find
these missing instruments, Buttercake. Have a sniff.”
His calloused hand seized Aoide’s and put it
close to the unicorn’s mouth. Buttercake sniffed Aoide’s palm, then
swished her pink tail.
“What kind of instruments am I looking for,
exactly?” Hoke asked.
“I play a lute,” Aoide said. “Rhodia has a
silver harp. And there’s pan pipes and a drum. But the instruments
can change depending on who plays them. If a fairy blew on Neus’
pan pipes, they might turn into a flute.”
“So what do they look like now?” Hoke
asked.
“It depends who took them,” Aoide said.
“You don’t have any idea who it was?” Hoke
asked.
“Nor do we know their intentions,” Icarus
said. “The Queen’s seer tells us they have left the realm of
Faerie. These instruments could cause incredible destruction in the
human world. In the hands of anyone not properly trained by the
Musicians’ Guild…”
“It could be a nightmare,” Aoide said.
“The man-world.” Hoke lifted his hat and
scratched around in his stringy, dirty hair. “Haven’t been there in
a century or ten. So, we don’t know what the things look like or
who has ‘em or why. They’ll take some time to track down.
Buttercake’s my best sniffer, though. Next fairy!”
Aoide backed off and let Buttercake sniff
Rhodia’s hand. Rhodia giggled and tried to pet the unicorn, but the
little creature skittered back out of reach.
“Hands off my cornhorse!” Hoke barked. “And
where’s the scents for the other two instruments?”
“Here.” Aoide opened another pouch. It
contained a swatch of Skezg’s filthy shirt, to give the unicorn the
ogre’s smell. It also had a locket of Neus’ white fur, since he
didn’t wear clothes. The faun let the shaggy goat fur on his hips
and legs serve as trousers. He didn’t even wear shoes, because the
bottoms of his stubby feet and toes were coated with hard hoof.
Buttercake sniffed inside the pouch for a
couple of minutes. Then she stuck out her tongue and backed
away.
“What about the other unicorns?” Icarus
asked. Cinnamon and Berrymuffin had wandered away a little bit, to
slurp from a pool of sugar water.
“If you think I’m taking more than one
unicorn up to man-world, then you’re madder than Queen Mab.”
“I warned you!” Icarus reached for his sword,
but Aoide grabbed his arm and shushed him.
“It’s just a figure of speech,” Hoke said. He
snorted, then spat a ball of bright orange elf-snot into a puddle
near Icarus’s boot.
Icarus opened his mouth. Aoide was pretty
sure that whatever he said next would lead to an argument or a
fight, so she cut him off.
“Is that all you need to begin your search?”
Aoide asked Hoke.
“Sounds like that’s all you have,” Hoke said.
“Do we at least know through which doorway the thief entered the
man-world? Was it Glastonbury Door?”
“We don’t know,” Aoide said.
Hoke shook his head and lowered the brim of
his hat. He resumed sitting under the shade of the leafy sugar cane
by his hut. Buttercake nibbled some flowering weeds beside him.
“When do you intend to begin searching?”
Icarus asked.
“After we’ve had time to rest.” Hoke pulled
the hat down over his eyes. “Buttercake’s a delicate one. Needs her
beauty sleep.”
“This is urgent!” Icarus snarled.
“Then I’d be better get plenty of sleep,”
Hoke said. “Don’t want me slipping up.”
“He said he’ll do it, Icarus,” Aoide
said.
“He’d better. Or we’ll show him that Her
Majesty Queen Mab does, indeed, rule the swamplands!” Icarus
stepped away, out through the break in the wall of cane.
“What a sourdrop,” Hoke said.
“He’s kind of cranky,” Aoide said. “We really
do appreciate your help. We really, really need our instruments
back. Sorry about Mister Whineyboots out there.”
“If they can be found, Buttercake will find
them,” Hoke said from under his hat. Buttercake looked up and
blinked at her name, then resumed
these missing instruments, Buttercake. Have a sniff.”
His calloused hand seized Aoide’s and put it
close to the unicorn’s mouth. Buttercake sniffed Aoide’s palm, then
swished her pink tail.
“What kind of instruments am I looking for,
exactly?” Hoke asked.
“I play a lute,” Aoide said. “Rhodia has a
silver harp. And there’s pan pipes and a drum. But the instruments
can change depending on who plays them. If a fairy blew on Neus’
pan pipes, they might turn into a flute.”
“So what do they look like now?” Hoke
asked.
“It depends who took them,” Aoide said.
“You don’t have any idea who it was?” Hoke
asked.
“Nor do we know their intentions,” Icarus
said. “The Queen’s seer tells us they have left the realm of
Faerie. These instruments could cause incredible destruction in the
human world. In the hands of anyone not properly trained by the
Musicians’ Guild…”
“It could be a nightmare,” Aoide said.
“The man-world.” Hoke lifted his hat and
scratched around in his stringy, dirty hair. “Haven’t been there in
a century or ten. So, we don’t know what the things look like or
who has ‘em or why. They’ll take some time to track down.
Buttercake’s my best sniffer, though. Next fairy!”
Aoide backed off and let Buttercake sniff
Rhodia’s hand. Rhodia giggled and tried to pet the unicorn, but the
little creature skittered back out of reach.
“Hands off my cornhorse!” Hoke barked. “And
where’s the scents for the other two instruments?”
“Here.” Aoide opened another pouch. It
contained a swatch of Skezg’s filthy shirt, to give the unicorn the
ogre’s smell. It also had a locket of Neus’ white fur, since he
didn’t wear clothes. The faun let the shaggy goat fur on his hips
and legs serve as trousers. He didn’t even wear shoes, because the
bottoms of his stubby feet and toes were coated with hard hoof.
Buttercake sniffed inside the pouch for a
couple of minutes. Then she stuck out her tongue and backed
away.
“What about the other unicorns?” Icarus
asked. Cinnamon and Berrymuffin had wandered away a little bit, to
slurp from a pool of sugar water.
“If you think I’m taking more than one
unicorn up to man-world, then you’re madder than Queen Mab.”
“I warned you!” Icarus reached for his sword,
but Aoide grabbed his arm and shushed him.
“It’s just a figure of speech,” Hoke said. He
snorted, then spat a ball of bright orange elf-snot into a puddle
near Icarus’s boot.
Icarus opened his mouth. Aoide was pretty
sure that whatever he said next would lead to an argument or a
fight, so she cut him off.
“Is that all you need to begin your search?”
Aoide asked Hoke.
“Sounds like that’s all you have,” Hoke said.
“Do we at least know through which doorway the thief entered the
man-world? Was it Glastonbury Door?”
“We don’t know,” Aoide said.
Hoke shook his head and lowered the brim of
his hat. He resumed sitting under the shade of the leafy sugar cane
by his hut. Buttercake nibbled some flowering weeds beside him.
“When do you intend to begin searching?”
Icarus asked.
“After we’ve had time to rest.” Hoke pulled
the hat down over his eyes. “Buttercake’s a delicate one. Needs her
beauty sleep.”
“This is urgent!” Icarus snarled.
“Then I’d be better get plenty of sleep,”
Hoke said. “Don’t want me slipping up.”
“He said he’ll do it, Icarus,” Aoide
said.
“He’d better. Or we’ll show him that Her
Majesty Queen Mab does, indeed, rule the swamplands!” Icarus
stepped away, out through the break in the wall of cane.
“What a sourdrop,” Hoke said.
“He’s kind of cranky,” Aoide said. “We really
do appreciate your help. We really, really need our instruments
back. Sorry about Mister Whineyboots out there.”
“If they can be found, Buttercake will find
them,” Hoke said from under his hat. Buttercake looked up and
blinked at her name, then resumed
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