Chapter 26

The Watery Tart

"So how exactly do we organize a fairy peasant revolution?" asked Joan, the next day, "and how do we come out of it with oodles of XP and loot?"

The party was gathered at a tavern across the way named The Watery Tart. It had a nice view of a koi pond which was currently frozen solid. In the summer it was probably a pleasant view but currently, it was rather bleak. Snow was falling softly, and the clouds were suffocating and dense. Inside, however, the tavern was warm and welcoming. The daily special was clam chowder soup, as well as various fairy peculiarities like roasted horse chestnuts and drops of honeydew. Dozens of fairies were packed into the tavern, most of them shivering as they came in from the cold in their flower-themed outfits.

A roaring fire blazed in the open hearth, and Fred and co were gathered in front of it.

"I have a cunning plan," said Fred. He stood up, slapping his hands on the table in front of him. The fairies all gazed up at him, adoringly. Little winged ones zipped here and there, while the larger ones loomed at the back, gazing over the heads and wings of the others. The room smelt like a garden. A slightly soggy garden, which wasn't surprising since most of the fairies seemed to have a nature aspect.

"What kind of a plan?" rumbled a tall pine-fairy, who was standing in a corner and dripping sap on the floorboards.

"A cunning one!" Fred repeated. "The Queen of the Fairies is holding a ball two nights from now! It would be the perfect place to strike." Everyone waited.

"Honestly," said Joan. "I've heard better. Are you sure the fairy tea didn't addle your brain?"

"I am wounded to the quick," said Fred. "My ego will never recover. My heart is–"

"Why," said Alice, "is the queen holding a ball in the middle of a revolution?"

"She doesn't know about the revolution," explained Mustardseed. The petite yellow-clad fairy fluttered her wings anxiously. "It hasn't happened yet. She's looking for a husband."

"Ew," said Alice.

"Because Fred killed her last one," piped up Moth. He was squeezed as close to the fire as he could get without burning himself.

"Well that sounds pretty serious," said Epic. "She must be looking for you?"

"Oh yes," said Fred. The fairies oohed and ahhed. "So far I've just caused a bit of a rumpus. You know, attacking the palace guard, stealing the tax collectors blind. Killing the king. Slapping the elves about a bit. That sort of thing."

"Attempted regicide via teaspoon," said Hugo.

"I would have got her too," said Fred modestly, "if there hadn't been so many damned elven warriors."

"So we are rich?" said Alice. "If you have been robbing tax collectors?"

"We should go shopping," said Hugo, "for gear."

"Yes," said Fred, his eyes brightening. "Yes, we should. I bet there are loads of good shops here."

"Focus," said Joan. "Revolution first, then shopping."

"Fine."

"So the plan so far... attend the ball and attack the queen?"

"Yes, it needs refining a little, I suppose."

"And how does your err... Scarlet Flower costume come into it?" Everyone looked at Fred, resplendent in red.

"Scarlet Pimpernel," muttered Moth, aghast.

"Merely a disguise," said Fred, patting his hose-covered thighs. A couple of little red flowers dropped from his sleeves. "Trying to blend in you know, look like one of the fae folk. After I killed the king things got a bit shirty for a while. There aren't many humans in this city. That reminds me, we should probably disguise the lot of you."

"So nothing to do with The Scarlet Pimpernel, from Baroness Orczy's novels?" said Epic. "Fictional hero of the French Revolution? Nothing to do with that?" Fred's eyes glazed over for a moment.

"Absolutely not," he said. "Never heard of the chap! I don't read as a rule. Too busy! I just look good in red." He crossed one muscular stockinged leg over the other and grinned at her. "Fetch me my guillotine, Robinia!"

A dainty fairy no taller than a handspan zipped over.

"Yes, my lord?" she asked worriedly. "At once! Just...um... what's a guillotine?"

"Never mind, sorry Robinia. Maybe just a cup of tea–"

"No!" chorused most of the tavern. Fred sagged.

("Sorry," said Moth, eyes wide, "did she say an orc wrote the book?")

"Details, man. How exactly do you expect us to get in the palace?" asked Cob from his chair in the corner. The elderly spider seemed to be enjoying himself, tucked under a great woollen pile of tartan blankets. "If we could just fight our way in we would have done it before."

"We need intel," said Fred. "Inside information." The crowd murmured as if these were the wisest words they had ever heard uttered. "Anyone dating someone who works in the castle? Anyone work in the castle?"

The assembled crowd of fairies all looked at each other. "Is that a no?" said Fred, peering around. "Nobody? What about you in the chef's hat and the overalls that are embroidered with 'palace kitchen'?"

"Um..." a plump fairy snatched his hat off his head and twisted it nervously between his hands. "I'm a baker at the palace, yes."

"How about you bake us a really big cake," said Mustardseed. She bounced up and down with enthusiasm. "And we hide inside! And then you wheel us into the great hall, to be served to the queen! And then at the signal we all pop out and stab her!"

"The old 'Trojan Cake idea'," said Fred. "Brilliant, brilliant."

Mustardseed beamed.

"But I don't think this poor gentlefae could bake a cake big enough to fit all of us, not with all the sugar in Macabre let alone the Fairy Kingdom."

Mustardseed's face fell.

"I might have a solution," said Hugo. Everyone turned to look at him. "On the intel at least! Last night I met the perfect spy. Someone no one will suspect. She's not the er... most mobile. But with our friend the baker–" he turned to look at the baker.

"Nobs," he said, twisting his hat round and round. "My name is Nobs."

"With the help of our friend Nobs here, I think she can gather all the information we need to get the scoop on the Queen."

"Go on then," said Fred, "who is this person?"

Hugo turned his back and rooted in his backpack. Everyone craned in to look.

"This is er (What's your name again? What do you mean you don't have a name? Pick one! Names are an important part of self-identity! Oh! Um. Don't you think that a bit mu– Oh, alright, alright! What? Yes, yes, it's lovely. Okay. Okay!)" Hugo swung around beaming. In his hands, he held a brass door knocker. It smiled shyly up at them all.

"This," he said dramatically, "is Jessamy Odinsdottir, Summoner of Raven's! Most recently of Number 3 Cherrytree Lane." The door knocker coughed. "Sorry! What? Oh! Jessamy Jessamysdottir, Summoner of Raven's, Keeper of Doors and Gnasher of fingers! Is her full title."

"Pleasffte to meet you! Pfft!" piped Jessamy Jessamysdottir, Summoner of Raven's, Keeper of Doors and Gnasher of fingers, her cheeks round and shining. "At your service!"

The party and all the fairies murmured something back.

"You weren't kidding about the mobility issues," said Alice, critically.

"Hello, door– I mean Jessamy," said Fred. "We are already acquainted, I believe?"

"Yeff, Fred," the little door knocker said happily.

"Did you get tired of life on the door?"

"Yeff. I would like to haffe some adventuffes pleaffe."

"We chatted last night after you all went to bed," said Hugo. "Jessamy is alright." The brass of the door knocker's cheeks flushed a rosy red. "She used to be a player, you know?"

"A player?" said Joan. "Interesting. You didn't make it?"

Jessamy shook her head, the brass ring clanking.

"How did Hugo get you off the door?" asked Epic, curiously.

"Screwdriver," said Hugo. "Wasn't hard. It was Jessamy's idea," he said quickly before Alice could give him side-eye.

"I assume the idea is to leave you in a discreet area where you can observe?" said Joan, tapping her fingers on the table, as she viewed the door knocker speculatively. "And then you would tell Nob?"

"I can send meffages myselff," said Jessamy the newly named door knocker.

"Um –sorry? Meffages?"

"Meffages!" said Jessamy. "I can send you a raven wiff a note."

"Ohhh," said Fred. "Messages. Sorry. That does have potential. So Nob smuggles you into the castle, and put her...say in the throne room, or wherever the queen spends most of her time? Can you do that, Nob?"

"Yes, milord," Nob bowed, a bit pink. "That should be easy enough."

"Prop me up onf the mantelpiefe," said Jessamy. "I haffe very good hearing."

"Excellent!" said Joan. "Now we are getting there."

"Welcome to the team! Jessamy! Nob!" Fred toasted them. "Okay, that's a start. Phase Two: while Jessamy is gathering intelligence for us we need to be sourcing iron. There are a lot of elves and iron is the only real advantage we can have."

"The Queen doesn't allow iron," quavered Mustardseed. The fairies were all looking uneasy.

"It hurts us too," said Moth. They all stared at Fred's rapier that was lying casually on the table in front of him.

"Only if you touch it," said Fred. "If you are wearing gloves and are careful, it should be fine."

"Where did you get the rapier?" asked Joan. "If there is no iron in the kingdom?"

"Cob has a contact," said Fred.

Everyone swivelled to look at the dour old spider in his wheelchair. He waved a hairy forearm at them, his mandibles clicking.

"Are ye all willing to die for this?" he said, his voice soft and menacing. Moth gulped.

"We are!" yelled Jessamy.

("How would you even die?" asked Alice. "I dunno," said Jessamy. "Melted in a furnace maybe.")

"What about the rest of ye?" roared Cob, clutching the arms of his chair. The anxious faces of the fairies stared back at him, reflected like raindrops in the multi-facets of his eyes. "I don't want to waste secrets on cowards! This is our chance! Our chance to strike at the heart of those void-hearted monsters who call themselves our rulers! Anyone who isn't prepared to die now is the time to leave." Cob glared around at the tavern. A coal dropped in the hearth. Nobody moved. Cob settled back in his tartan blankets.

"Good," he said. "Now. I know a place where we can get our hands on plenty of cold iron if any of you are brave enough to go."

"Get on with it," said Alice. "We are obviously going." Cob fixed her with all the menace a man-sized arachnid seated in a cosy chair could muster.

"Far to the north," he whispered, "deep in the mountain, hidden far beneath the earth there is a secret city. Towering pillars hold aloft the crushing weight of aeons! Vaulted ceilings and bridges sweep over deep chasms, where rushing rivers plunge into the Evernight, descending to the very centre of the earth! There you will find caverns of glittering gems, and mines that reach far lower than any man has ever dared venture! It is a city carved from stone! It lies at the root of the world. The denizens of this city are short and fierce. They toil in the dark but when they speak metal listens! The queen knows not of their existence, or rather she believes them to be the stuff of legend."

"Dwarves," said Hugo, "my money is on dwarves."

Cob coughed and raised his voice. "My ancestors still live in the still night of those mountains. It is a dangerous place! Only the brave of heart can survive the journey."

"Ooooooooh," chorused the listening fairies.

Cob turned his pitch-black eyes to Hugo. "And yes they are dwarves, alright," he said sounding irritated.

"How original," said Alice.

"Hush," said Fred, his eyes bright. "So how do we find these dwarves? Will they trade with us?"

"They should," said Cob. "I don't see why not." He handed over a map. "Follow this," he said. "This should lead you to the secret city of the dwarves." Then he handed Fred a jar of jam, with a little red, checked flannel lid. "And please take this jar of preserves to my Aunt Mavis who lives in the tunnel just off the entrance to the city. Tell her it's from her nephew Cob, and love and kisses to my old mum."

[ding! New Quest! Discover the Dwarven City!]

[ding! New Quest! Trade with the dwarves for iron!]

[ding! New Quest! Deliver the jam to Aunt Mavis!]