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  Seylin led her to a clearing in the woods and worked all the pretty elf magic he knew for her. He surrounded her with bobbing crescent moons and grew the plant with glowing flowers that had always entranced Emily. He made each constellation over her head glow brightly and then change into the object it was named for, and he brought the rabbits out of their holes to dance.

  Then he showed her goblin magic. He made a fire of rainbow flames. He made a wall of glowing smoke that encircled the two of them in a golden room, and he wrote her name in fiery sparks at her feet.

  Jane watched everything in a delight beyond words, her sparkling eyes huge in her pinched face. And when he finally led her back to her house and said good-bye, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  “I’ll never forget real magic,” she said. “Tonight was a happy ending all its own.”

  Seylin set off into the woods again, glad to have made her happy, but the shy young man walked all night long, determined to put some distance between himself and the human world that had placed a little claim on his affection. When dawn came, he pitched his tent deep in the forest and slept soundly all day, far from human dwellings.

  While he ate his meal in the early twilight that evening, he thought again about Jane. He began to feel anxious. Something hadn’t been right. The kiss! Those lips and thin arms had been so hot when they had touched him! They shouldn’t have been like that. He remembered Jane’s sparkling eyes, her chattering teeth. The little girl had been burning up with fever.

  Seylin broke camp as quickly as he could and began to retrace his steps. As he walked, he argued with himself. What did a human mean to elves or goblins? If this neglected girl were to die, that wasn’t his fault. She meant nothing to him, nothing at all, and he had given her a pleasant memory to think about while she was dying. What more should elves and goblins do for a human? Humans never did anything for them.

  But even as Seylin argued, he walked faster, and he scanned the ground for the herbs used in the Fever Spell. He had very little experience with human illness. Emily had been sick several times, but Marak had cured her as soon as she began to feel bad. Jane’s skinny body had been sick now for at least two days. He doubted she would survive without help.

  He arrived at the dilapidated house a couple of hours before dawn to find light glimmering from an upstairs window. He changed into a cat and quickly scrambled up a nearby tree. A candle flickered in the little girl’s bedroom, and she lay quite still beneath the covers. Her wise and handsome father sat sobbing beside her, her hands clasped in his own.

  Seylin lashed his tail furiously. He was too late. This was poor little Jane’s happy ending. But just as he was about to climb down from his tree and set out again on his journey, he saw her twitch beneath the covers. She wasn’t dead yet.

  The reserved young man who had been raised never to interfere with humans didn’t hesitate for a second. He was out of the tree in two bounds. He changed into his own form, retrieved his fever herbs, and was in the house and up the stairs as fast as he could move. Jane’s father reeled back at the sight of him, but Seylin didn’t stop for introductions.

  “Bring me a cup of boiling water,” he ordered.

  A kettle was already on the grate, so his hot water arrived quickly. The young man set it carefully on the floor and put the herbs into it, whispering the spell over the dirty cup.

  “Jane,” he said when it was ready, putting his hand on that blazing forehead; but, just like the elf girl in his story, Jane didn’t know he was there. He turned to her father, who was watching him with hollow eyes.

  “I need a spoon,” he said. “Help me get this into her.” They managed to spoon the hot liquid into the girl’s mouth, and by the time it was half gone, she was able to drink it from the cup.

  So much for the fever, thought the pleased Seylin, and he began to murmur the Locating Spell. He expected to find her lungs damaged, or her head, or her stomach. Instead, he found damage over her entire body. There it was, the disease that held her, a bright red rash at the moment. It was very common in the human world, and when it didn’t kill, it scarred for life. The goblins had no spell to treat this disease; their human brides were safe from it in the underground kingdom. The nomadic elves had no such protected climate for the elf King’s human wife or the human slaves they sometimes used. They had a spell for it, but what was it? Which constellation? Seylin closed his eyes, thinking hard.

  That was it. He had it now. It centered on the moon, with its scars and circles. In his mind, he reached for the crescent moon and repeated the words of the spell. The bright red rash faded away before his eyes, leaving the skin pale and smooth.

  “Do you know you’re in danger?” stammered the unkempt man. “My daughter has smallpox.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” answered Seylin in relief. Jane was free of illness. But she was still underfed, neglected, dirty, lonely, unhealthy, and unhappy. He was already interfering in the human world. Why stop now?

  “It’s a miracle!” the man breathed. “A miracle! I saw it!”

  “No,” answered Seylin. “It’s not a real miracle, just a happy ending caused by magic worked by an elf raised by goblins. You didn’t tell your daughter the truth. You filled her head with stories and then took them away from her. And she adores you; she thinks her wise and handsome father knows everything. If I had a daughter like this, I’d give her more to live on than lies. Regular meals would be a good start.”

  The man sank down on the foot of the bed.

  “You don’t understand,” he replied. “I grew up a gentleman. I’m not prepared for this kind of life. My mother wanted me to make a name for myself in politics, but I came home from college, and that’s when I met Liza.”

  “Is that the beautiful maiden your daughter talked about?” asked Seylin. “Why were you forbidden to speak to her?”

  The man gave a rueful shrug. “Is a gentleman ever supposed to converse with the housemaids? But she was right about Liza’s beauty. I was wild about the girl. I won her trust, and I ruined her. When my mother found out she was pregnant, she dismissed her from service. Nobody would give her any work.

  “There was my poor Liza, out in the street, and my child with her. I decided to marry her. But my mother was so angry when she learned of the marriage that she threw me out, too, and now Liza and I were in the street together. I had never learned how to make a living, so Liza worked for us both. She died soon after Jane’s birth. I make a little money every now and then, when I can find something to do. Really, I don’t know how. It’s just not something I was taught.”

  Seylin surveyed the human with growing disgust. “You’d have more money for food if you didn’t drink away what you get, and you’d earn more money if you weren’t still drunk in the mornings. Jane loves magic. She’ll be thrilled to find out that her father is under an enchantment.” He concentrated for a minute and tapped the human on the shoulder. Then he picked up his herbs and walked to the door.

  “Wait a minute!” said the man, upset. “What did you just do?”

  “That’s an elf spell,” Seylin told him, “to keep the human slaves out of the winter cider. Try drinking anything but water now and you’ll just throw it up. That should help you wake up in the morning.”

  He walked outside to retrieve his dewy pack. The sky was brightening in the east, but he still had some time left. Seylin set out at a steady pace. He would be miles away from this depressing house before the day broke in earnest.

  Chapter Four

  “They’re eating me alive!” shrieked Emily, and she dropped the pack to scratch. She was standing on a hedge-lined road that ran between flat fields, waterlogged and muddy with recent rainfall. Midges and gnats whined past her ears and danced before her eyes.

  The scrawny gray squirrel on her shoulder clung tightly to its perch and chattered with disapproval. “I never heard such a fuss over a few tiny bugs!” it shrilled. “All this hysterical skipping about! Your sister would never do anything so u
ndignified.”

  Kate and Ruby had had only one unfriendly encounter, and that had happened before Kate became Marak’s wife. Changed into a squirrel, Ruby had taken a turn at guarding the King’s Bride from harm, and the furious Kate had chased her up a tree. But all was forgiven after the ceremony. Kate could do no wrong. After all, as Ruby often remarked in reverent tones, the King’s Wife was an elf.

  “Oh, I am just so sick of hearing you talk about my sister!” cried Emily. “She had the same mother and father that I had! How can she be an elf and be perfect, and I’m just a horrid human? Well? Answer me that!”

  “It’s a dreadful misfortune,” agreed the squirrel. “For all of us,” it added quietly.

  “And how is it that you’re supposed to be protecting me and you’re letting these things bite me by the dozen? I can’t wait to tell Marak how you’ve failed his trust.”

  “The King stressed that you were to experience your world just like a regular human. Bugs belong to your world, and you’re experiencing them,” Ruby replied with evident satisfaction.

  “I’ll tell Marak that you let me be attacked by wild beasts,” threatened Emily.

  “A midge is hardly a wild beast.”

  “Then tame one!”

  The squirrel chattered and grumbled for a few seconds. “All right. Goodness! Such a commotion over a few bites.” And she worked the Insect Spell. Silence reigned for a quarter of an hour as Emily squelched down the muddy road.

  “Now it’s starting to rain again! Ruby, why won’t you work the Rain Spell? I’m already soaked to the skin.”

  “I am not allowed to interfere unless you are in danger. Comfort,” enunciated her former teacher, “does not belong to the human world.”

  “Neither do talking squirrels,” said Emily viciously.

  “I’ve had enough,” snapped the squirrel. “I’m going to find some peace and quiet. Scream if you really need my help, and I’ll come save you.” She bounded from Emily’s shoulder down to the road, ran lightly across the top of the mud, and disappeared through a hole in the hedge.

  Emily picked her way along, studying the dark clouds overhead and trying to keep up her spirits. They could hardly be lower. Except for his one trading journey, she and Seylin had never been apart for any length of time. She remembered how miserable she had been while he was gone. All the diversions of the goblin kingdom hadn’t been enough to replace him. He had come back stiff and formal, and she had been angry about it, but she had still seen his embarrassed face at least once a day. She had assumed that she always would.

  Now she hadn’t seen him in weeks, and she missed him dreadfully, more than she had ever missed anyone. She had to find him again. She couldn’t imagine life without him. In her mind, she practiced the speech she would say when they met. It had changed over the course of the last few weeks. “Get married? I don’t really want to marry anybody, but if I have to, I’ll marry you.” “Get married? If you feel that way, it’s all right with me.” “Get married? I’d like to—if it’s with you, I mean.” And now, “Where are you, for heaven’s sake? Why aren’t you looking for me? Seylin, don’t you want to get married?”

  Loud barking interrupted her reverie. The gray squirrel came flying across the road and charged up her, clambering onto the top of the pack. A couple of mongrels, baying noisily, burst through a gap in the hedge. Two small boys followed them, waving sticks and yelling.

  “Hey, she’s got our squirrel!”

  “Give it back, then!”

  Emily put a hand over the trembling creature and kicked the nearest of the dogs. “It’s mine now,” she announced firmly. “You can’t have it.”

  The larger boy pushed his cap from his forehead and studied the squirrel critically.

  “Ah, come on, Archie,” he said to his companion. “It’s ratty-looking, anyway.”

  In another minute, they were out of sight, and Ruby was her accustomed form. Breathing heavily, the woman pulled her hood low over her eyes and sat down upon the step of a nearby stile.

  “Why did you let them chase you?” demanded Emily in amusement. “You had all sorts of magic you could work.”

  “I—I don’t know,” panted Ruby. “They just looked so big, and”—she wiped her brow—“I think I just panicked.”

  Emily was moved to grudging sympathy. “It could have happened to anybody, I suppose,” she observed, taking out their water flask and handing it over. “Why don’t you stay here and rest. There’s a village just down the road, in that clump of trees. I’ll go find some shelter.”

  “You’ll go ask after Seylin.”

  The young woman put down her pack and stared. She was completely thunderstruck. During the whole boring, difficult journey, she hadn’t mentioned Seylin once.

  “What did Marak tell you?” she demanded indignantly.

  “What would the King need to tell me?” Ruby took a drink. “Before breakfast, he told me that you were leaving on some ridiculous quest. During breakfast, he told us all that Seylin had just left on a serious one. You always did keep that boy’s heart on a string, and you’re furious that he’s decided to find an elf.”

  Emily was outraged.

  “I never kept his heart anywhere, and he didn’t decide to find an elf! If you want to know the truth, he asked to marry me.”

  “And why didn’t he?”

  “There was a misunderstanding.”

  Ruby glared at her from beneath the hood. “I feel sure of that! Then you shot out of the kingdom like an arrow from a bow, without even stopping to think. You walked right past Seylin’s tracks four different times and didn’t even notice. You’re dragging me all over this dismal countryside without a hope of finding him. Isn’t that just like a human!”

  She climbed to her feet and began walking down the road, shading her eyes on that dark, stormy day from what little sunlight there was.

  Emily opened her mouth to say something scathing, but she didn’t. Instead, she thought carefully for a minute and arranged her features into a humble expression.

  “If only I knew what I was doing wrong,” she mourned.

  “You’re not thinking like an elf,” declared the teacher triumphantly. “You’re asking every human you meet about Seylin when you think I’m not nearby. Humans won’t see Seylin. Humans never did see the elves. You won’t learn anything that way.”

  “You would know where to look for him,” Emily said softly, looking so humble that she thought her face would crack. “You wouldn’t make the mistakes I’m making. You’d know how to think like an elf.”

  It worked. Ruby’s voice grew distant and thoughtful.

  “Yes, I would,” she replied. “If I were looking for Seylin, I’d be in the elf King’s forest.”

  “The forest?” Emily was disappointed. “We looked there, and I didn’t find a thing.”

  “Oh, no, we didn’t. You just looked in the small strip of woodland that lies on goblin land. The elf King’s forest is huge. No one goes there now. Humans are afraid of it because the elf spells still linger. Goblins don’t like it, either, but I’d like to walk through it just once.”

  “Really?” Emily was interested in spite of herself. “Why would you, if goblins don’t like it?”

  “Because I’m a strong elf cross,” replied Ruby smugly. “That’s where I got my hair.”

  “Oh,” remarked Emily. She couldn’t think of anything more complimentary to say. “Then we’ll go there, Ruby. I think you’re right. We’ll look for Seylin the elf way.”

  Ruby crossed her arms. “I’m not helping you find him,” she declared.

  Emily grinned. “I think you already have.”

  In the goblin kingdom, the little children had stopped asking when Emily would come back. They walked sadly by their playmate’s empty apartment and wondered where she was. Catspaw and Til in particular were hard-hit by the loss. The human orphan that Kate had saved from the sorcerer’s lair and her foster brother, the goblin prince, both adored their aunt Emily. She was the
only person in the kingdom who could distract the two children so well that they forgot to quarrel with each other.

  The nurse brought the children into the royal rooms for the walk down to the banquet hall. Kate and Marak heard them coming well before they saw them.

  “Father!”

  “Papa!”

  The pair charged in, racing to be the first to reach Marak. Til was older and larger and took the lead for an easy win, but the young prince stretched out his lion’s paw after her as she ran by. She began to slide backward with every step, running as hard as she could and going nowhere. But as Catspaw trotted past the angry girl, she socked him hard in the stomach. Catspaw doubled over, and Til won the race.

  “Papa, Papa!” she cried, clambering onto his lap. The goblin King put one arm around her and held the other out toward his angry son.

  “No vengeful magic!” he ordered sharply, intercepting the bolt, and whatever Catspaw had intended for Til didn’t happen. He had to fall back instead on that childhood favorite, the verbal insult.

  “You don’t have a Father!” He scowled, walking up to his father, whose lap was now full.

  “You don’t have a Papa,” retorted the little girl, leering at him from her prized vantage point.

  “Silence,” commanded the goblin King, catching his son’s paw to prevent further outbursts. “Til, you just struck Catspaw. You know that’s wrong, and it’s also very dangerous. What do you have to say about it?”

  Til’s mobile young face crumpled at once, and her black eyes filled with tears. “But he’s so mean, Papa,” she quavered. “I hate Catspaw! He’s always doing things like that to me.”

  “So he is,” commented Marak, patting her short black hair, which Catspaw had only recently singed off again. “Since you hate Catspaw, you’ll be glad to know that I have some new playmates for you. Tomorrow you can come with your mother and me to the pages’ floor to see your room, and you and another little girl will stay in that room and be pages together.”

  “I don’t want to stay with another little girl,” she whimpered. “I hate little girls!”