the same. We''ve tried the stick, now let''s give the carrot a shake."


    Londra rolled the suggestion around in her head. It couldn''t hurt. They certainly weren''t making any headway acting as they were.


    "Let me show you," said her Vesper "Is there anything in your bag that might make a good fairy bribe?"


    "Maybe."


    "Excellent. Follow me."


    Uncertain of his strategy, she did so.


    Leaving the shrine behind, the pair headed to Cordon Heath''s village green. There, manicured perennials slept in their garden boxes. Konas knew they could find some Vespers they had yet to speak with in that greenery. In his words, "Shake up any bed of flowers and some ought to come loose."


    The Guildswoman and her contractor approached with care.


    "Okay, now be ready Londra."


    The white-furred Vesper hopped up into the blossoms and slithered his way through their stems, tail raised like a flag. His movement shook up clouds of dust and pollen, and a few of the people they were looking for. Tiny pixies, no bigger than butterflies, fluttered above the petals trying to regain their senses. Londra pinched one between her fingers.


    "Gotcha!" she exclaimed.


    "Let me go, you big bullhead!" demanded the pixie, "Peri Pinkle will not be handled this way!"


    The small pink and blue sprite struggled in Londra''s light grasp, her ladybug wings beating furiously. The Guildswoman glanced at her contractor, who motioned for her to go on with his paw. She rolled her eyes, but followed his suggestion.


    "Very well, I will release you," she said letting the Vesper go, "I merely wanted your attention, noble pixie."


    Peri Pinkle pouted, turning her back on them.


    "I''ve heard what you want, Guildswoman. We Vespers talk to each other you know."


    "I''m aware, but I thought I might try changing your mind."


    "No doing! I would rather be bottled than reveal where Fairyhome''s gate is! And nothing will sway Peri Pinkle''s opinion."


    "Not even a sweet?"


    The mention of sugar caught the pixie''s attention. She turned, skeptical but intrigued, and hovered closer. From her bag, Londra pulled a tin of cream candies and snapped it open. The sight made Peri Pinkle''s eyes literally light up.


    "You''re correct, I do want to find the gate to Fairyhome. But I''m also Cordon Heath''s new Guildswoman. I''ll be here for a while yet, so I should forge good relations with the local Vespers. Take a candy Peri Pinkle, whether you want to help me or not." All Konas'' words, but they were working so far.


    The pixie zipped toward the tin with obvious hunger, but stopped short. Her glance shot from the candies, to Londra, and back again.


    "No trick?" she said with clear skepticism.


    "No trick."


    "And I don''t have to answer any questions?"


    "Nope."


    Mollified, Peri Pinkle dove in. Picking up a round white chocolate treat bigger than her head, the sprite rubbed her cheek against it like a long-lost lover. She zoomed out of the candy tin on her insect wings hugging her prize, but didn''t return to her flowerbed. Instead, she turned back to the Guildswoman.


    "I can''t tell you where to find the gate. But I can tell you where to find someone who might," she said.


    Londra smiled and looked at Konas. He smiled back, a look that said, "Told you it would work."

 The Lady of Rags: Chapter 3

    Londra''s childhood occupied her mind as she and Konas made their way to the mysterious character Peri Pinkle told them of. With Siffa''s youth about to be cut short by her abduction to Fairyhome, she couldn''t help but ponder it. The promises of those carefree days led to her current occupation.


    She remembered them fondly. Londra had grown up far from Cordon Heath, in the hilly river lands to the southeast. Her circle of friends was small but thick as thieves. Games of make-believe sprawled out over the town and into the hills beyond. Though they were the daughters of farmers, merchants, and artisans, they dreamed of much more.


    Fishing that cherished scrap of cloth out of her pocket, Londra admired the design as she walked.


    On her shoulder, Konas noted, "That means a lot to you, doesn''t it?"


    "Hmm? Oh, yes. My friends and I each made one back when we were girls."


    "What does the sigil mean?"


    "Nothing. None of us were spellcasters, though we all wanted to be. We made these for pretend, and held onto them as reminders of that dream."


    "Did you all become spellcasters?"


    "Couldn''t say. Childhood friends are like that sometimes. You drift apart as you grow older. I don''t even know if they kept their sigils. I saved mine because it reminds me of where I started, and why I chose this vocation."


    Her Vesper swished his tail. "Then there might be some magic in that sigil after all. Remember, symbols are important. The more belief you put in them, the more power they possess."


    I hadn''t really considered that.


    "Maybe Konas. Maybe."


    The path beneath Londra''s feet soon crunched with dead leaves, out of season in late spring. A sign they were nearing their destination. Two hours remained until Siffa would be spirited off to Fairyhome.


    The avenue of skeletal trees they trod opened up unto a huge crack in the ground. An earthquake had split the landscape open some years past and the cottage that stood in this spot had crumbled into the earth''s maw. All that remained was the house''s well, jutting spire-like up from the miniature canyon, a small island of grass and dirt ringing it. A rickety bridge of wooden planks connected it to the regular road. Taking a deep breath, Londra stepped out on the boards. They groaned under her weight.


    Mindful of her balance, she crossed the precarious catwalk to the well. Konas followed behind, almost weightless on the aged lumber. He hopped up on the well''s lip and they both peered into its shadowed depths. Faint echoes rolled up out of it.


    "Well, go on. Do as Peri Pinkle told us," he said.


    Londra nodded. From her bag, she withdrew a pouch of fine tobacco. Not a smoker herself, the narcotic made another decent fairy bribe. Or so she hoped. She dropped it into the darkness of the well and waited. No splash came.


    Konas poked his nose in. "Maybe she''s not home?"


    As if in answer, a massive colony of bats burst out of the well. Londra jumped back, nearly falling into the shallow ravine below them. Her contractor yipped and hid himself under his tail in fright. As the leatherwings dispersed, a larger form shot up after them. It rolled in the air and sank back down again, coming to rest with a flourish.


    "You know," said the figure, "I don''t normally come out for just anybody. But for such fine smokables as these, well, how could I resist?"


    Londra regained her balance and Konas peeked his head out to regard their guest. An imp, no larger than a child, stood on the well''s edge. Her skin was pale as paper, her bobbed hair black as ink, and two small devil horns poked up from forehead. Decorative bat wings jutted from her back. She dressed like a combination of tramp and exotic dancer, bent top hat on her head and dirty overcoat over a dark corset and fishnet stockings. The only clean things about her were the white gloves on her hands. With her caricatured proportions and button-like pie-eyes, the imp resembled a cartoonist''s fevered fetish drawing. She clenched an already lit cigarillo in her shark-teeth smile.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Now, now, now. Who''s come to visit little ol'' me at my well?"


    Mistress and contractor shared a glance. "Are you the one known as Pusher Hildy?" inquired Londra.


    The imp doffed her hat and bowed. "At your service, my fine Guildlady."


    Pusher Hildy blew her a kiss and winked. The Guildswoman grimaced but soldiered on.


    "Pusher Hildy, you can guess I''m here on official business. A Fairy Vesper aristocrat called The Lady of Rags has abducted a girl and I have until sunrise to bring her home. I was told you might be able to reveal the location of the gate to Fairyhome. Can you?"


    The imp reclined on nothing, floating in the air, and took a long drag on her smoke. Her exhalation twisted into gothic shapes.


    "You must be real desperate to come to me. Ol'' Winnakin never would have done that. Heck, he did his best to keep me down in that well. But you ain''t like him, are ya?"


    "So people keep telling me. Can you tell me where the gate is or not?"


    "Oh, I can. But not for free."


    "I already gave you that tobacco."


    "That was just an audience fee, to get me out here. You want more, you got to pay more."


    The imp''s grin turned sour as she rubbed her thumb, index, and middle finger together. It didn''t take a Guild officer to tell her intent was sinister. Londra responded by shoving her talisman in her face.


    "And what''s to stop me from binding you to this well forever? Or bottling you and keeping you in my desk, you foul little spriggan?"


    Said spriggan shrugged at the threats.


    "Nothing. But then I don''t tell you squat and that poor little sweetheart gets whisked off to Fairyhome. You know I''ve met the Lady of Rags before. Nice gal. She''ll take reeeeaaalllgood care of the brat."


    The imp blew smoke in Londra''s face.


    She hated to admit, but Pusher Hildy had a point. Time was a factor, and this was their best and only lead. Whatever the cost, she could worry about it once Siffa was back with her fathers. Winnakin would have understood.


    "Fine. Name your price."


    "Mistress, no!" said Konas.


    "Konas, trust me."


    Sitting cross-legged, long black toenails poking out of her fishnets, the pusher smelled the air. "What''s your name, Guildlady?"


    "Don''t tell her!"


    "Konas, please. I am called Londra Albot. So what will it be? More tobacco? One of my teeth? My soul?"


    "No. Nothing like that, Londra Albot." Hildy sniffed again, catching a scent she liked. "But your payment does *sniff* need to be *sniff* something personal."


    She pointed to Londra''s pocket, where she had stuffed her childhood sigil, her good luck charm.


    "That''ll do."


    Londra pulled out the rolled up sigil, ran her thumb across it. After all these years, the threads were fraying bare.


    "Done," she said.


    "Londra!"


    Konas jumped on her shoulder, shooting Pusher Hildy a dirty look, and nudged his mistress to turn.


    He whispered, "Londra, what are you doing? I told you that scrap of cloth has power. All the more because it''s personal to you. You can''t simply give it away. Not to someone," He sneered at the imp, who winked and flashed him some leg, "like her."


    "Personal or not, Konas, we don''t have time to negotiate. This is her price. And an old bit of fabric is a small price to pay to bring Siffa home."


    The white-furred Vesper caught his mistress'' conscience in her gaze and demurred.


    "If you don''t mind paying it, then I shan''t argue with you."


    Londra smiled and pet her contractor behind his huge ears.


    "They said I would have to make sacrifices for this job," she said tossing the sigil to Pusher Hildy.


    The spriggan caught her prize and inhaled its aroma with all the grace and dignity of a back-alley pervert. Her pie-eyes rolled up in ecstasy.


    "There, I paid your price. Now tell me where the gate is."


    "Of course. Just let me squirrel this away for later." Pusher Hildy stored Londra''s sigil in the innards of her filthy coat. "On the edge of the Cedar Spirit''s forest you''ll find a circle of standing stones. When the stars are right, one can pass straight through to Fairyhome by stepping into it. That''s your gate."


    "How can we trust you''re telling us the truth?" asked Konas "By revealing the location to us, they''ll bar the gate to you. You won''t be able to return to your home realm."


    "Oh, I have other ways in." The imp checked her nails and took another deep drag on her cigarillo. "Now I would hurry if I were you. Those megaliths are on the other side of town and sunrise is on its way."


    Fishing out her watch, the Guildswoman confirmed she had spoke honestly. Little over ninety minutes left before their deadline. She and Konas needed to make haste, but she wouldn''t let Pusher Hildy off so easy.


    Jabbing her talisman in the pusher''s face, drawing a genuinely surprised expression, Londra told her, "Stay in this well. If I learn you''ve gotten up to any mischief, you''ll find I''m more like Winnakin than you thought."


    The imp''s grin returned. "I look forward to it, Guildlady."


    Throwing her arms out spread-eagle, she fell backwards into her well, leaving only the stench of vice and smoke behind. As they departed, Londra thought she heard giggles echoing up the stone shaft.

 The Lady of Rags: Chapter 4

    The old circle of standing stones had sat at the cedar forest''s edge for longer than Siffa had been alive. Probably for longer than her fathers had been alive. A sacred place it was, but dangerous as well. Parents warned their children to avoid the megaliths, and the villagers of Cordon Heath only visited there to perform rituals that couldn''t be done at the Great Spirit''s shrine.


    Now, in the dim twilight of dawn, Siffa stood on its threshold.


    Blue energy hummed and emanated off the stones, bubbles of sparkling light pulsing off them. The young girl couldn''t help but feel anxious about entering into the circle. A massive hand, soft and warm as a blanket, rested on her shoulders.


    "Don''t be afraid my pet," said the Lady of Rags, "We''ll be home soon, and then you''ll know nothing but joy and love for the rest of your days."


    "Really?"


    "Yes, darling. The same as I''ve provided for many other sad children like yourself over the years."


    Was Siffa a sad child though? That might have been the case a short while ago, back when she was lying in bed burning with fever. Pain and sickness seemed to swallow her up whole being. Even her fathers'' love felt muted. The doctors came and gave her their medicines, but they only made her hurt more. Siffa thought she would never be well again.


    Then Wisp appeared. The Fairy Vesper amused her during her ailment. He told her jokes and stories, brought some life back to her. When she asked him to make her better, her new friend said he couldn''t. But his mistress could. He introduced her to the Lady of Rags, and she made Siffa healthy again. So when the generous aristocrat offered to take her back to Fairyhome, to a place where she would never get sick or grow up, what child wouldn''t say yes?


    What sights the Lady had shown her too. She had seen the fairies at ballet, taken in the salamander races, and dined on fruits sweeter than the finest candies. And yet, standing at the circle now, Siffa still felt apprehensive.


    She gazed up at her escort. If the Lady of Rags had legs to stand on, she would have stood eight and half feet tall. As it was, a long beaded skirt hid her lower form, and she floated over the ground. From her torso up to her head, her chaperone appeared human, though the only bits of skin she displayed were her chin and startling red lips. Long rolls of rich silk, linen, and cotton draped the rest of her body. A turban-like headscarf wrapped around the Lady''s head and eyes. From her shoulders came not mortal arms, but four enormous mitten-like ragdoll appendages. Plush as pillows, they weighed nothing on Siffa.


    Those huge hands gave the girl a gentle nudge forward.


    "Come on now, dear. We mustn''t dally."


    "If you say so, my lady."


    Siffa spared a glance back at Cordon Heath. Dull hurt knotted in her chest and melancholy overcame her. Homesickness, she supposed, despite not leaving yet. The sensation was quite new for a girl of only nine years old. She turned back to the stone circle.


    "Wait!" cried a voice in the distance.


    The sudden sound caught Siffa''s attention but the Lady''s hands kept her from finding its source.


    "Never mind that, my love," she said. "Go on. Step forward now."


    "No. I... I don''t think-"


    "What''s there to think about? You asked me to take you, so I''m taking you. Now pass through the circle."


    "Wait right there!" the voice shouted.


    This time the Lady could not stop Siffa. Both she and the giant Fairy Vesper turned. Standing before them, out of breath with her talisman drawn, was a woman with a wave of white hair cascading down her head clutching a doctor''s bag. Her blue hat and cloak meant that she could be none other than a Guild representative. An indeterminate white-furred creature rode on her shoulders.


    Londra had arrived, with twenty minutes to spare.


    "Lady of Rags, I am called Londra Albot. In the name of the Magician''s Guild of the mortal plane, I order you to relinquish Siffa this moment."


    The Lady scowled. "You dare to order me, Guild slime?"


    "I recognize you are a member of the Fairy nobility, but you hold no authority here. As was decided-"


    The massive aristocrat roared at the Guildswoman, her jaw unhinging slightly and revealing a mouth full of arachnid mandibles behind her scarlet lips. Undaunted, Londra continued on.


    "As was decided in the human-fairy treaty of 892. I will not allow you to take that child to Fairyhome."


    The Lady snarled in her throat and brought Siffa closer to her, smothering the girl against her with her four huge hands.


    "I am aware of your treaties. The child asked me to take her. If asked, I am within my right to take her with me. You cannot stop me."


    Tricky bitch, she was correct. If someone asks to go with a Fairy Vesper, the Guild could do nothing to stop them from going. But that rule was never intended for someone as young as Siffa. The girl couldn''t have fully grasped what she was agreeing to. Leave it to an aristocrat to twist the law to do horrible things.


    Londra didn''t need to stop the Lady of Rags from leaving though. She only needed to make sure Siffa didn''t go with her.


    The Guildswoman lowered her talisman a bit and turned her attention to the kidnapped girl, nearly buried in the many folds of the Lady''s fabrics.


    "Siffa, did you ask to go with her?"


    She didn''t answer. Her eyes took on the pained look every child gets when stuck between two grown-ups angry at one another. Certain that it was her fault and afraid anything she might say will only make things worse.


    "I won''t be mad at you if you did. I just need to know. My name is Londra and I''m friends with your daddies. You can trust me."


    Siffa''s anxiety lessened.


    "Did you ask to go with the Lady?"Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The girl peered up at her chaperone and nodded, "Uh-huh."


    The Lady smiled, arrogant in assumed vindication.


    "Why did you ask to go with her?"


    "I didn''t want to be sick anymore. It hurt so much. I couldn''t breathe, or play, or do anything. None of the medicine made me better, but then the Lady helped me. She said she would take me to a place where I would never get sick again."


    "And what about your daddies?" asked Londra, "Didn''t you think they would miss you?"


    "The Lady said I could come visit them. That they wouldn''t even notice I was gone."


    "Or did you eradicate my changeling, mortal scum?" the aristocrat barked.


    Londra ignored her.


    "They did notice Siffa. Your daddies are worried about you. They want you to come home."


    "But she said I could visit!" The girl was on the verge of tears.


    "Yes. Years and years from now, when your daddies have grown old and gray. The Lady didn''t tell you that part. Time passes differently in Fairyhome. By the time you come back, The Veiled Lady may have come to collect their souls"


    "No!" Siffa tried running away, but the Lady held her back. She leaned down her massive form to whisper into the girl''s ear.


    "Don''t listen to her Siffa. She''s a liar. I bet she''s never even met your daddies. Trust me, my love. I made you better, didn''t I?"


    Londra stepped closer, stowing her talisman. Konas leapt from her shoulders as she knelt on the grass, offering Siffa her hand.


    "It will be okay, Siffa. The Lady told you to ask to come with her, didn''t she? If that''s what happened, just tell her no and come to me. I''ll take you home."


    Tears rolled down Siffa''s cheeks as she looked from Londra to her chaperone and back again. The decision was almost more than the girl could bear. But then she burst out of the Lady''s grasp toward the Guildsman.


    "I want to go home! I don''t want to go with you anymore!"


    She ran right into Londra''s arms, who caught her in a hug.


    "I''m sorry, Miss Guild Lady. I''m sorry."


    "Shh. Shh. It''s alright Siffa. You don''t have anything to apologize for."


    As the girl let go, wiping her nose on her sleeve, a roll of red silk lashed out and snatched her back.


    "You ungrateful child," hissed the Lady of Rags, "Do you want me to make you sick again? I''ll inflict an illness on you ten times worse than Saffron Fever!"


    "Spirits of fire burn away these binds! Magen Braugh!"


    Londra thrust her copper rod forward, shooting balls of flame. They hit the silk, charring it to ash in seconds, and freed Siffa. The girl ran behind her.


    The Guildswoman declared, "Your agreement is void, dear lady. Leave peacefully and we''ll have no quarrel."


    "Unlikely, Guild slime. That girl belongs to me. Ragmen!"


    From the shadows came the sound of slithering through the tall grass. The Lady''s minions burst up from around the stone circle. Like their mistress'' arms, their bodies resembled stuffed canvas dolls, the stitching clear on their limbs. On their heads they wore red hooded shawls, angry yellow eyes glowing out from within. All five brandished shears or huge needles.


    Their mistress pointed at Londra and Siffa. "Seize the girl. Sew the other one''s mouth shut. Let her choke on her own tongue."


    The Ragmen surged forward.


    Siffa clutched Londra''s cloak tight, but the Guildswoman betrayed no fear. She called out, "Konas!"


    Her contractor erupted up in front of her, no longer the size of a house pet but an enormous dire wolf, as long as his mistress was tall. He pounced on the closest Ragman, forcing it to the ground, and ripped the fairy servant apart with his teeth.


    The other four still advanced on Londra. One jumped at her left. Pushing Siffa back, she wheeled her talisman around and cast a new spell.


    "Thunder! Magen Braugh!


    A bolt of purple lightning exploded from her rod''s tip, hitting the Ragman dead center. It floundered and hit the dirt, but recovered quick, slinking back off into the grass. His fellows closed in, slashing at Londra with their shears and jabbing her with their needles.


    The Guildswoman suffered their cuts as she gripped her copper rod with both hands. Throwing her forearms up, she created a magic shield, a purple diamond of energy around her and Siffa that tossed the Ragmen back. Shaking away their surprise, the Lady''s minions hacked at the barrier with no result.


    Konas blindsided another one, but the others brought their weapons down on him. Two needles pierced his side and he yelped.


    At his cry, Londra pushed her shield forward, knocking the aristocrat''s servants away again and bringing her Vesper under its protection. She knelt to check his injury, maintaining the spell.


    "Konas, are you hurt badly?"


    Her contractor got his feet, uneasily but steady.


    "Nothing I can''t sleep off," he said. "But those are Fairy weapons. I''m worried more about the lingering magic than the wounds."


    "I''ll slip you some healing potion when we get back to the office."


    Outside their barrier, the Ragmen regrouped. Their mistress watched on behind them, annoyed at how long they were taking. Her minions kept their distance from the Guildswoman but didn''t back down, waiting patient as vultures, twisting their enormous sewing tools in intimidation. Londra, still clutching her talisman with forearms raised and Siffa hugging her waist, surveyed the scene and tried formulating some kind of plan. Her gaze turned toward the horizon.


    "Konas, I''ve got an idea. I''ll need to drop the shield though. Can you keep them from pouncing on us for a few seconds."


    "I should be able to. What are you thinking?"


    She whispered her plan into his ear.


    "Yeah, I think ought to work," he said.


    "Excellent. On three. 1... 2... 3!"


    Dropping her forearms, Londra''s diamond shield vanished. The Ragmen leapt on them. But as their feet left the ground, Konas barked so loudly that a sonic shockwave broke their jump in mid-air. In the half-second they hung in the air, Londra held her rod aloft


    "Siffa, close your eyes. Bright Flash! Magen Braugh!"


    A ball of pure light popped from her rod''s tip and exploded in a blinding wave. The flash illuminated everything; the stone circle, the empty field, even the forest behind them, in white eclipsing brightness. The blast threw their attackers away, ripping open their seams and leaving them sprawled in tatters and pieces across the field.


    As she blinked back from blindness, Londra stood statue still. For a moment, she didn''t think she could move. Then sudden exhaustion overcame her, and she slumped to her knees. Her copper talisman tumbled from her grip.


    Siffa caught her. "Miss Guild Lady!"


    Konas slunk in to help hold his mistress up.


    She coughed and said, "I''m fine, you two. Making a flash that big just took a lot out of me."


    "Fools! Did you think you could kill my Ragmen that easily?" The Lady of Rags screamed at them.


    With a wave of one of her huge hands, the shredded scraps of her minions sprang to life. They slithered through the grass, inching along like worms, until they gathered into clumps. Their stitches re-sewed themselves and their ragdoll forms came back together. As their resuscitation finished, their ghost light eyes narrowed at Londra, Konas, and Siffa.


    "Every time you rip them apart, I shall simply repair them. Do you really think you can keep this up forever?"


    "No," the Guildswoman answered, "But I don''t need to. Look there."


    She tilted her head in the direction of the horizon. The first rays of the sun poked their way up, the twilight growing brighter with every moment.


    "Sunrise is coming. You may be able to cross the boundaries between here and Fairyhome as you please, but Siffa can''t. She needs to go through that gate, and it will close any minute now. So killing your Ragmen doesn''t matter, I only have to fight them off until morning."


    The Lady of Rags clenched her teeth, hints of her mandibles behind her grimace.


    "You''re as annoying as that old man Winnakin," she snarled.


    Londra couldn''t help but smirk with satisfaction at that.


    "Fine. Keep the child. You''ve won for now, Guild slime. But be wary. Your recompense will come soon enough."


    With a sniff of the air, the corners of the Lady''s mouth turned up in petty reassurance.


    "Though not from me it appears."


    The aristocrat gestured to her Ragmen, and they retreated backward into the stone circle, glaring at the Guildswoman all the while. Once she and her entourage passed into the shimmering blue energy field, their silk and canvas forms unraveled, returning to mere lifeless fabric. A small breeze caught the rags, and they twirled away, spiraling eel-like into the distance. The Fairies were gone.


    Leaning on Konas, Londra stood.


    "Let''s get you home Siffa."


    "What did the Lady mean, Londra? About getting your recompense? What is recompense?"


    "It means payback. Don''t worry about that though. It has nothing to do with you."


    The girl nodded, still concerned but mollified for now. Behind them, Londra thought she heard faint giggling and felt cigarillo smoke blow into her ear. She glanced over her shoulder, but found nothing there. Konas caught her gaze. He heard it too.


    It didn''t matter. Siffa was safe, that was the important thing. Anything else, Londra would deal with as it came to her. The trio limped their way back to town as she regained her strength.

 The Lady of Rags: Chapter 5

    Benden and Jolah were overjoyed to have their daughter brought back home safe. The farmers couldn''t contain their hugs as Siffa ran into their farmhouse at daybreak. She apologized profusely for leaving, but her fathers forgave her in an instant, simply glad she returned. The whole family broke down in tears.


    Londra and Konas, once more the size of a house pet, hung back and beheld the joyful reunion. It had been a hard night''s work for the two of them, but results like this were their reward. They couldn''t have asked for a better case to introduce themselves to Cordon Heath''s community, both magical and mundane.


    "Miss Londra, we can''t thank you enough for bringing our daughter back," said Jolah.


    She held up her hand. "No thanks necessary. Things like this are my duty as your Guild representative. I''m just glad I could bring her home."


    "And we''re glad to know Winnakin''s old office is in safe hands. We''ll tell everyone in town about what you''ve done for us."


    Londra lowered her head to hide her smile and her Vesper purred in her ear. It appeared they had finally stepped out of her predecessor''s shadow.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "I appreciate that," she said. "Well, if you''ll excuse me, there are other things I need to attend to."


    Saying one last goodbye to Siffa, the Guildswoman retired to her office.


    "What other work is there for us to do?" Konas asked.


    "Getting some well-deserved rest."


    "Agreed."


    And sleep they did, not rising until mid-afternoon.


    Upon waking, Londra bandaged their few wounds and they both drank some strong healing potion to deal with any lingering Fairy Vesper magic. The medicine tasted foul, worse than warm wine and twice as bitter, but the best medicines often did. Afterwards, she returned to the paperwork she''d left before the evening''s excitement. Some dull routine would be exactly the refreshment they needed.


    As Konas lazed on her desk, Londra pulled an old tome from her collection. The title read On the Psychology of Imps.


    The white-furred contractor spied her choice of reading material. "Doing some research?"


    "You could say that."


    "Do I sense a trip to the well in our future?"


    She said nothing, only grinned without showing her teeth.


    Before she could dig into the grimoire though, a knock came at the office door. An old woman poked her head in.


    "Hello, are you the new Guild representative? I have something of an issue with the gnomes in my garden and Benden said you could help me. Old Winnakin never did, but the farmer''s daughter assured me you would."


    Sighing without annoyance, Londra put the book on imps aside. Such was the life of a small-town Guildswoman.


    "Duty calls, Konas."