The air was rent with the shrill cry of a steam whistle as the 1:10 Express slowed to a halt at Bodgerstreet station. A small, brightly painted locomotive headed a short train of cheerfully decorated railcars, which were now beginning to dispense an equally colorful assortment of persons. A grim dwarf dressed in blue livery stepped onto the platform first, blowing hard on a long whistle which was only just visible past the billowing mass of his copper colored beard and great waxed moustaches. Hardly anyone seemed to pay attention to him however, as the railcars were already rapidly disgorging their passengers which quickly swallowed up the dwarf as he vainly attempted to direct the traffic of people about him. Most of them were humans. The men were dressed in doublets and wearing broad brimmed hats festooned with feathers. Great sweeping capes barely concealed the massive rapiers which many of them bore, while the women were attired in brightly colored gowns in silks and satins. Dispersed within the multitude were also many dwarves dressed in a similar fashion as the humans, the men of whom were further distinguished by their great beards of coppery red or coal black. Here and there too, various animals could be seen making their way freely through the throng. At one place a Kangaroo wearing a messenger’s bag was bounding heedlessly through the crowd, while at another a harried looking dwarf woman had stopped to ask for directions from a genteel looking Heron wearing a tall hat. The crowd was now spilling past the platform and into the long porticos of the timber-framed station building as the clock surmounting the structure struck the quarter hour. Bit by bit the crowd thinned out as the people gradually filtered through to the street and went their various ways.

Further down Bodgerstreet things were a bit quieter. About a half mile or so from the railway station the rattle of a small handcart pushed across the cobblestones by a dwarf was about all the noise there was. Nearby a tall Stork wearing a scarlet tabard and a satchel bearing a royal seal made his way along the row of houses, carefully examining the addresses. The Stork had paused now in front of a tall, narrowly built house and peered at the plate above the letter box at the door.

26 Bodgerstreet

Camilla Helwig

Satisfied, the Bird reached into his satchel with one claw and produced a couple of envelopes, which he deposited in the letter box. He then moved on to the next house, humming idly to himself as he went.

High above the place where the avian letter carrier had just stood, Lindsey sat peering through a window in the attic of number 26 as she watched the quiet scene in the street below.

Lindsey and Dackery had been hiding out at Camilla Helwig’s house for almost a week now. During that time Dackery had been busy. He would vanish first thing in the morning, taking breakfast with Lindsey and Camilla and then making a gate to somewhere or other. Some days he’d be back for lunch only to go off again for the rest of the afternoon, while on other days he might not come back again at all until well after midnight. He didn’t talk very much about his mysterious errands, but when he did he spoke of having made many attempts to enter Linster, probing Gurth’s defenses and testing their limits. He had also been doing the rounds among his more trusted acquaintances, drawn from a long list of associations he had acquired during his lifetime of travelling in the Fairworld, in the hopes of somehow getting word to the Good Folk and reestablishing contact with either Elred or the Bird.

Throughout all this there was precious little for Lindsey to do other than to loaf idly about house. It was a stressful and frustrating occupation (or rather lack thereof). Fortunately the company was pleasant and interesting. From the very beginning Camilla Helwig had been a considerate and gracious hostess in all respects (especially given the circumstances), but at first she had remained rather cool and reserved towards Lindsey. It had taken a few days for her to thaw out, but by this time she and Lindsey had become proper friends.

Lindsey took a last bored look at the street below her, and then with a sigh she repaired from the window. Camilla was somewhere downstairs, and while Lindsey did her best to avoid being constantly in the good woman’s hair, there was only so much boredom and solitude she could bear.

Camilla’s house was very tall and narrow with each floor longer than the one below it. Lindsey wound her way down the tight stairways and made her way into the kitchen. Camilla was sitting at the kitchen table with a letter before her. Standing also at the table was Angela, Camilla’s maidservant. More precisely, the maid stood on the kitchen table rather than at it, for Angela happened to be a large Pelican. She had black and white plumage and wore a small apron and mob cap of printed fabric as she stood solemnly on the table while Camilla spoke, her long yellow bill almost touching the tabletop as the Bird nodded silently now and then.

Camilla looked up and smiled at Lindsey as she came into the room, and then returned to her conversation.

“Now for the next letter, it seems we have yet another order from Barnabas Johnson. This time he’s looking to acquire some powdered ferimunger. I expect Vorelli’s will have plenty in stock. Mr. Johnson only wants a quarter pound, but I think I should get two just the same. Be sure the grains are quite small and have a good green color to them, I’m sure Mr. Johnson needs the best quality. If you take the 1:37 train you should have plenty of time to do all the shopping and catch the 3:02 on your way back.”

“It would be faster if I flew there directly, ma’am.”

“But then you’d be passing over the foundries on the way, and I don’t want you breathing in all that smoke. Besides, you’ll have all the parcels to carry on the way back. The trains are much better.”

“Yes ma’am. Will that be all?”

“I think so dear, thank you.”

The Pelican nodded once more and then hopped off the table and waddled out the kitchen door.

As the Pelican left the room Lindsey turned to Camilla.

“If you want I could go with Angela and help her carry her packages.”

“It’s very kind of you to offer, Lindsey, but Horatio thinks it would be safer if you stayed indoors as much as possible, and I agree with him. Angela will be alright, so long as she takes the train that is. She’s a dear soul, but hopelessly stubborn.”

Lindsey sighed. It would have been nice to get out of the house. As it was, she sauntered over to the kitchen table and sat down across from Camilla.

“I gotta say, I was surprised when I first saw that train. No offense, but I didn’t get the feeling that anybody around here could make machines like that.”

“Yes, we’re uniquely blessed to have them. Such things are extraordinarily rare elsewhere in the Fairworld.”

“Why is that?”

“There are a variety of factors at play, but mostly it’s because of the Good Folk.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Yes, they can be quite assertive at times, in their own way. Steam technology was first developed in Anachrona almost two hundred years ago. At the time I don’t think the Good Folk were particularly happy about it, and so far as any I can tell they seem to have taken steps to ensure that no one else ever acquires it.”

“But why would they do that?”

“I suppose they think it’s for our own good. I think they like to keep things moving at a slower pace here. They prefer to keep the more disruptive and revolutionary technologies contained where they are, as well as moderating the general flow of human migration. On the one hand the various peoples of our world live largely in isolation from one another, mostly interacting only with our immediate neighbors. On the other hand it makes it that much easier to prevent things like plagues and large wars. Everything comes at a cost, I’m afraid.”

“Hmph. The Good Folk sure are a bossy bunch, aren’t they?”

“Not really. They leave us to manage ourselves for the most part, and only rarely do they directly intervene in our own internal affairs. Indeed, there are many times when I wish they would actually do more. And then there are times when I wish they would do less. It’s an imperfect universe. All things considered, I think that the Good Folk are doing a tolerable enough job in their own way. The Fairworld is a special place. I never wish to leave it.”

“Yeah, it’s not everyday you meet a talking Pelican….though come to think of it I suppose you actually do. Do all animals talk in the Fairworld?”

“Goodness no! No, the vast majority of the animals here are merely simple beasts, only the wightbeasts are capable of speech.”

“Wightbeasts?”

“It’s the word we use for such creatures. A wight is a term for a sentient being like a human, thus a wightbeast is an animal which is sentient in the same way that a human is.”

“That’s weird. How in the world did that ever happen?”

“Nobody knows really. The origins of the wightbeasts is a mystery. There was magic involved in it, that’s for certain. The wightbeasts have many anatomical characteristics which are unlikely to have evolved naturally, such as specialized vocal cords which allow them to perfectly emulate human speech. And their brains are developed far beyond that of their respective counterparts among the simple beasts, to the point that they are very much equal to humans, dwarves, and elfkin. Intellectually, that is. Physically they can be quite disadvantaged at times. Our humanoid anatomy is ideally suited to ourselves as natural tool users, and there are many things which come naturally to us which can never be easy for the wightbeasts. Of course there are some things which wightbeasts can do much better than we can, but in general this means that their options for employment tend to be more limited, and there are only so many specialized jobs out there where wightbeasts are at a competitive advantage. Here in Anachrona we have managed to live in common with the wightbeasts for centuries, but in many other parts of the world that is not at all the case. In other places the wightbeasts live completely apart from humans and their like, while in others there are hardly any wightbeasts at all. Here in Meridiana the population of wightbeasts seems to be particularly high, which I think is part of the reason why we’ve wound up living on top of one another the way we do here. The other reason of course is the legacy of the Reman Empire.”

“The Reman Empire?”

“Yes. Here, let me show you.”

Camilla arose and stepped over to the other side of the room. On the wall there was a small framed picture, which she took down and brought to the table.

“Now here’s something you won’t find very often: A map of the world (well, part the world anyway). It’s not a very good one, quite old fashioned and out of date, but the new ones are hardly any better. However it does give you a rough idea of where we are relative to the rest of the world.

We’re here in Anachrona, which is in the subcontinent of Meridiana. Long ago the Remans controlled most of the territory from here all the way up to the west coast of Ursiland. The Remans developed a legal system through which the wightbeasts were given a degree of status and integrated into mainstream human society.in an organized way. Most of our modern laws and customs surrounding the wightbeasts have their origins somewhere in Reman law. For example, the Remans required that wighbeasts wear distinctive articles of clothing when in public. This is called The Mark of Wight, and it serves to protect the wightbeasts from being accidentally confused with simple beasts. The tradition continues to this day here in Anachrona, and you’ll notice that wightbeasts here always wear some kind of clothing, even if it’s just a hat. This is but one example of the kinds of systems which the Remans created to ensure that wightbeasts and humanoids can live together in harmony, and their system worked, well enough at least to have lasted through the ages. Even elfkin like the Drixi have been heavily influenced by Reman tradition (something which I’m sure they would not be keen to admit, given how much they fear and despise humans).”

“I’ve heard of a Roman empire, but up to now I’ve never heard of a Reman one.”

“Well, the story is that there were twin brothers, Romulus and Remus. They were the grandsons of Numitor, a king who had been deposed by his brother, Amulius. When the brothers were born Amulius ordered them killed, seeing them as a threat to his stolen throne, but the brothers were rescued by one of the lords of the Uryads, who were the greatest among the Good Folk in those days. The boys were given into the care of the great she-wolf Vixitra, who cared for the children and raised them with the aid of a shepherd. At some point after reaching manhood the twins discovered their true identities and joined forces with their grandfather and deposed Amulius. The twins then set out to build a new kingdom of their own. However, the twins then quarrelled among themselves and Romulus tried to kill Remus. However, Remus was saved at the last moment when the fairy-wolf Vixitra returned and carried Remus away to the Fairworld. She then helped Remus to found the city of Reme while Romulus was busy establishing Rome. Plenty of Greeks had already come to the Fairworld in those days, brought here by the Good Folk. Many of them joined Remus, or else were later conquered by his successors. There must have still been some sort of special connection between Rome and Reme, for the two evolved in parallel with one another and were staggeringly similar, even across the chasm which divides the two worlds. Indeed, both empires even came to an end at about the same time, and both left their profound marks on the worlds they left behind.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about both worlds. Have you always lived in the Fairworld?”

“In point of fact, no. Like you, I grew up on our earth.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. ‘Camilla Helwig’ is not my real name. Or rather, it is my real name now, but it is not the name I was born with. I’m originally from Canada. I had an very ordinary sort of childhood, but when I was a young woman I found a way into the Fairworld. It was entirely an accident, really. Horatio discovered the Fairworld through years of research while you yourself were touched directly by the Good Folk. But with me it was purely random chance, or as random a chance as anything can ever really be in the universe. Gatemaking is a specific technique for creating temporary portals between places, but sometimes portals (or rather fissures) open up on their own. Magic is never completely predictable. I came across such a fissure once and quite literally fell through it. And there I was, stranded in another world. At first I had quite a time of it, as you might imagine. I’ve got an awful lot of stories from those days and I’d love to tell you them all someday. As it was, I somehow managed to survive on my own until the Good Folk eventually discovered me. They offered to take me home, but by that time I’d pretty much made up my mind that I wanted to stay. When you’ve been to this place once, it never quite leaves you, and likewise a part of you can never quite leave it. I found I could never leave it all. Instead I asked Good Folk to take me as one of their servants. And they agreed.

I spent many years serving Good Folk in various capacities. It was a magnificent experience. I saw so many wonderful things and visited so many amazing places. But over the years I became frustrated with my employers. I would never say they were bad. No, never bad (though I suppose some might disagree on that score). But neither would I say they are as good as they could be. I met Horatio many years ago, and soon after that I finally left the Good Folk. I traveled with Horatio for a time, and then spent many years travelling on my own. I suppose I always was the footloose sort. Even before I came to the Fairworld I never really stayed in one place for very long or kept up with friends and family. But a proverbial rolling stone can only ever roll so far before it begins to slow down. I found myself getting on in years, and for the first time I finally felt like settling down somewhere. I acquired this house in Anachrona a number of years ago, and these days I make my living as a dealer in petty magic.

Sometimes I do wonder whether I made the right choices. I’ve only ever been back to our earth a couple of times in my life. I left everything behind in order to stay here and serve the Good Folk, and sometimes I feel that was quite a steep price to pay for the privilege of being their errand-girl. Still I had a wonderful life and many amazing experiences, and I hope I managed to do some good along the way. But it was a choice that I made, and I had to give a lot up in order to have that life.”

Lindsey had been listening intently all the while Camilla had been speaking. On the one had she had a new feeling of kinship with Camilla. Yet somehow Camilla’s last comment had left her feeling slightly unsettled.

There was a noise from elsewhere in the house, and suddenly Dackery looked in through the doorway.

“Good afternoon Ms Fluger, good afternoon Camilla. I have a few things to attend to, but then I’ll need to speak to you both. I will be back shortly.”

Dackery disappeared from view again, and Lindsey could hear his footsteps as he trudged up the narrow stairs of Camilla’s slender house.

Lindsey turned to Camilla. There was something she needed to ask her, but she didn’t quite know how to go about it. Not politely, anyway.

“How long have you known Mr. Dackery?”

“Oh my, I must have known Horatio for almost thirty years now.”

Lindsey hesitated a moment.

“Do you trust him?”

This time it was Camilla who hesitated.

“I trust Horatio to be true to himself. And Horatio is a man who prizes trueness in others. In all the years I’ve known him he’s never once lied to me.”

“That’s nice to know.”

“Horatio’s a good man, Lindsey. In fact, I personally would consider him one of the best. That’s not to say he doesn’t have his faults. He has a great many of them. But he’s a good man. A very good man.”

Camilla had taken on a wistful look as she spoke. Lindsey suddenly had the feeling that Camilla may not be entirely unbiased in her assessment of Dackery.

“Do you care for him?”

Camilla laughed in an embarrassed sort of way.

“Well, I suppose I do in a way. We’ve known one another for a very long time. But we’re both solitary individuals. I’m quite content as I am. Outside of Angela I really wouldn’t want to bother with having someone else always around the house. Besides, Horatio’s life experiences extend far before my own, and will likely continue long after I’m gone. I don’t think I’d ever really be comfortable knowing that.”

“What do you mean? I mean, I know Mr. Dackery is really old. How has he managed to live so long?”

“Actually, I think now would probably be a good time for lunch, given that Horatio is here.”

Camilla stood up and began rummaging about in the kitchen.

Lindsey was about to press Camilla further when a creaking from stairwell outside the room announced that the subject of their conversation was soon to be rejoining them. Lindsey would have to wait for another opportunity.

A moment or two later and Dackery reentered the kitchen. His usual three piece suit was gone, and in its place he wore a peculiar ensemble consisting of a long, loose fitting tunic with a high collar and wide sleeves which was cinched at the waist with a belt, under which he wore close fitting trousers and pair of heavy boots.

Dackery sat down, heaving his great form into a chair at the table, and then idly picked up the world map which Camilla had left there and perused it without speaking. Camilla had meanwhile sliced some bread and an assortment of cheeses, and bringing them over to the table sat down as well. Dackery then set the map down and tapped it in a didactic sort of way.

“The Fairworld is a big place. And this isn’t even a complete map. It’s missing an entire continent or two. But be that as it may, there’s only one place that we really need to worry about getting to right now.

The seal which has been put on Linster is a good one. I have made repeated attempts to create a gateway to Linster over the last few days, and thus far I’ve had no luck getting through. That being said, there is no such thing as an impenetrable defense. There are a number of potential options at our disposal. One ways to get past this kind of barrier is to try and confuse the lock by taking a roundabout route to get there. The idea is to mask the intended destination by making a series of gates in rapid succession from one place to another, such that the lock isn’t actually sure whether the area it protects is your true destination or if you are just passing through. The problem with this though is that it is not very reliable. It could take us months of experimentation before we’d hit upon just the right way in which to fool this particular lock, and we don’t have that kind of time. Gurth knows we are after him, and it is only a matter of time before we make it to Linster and break his little enchantment there. He’s not going to wait for that to happen. The witches are investing a great deal of effort to protect their supply of slaves coming from Linster. If they can’t get what they want through black magic, then they’ll do it through politics. Gurth has already been blackmailing the whole country for years. From his current situation it won’t take long for him to establish total political control, after which it won’t matter so much whether the curse is ever broken or not. I have picked up a couple of bits of information over the last few days which suggest to me that the witches are already on the move, I’d say we have only a few weeks at most before we will have lost whatever opportunity we had.”

“Can’t the Good Folk help us get there in time?”

“I’ve been trying to establish contact with them over the last few days. However the Good Folk are elusive even at the best of times, and neither I nor Camilla have maintained any direct connections with them for many years. I have other friends and associates in the Fairworld, however of these I have only thus far canvassed those whom I trust with absolute confidence, and as such my list of contacts is a short one.”

“But what can we do?”

“The way I see it, we can keep working at the lock and hope that we can get through before it’s either too late or before the witches track us down and catch us. Alternatively, I can keep making the rounds among my associates until one of them manages to make contact with the Good Folk, during which time the witches will still be looking for us and Gurth will be free to make himself at home behind Linster’s throne. We could of course try to fly there, but again that would mean procuring something that can fly, which could take a long time. It’s not like there are griffons for hire on every street corner. In all three cases we are left with an open ended timeline which may well conclude with our eventual discovery and capture. There is a fourth option though.”

“And that is?”

“We walk.”

“Are you serious?”

“Perfectly. In my experiments over the last few days I discovered that although I could never actually make a gateway directly into Linster, I could manage to make a gate to a number of points outside, much closer than I had initially thought possible. It would take time and I don’t know the territory well, but with a good guide we could probably walk the rest of the way there in a reasonable amount of time.”

“But wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Very. But not necessarily any more dangerous than any of our other options. We’d be on the move and quite possibly doing something which the witches won’t expect. In the meanwhile Camilla can remain here and keep trying to establish contact with the Good Folk through our various associates. Personally I think it’s our best option.”

“But you said we needed a guide. Where are we going to find one that we can trust?”

“That’s the riskiest part. It means engaging with people I don’t exactly know and don’t exactly trust. However, the truth is that the Good Folk aren’t the only ones seeking to thwart the witches’ schemes. In fact, in many respects they are the least of the witches’ problems given the, shall we say, circumspect way in which the Good Folk prefer to handle political matters. The empire of the witches may be greatly reduced from what it was two millennia ago, but mark my words it is still a power to be reckoned with. The border regions are greatly oppressed at times, and the witches have made many bitter enemies there. And some of them are rather well organized.

In considering these facts I paid a visit this morning to an acquaintance of mine who lives in these borderlands. The man himself I would discount as potential guide. I am not particularly inclined to trust him enough for that, and even if I were I doubt he could be induced to help us, given his circumstances. However he is deeply involved with some individuals who may be much better suited to assist us. Unlike certain others whom I will neglect to mention, these people are completely dedicated to destroying the witches.”

Dackery paused for a moment and looked Lindsey directly in the eye.

“At this point, if we want to reach Linster and bring the fight to Gurth anytime soon we’re going to have to take a risk. A big one. And I think that if we going to take such a risk, our best shot is to travel to Linster by foot as I have described. But the choice is yours. This is your cause now, and whatever we do your life is the one which is most in danger. Think about what I’ve said, but I would advise you to make a decision very soon.”

Lindsey took a deep breath.

On the one hand Dackery’s logic made sense to her. On the other hand, she was also keenly aware that she knew very little about this world and the dangers which lurked within it. Dackery’s plan could be suicide for all she really knew.

Yet the choice was up to her. She could spend days fretting over what to do, but it wouldn’t make a difference. She couldn’t make herself into a superwoman by doing that, nor did she really expect she’d come up with any better ideas on her own. She could only work with what she had, and no amount of agonizing would change that. And in the end, she already knew what her decision was going to be.

Lindsey looked Dackery straight in the eye.

“Let’s take the fight to Gurth.”