Эприлинн Пайк: Spells

“We should get something for you,” she said, turning to Tamani.

“Oh, no. Not me. I don’t shop here. My market square is down the hill a little farther.”

“Then what’s this?”

“This is Summer Square.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, panicking again. “But I’m a Fall. I shouldn’t have gotten this.”

Tamani laughed. “No, no, Winter and Fall faeries shop where they like. There are too few of them to have their own square.”

“Oh.” She thought for a minute. “So could I shop in your square too?”

“I guess you could, but I don’t know why you’d want to.”

“Why not?”

Tamani shrugged. “It’s not pretty like the Summer Square. I mean, the square’s pretty; everything in Avalon is beautiful. But we don’t need trinkets and decor. We need clothing, food, and the tools of our many trades. I get my weapons there as well as the elixirs and potions I need for my sentry kits — those things are sent down from the Academy. The Summer faeries need the flashy things; it’s part of their trade. Those in theatre, especially. But if you look closer, particularly in some of the inside shops, you’ll find the more technical supplies. Paints and equipment for scenery, musical instruments, jewelry-making tools — that kind of thing.” He grinned. “The kiosks have all the sparkles and such in them so they catch the sun and draw more shoppers.”

They both laughed and Laurel reached up to touch the new hair comb. She wondered briefly what it would be worth back in California, and then dismissed the thought. It was nothing she’d ever sell, so it didn’t matter.

The crowd was thinning as they walked farther from marketplace. The broad earthen road was lined with houses now, and Laurel glanced from side to side in wonder. Each dwelling was made entirely of the same kind of sugar glass that formed the picture window in Laurel’s own room. The larger translucent orbs that opened out into the street were obviously living rooms; the slightly smaller pastel-tinged bubbles clustered on the sides and back Laurel suspected were bedrooms. Enormous curtains of pastel-colored silk were tucked behind each dwelling, allowing the sun to shine more brightly into the remarkable buildings, but Laurel saw how they could be draped over the glass for privacy at night. Each house sparkled in the sun, and many were decorated with strings of crystals and prisms catching the light and making it dance, just like the prisms Laurel had in her room back home. The whole neighborhood shimmered so brightly it was almost hard to look at, and Laurel realized that these were the “balloons” she’d seen from farther up the hill when she’d first arrived with Jamison. “They’re so pretty,” she mused.

“Indeed. I love to walk up through the Summer neighborhoods.”

The sparkling dwellings began to space out, and soon Laurel and Tamani were walking downhill again. The wide road cut through a meadow of clover with patches of flowers here and there; Laurel had only seen such meadows in movies. And even though she’d gotten used to the air in Avalon — always fragrant with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers — it was stronger out here, where the wind could freely carry each scent as it caressed her face. Laurel breathed in deeply, enjoying the invigorating breeze.

She paused when she realized Tamani wasn’t beside her anymore. She glanced back. He was crouched by the side of the path, wiping his hands on the cushy clover. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Tamani sprang to his feet, looking sheepish. “I — um, forgot my gloves,” he said quietly.

Laurel was confused for a second, then noticed that the clover looked a little sparkly. “You wear gloves to cover the pollen?” she guessed.

“It’s polite,” he said, clearing his throat.

Laurel thought back and realized that all the men in Summer Square had been wearing gloves. It made sense now. She hurried to change the subject to rescue Tamani from his obvious discomfort. “So what next?” she asked, her hand at her forehead, blocking the sun so she could see what lay farther down the road.

“I’m taking you to my favorite place in all of Avalon.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, excitement causing her to forget, momentarily, that she’d asked to be surprised. “Where?”

He smiled softly. “My home. I want you to meet my mother.”

A CHILL RIPPLED UP LAUREL’S BACK AS NERVOUSNESS and confusion battled for control. “Your mother?”

“Is…that all right?”

“You told me faeries didn’t have mothers.”

Tamani opened his mouth and then closed it again, his brow furrowing — the look he always got when he was caught in a half-truth. “I never actually said faeries don’t have mothers,” he said slowly. “I said things are different here. And they are.”

“But you — I…I just assumed that since, you know, faeries come from seeds — you said you take care of yourselves!” she demanded, a little angry now.

“We do,” Tamani said, trying to appease her. “I mean, mostly. Mothering is not quite the same here as it is in the human world.”

“But you have a mother?”

He nodded, and she could tell he knew what was coming next.

“Do I have a mother? A faerie one, I mean?”

He was silent for a moment, and Laurel could see he didn’t want to say it. Finally he shrugged, a tiny, almost invisible shrug, and shook his head.

Shock and disappointment surged through her. It didn’t help that, despite the tension at home, she missed her mom acutely and was feeling more than a little homesick. Tears threatened, but Laurel refused to let them come. She spun on her heel and continued walking down the hill, glad there wasn’t anyone close by. “Why not?” she asked peevishly.

“You just don’t.”

“But you do. Why do you have one?” She knew she sounded childish and petulant, but she didn’t care.

“Because I’m not a Fall or Winter faerie.”

Laurel stopped and turned back to Tamani. “So? Are we born differently?”

Tamani shook his head.

“The seed I was born in, it was made by two faeries, right?”

Tamani hesitated, then nodded.

“Then where are they? Maybe I could—”

“I don’t know,” Tamani said, cutting her off. “No one knows. The records of it are destroyed,” he finished quietly.

“Why?”

“Fall and Winter faeries don’t stay with their parents. They are children of Avalon; children of the crown. It’s not like in the human world,” he added. “Relationships are not the same.”

“So the relationship you have with your mother isn’t like the relationship I have with mine back home?” Laurel asked. She knew referring to someplace besides Avalon as home would bother Tamani, but she was too angry to feel bad about it.

“That’s not what I meant. When you make a seed, it’s just a seed. It is very, very precious because it is the potential for new life, but the relationship does not begin with the seed. It begins when the sprout blooms and the seedling goes home to live with its parents — but only Spring and Summer faeries live with their parents. Your…seed makers—”

“Parents,” Laurel interrupted.

“Fine. Your parents might have been disappointed when they found out you wouldn’t be their seedling, that you would never come home with them, but they would mostly celebrate their contribution to society. As far as they were concerned, you weren’t a person yet. They wouldn’t have missed you, because they didn’t know you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes, it is.” His hand came to her shoulder, pulling her to a stop before she could turn onto the broad central road. “Because I know how unselfish you are. Would you rather you were able to experience the reunion with a long-lost set of parents who had been suffering for years missing and loving you, or would you rather they weren’t hurting while you were raised by human parents who adore you?”