“Where is the bean loaf?” She started rattling around under the sink.
The mewlers clattered boards and nails.
“Excuse me,” Camille said, over the noise.
“Yes?” Ickbee said. Her head was in the cupboard under the sink and when she lifted it, she struck the back of her head on the wood casing. “Oof!” She rubbed the sore spot. “That will be a nasty welt!”
“I’d like to know what happened.”
“Happened?”
“To the Ever Breath,” Camille said.
Ickbee collapsed onto the little bed for a moment. “I was robbed! It can happen to anyone. It wasn’t all my fault. I’m not the first keeper of the passage to have a problem. I mean, during the flood of 1812, there was that infant sea creature that somehow swam through and took up in some Fixed World sea where I hear he grew quite big and thrived. There have been a couple of blood-betakers, a stray wolven man, for which all of the Breath World is extremely apologetic.” She shook her head wearily.
“Do you mean that real magical creatures have gone through that passage from this world to the Fixed World?”
“Occasionally. Just a wee lapse at our end.”
“Um, by blood-betakers, do you mean something like vampires? And wolven men, like werewolves? And by sea creature, do you mean, like, the Loch Ness Monster?”
Ickbee chuckled. “I forget all of the strange terms you Breath Worlders have for everything. Loch Ness rings a distant bell—”
“Don’t you think you might want to keep a little closer watch on this passageway?” Camille asked, a bit irritated. “I mean, even stores at the mall have rent-a-cops!”
“Rent-a-cops? I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“Fake badge? Stun gun? I mean, you should have this place a little more protected, don’t you think?”
“In my defense, since I inherited it, only a very small number of creatures have slipped through. A few urfs who heard rumors of golden pots, a few fairies, one fire-breather—but he was on the small side, about the size of a boar, really, so that’s not all that terrible! I mean, I heard that he set fire accidentally to a … what do you call them? Mini-mart? In any case, it’s nothing compared to the cow-sized fire-breather who did all that damage to your grand city of Chicago!
That
was
not
on my watch! I’ll tell you that much.”
Camille was stunned. “You might want to look into, um, an alarm system, at the very least!”
“Easy come, easy go … but the enchantment was always in place to protect the Ever Breath. Always! This time someone broke the enchantment!” Ickbee spotted the bread basket. “Ah,” she said, “I know where I put the bean loaf!” Andshe jumped up and pulled out a fat roll of something that looked like meat loaf and began to cut it into wedges.
“I brought my lunch,” Camille said. She heard a strange buzz. Two fluttering things zipped around Ickbee’s head. Ickbee tried to wave them off, but they only flitted over to Camille, who smacked one midair and sent it soaring across the room.
“Small infestation this year,” Ickbee said, setting a plate of bean loaf in front of Camille. “Sorry about that!”
“A small infestation of what?”
“Locust fairies,” Ickbee said. “They’re a tedious nuisance, but nothing more. They keep the mewlers entertained.”
“Did I just hit a fairy?” Camille was horrified. Until recently she’d loved fairies! She looked down on the floor and saw a small creature—half fairy, half locust—stand up and dust off her thin wings.
“Locust
fairy,” Ickbee corrected. “A spiteful bunch. My little sister, Milta, always loved these things, carried them around in jars.”
“I’m so sorry,” Camille whispered to the locust fairy.
The locust fairy eyed her angrily, spat in her direction, and flew up into a cupboard.
“I kind of figured fairies would be nicer,” Camille said, hurt.
“Really? Do they have a good reputation in the Fixed World? Here, they’re petty creatures, always
The mewlers clattered boards and nails.
“Excuse me,” Camille said, over the noise.
“Yes?” Ickbee said. Her head was in the cupboard under the sink and when she lifted it, she struck the back of her head on the wood casing. “Oof!” She rubbed the sore spot. “That will be a nasty welt!”
“I’d like to know what happened.”
“Happened?”
“To the Ever Breath,” Camille said.
Ickbee collapsed onto the little bed for a moment. “I was robbed! It can happen to anyone. It wasn’t all my fault. I’m not the first keeper of the passage to have a problem. I mean, during the flood of 1812, there was that infant sea creature that somehow swam through and took up in some Fixed World sea where I hear he grew quite big and thrived. There have been a couple of blood-betakers, a stray wolven man, for which all of the Breath World is extremely apologetic.” She shook her head wearily.
“Do you mean that real magical creatures have gone through that passage from this world to the Fixed World?”
“Occasionally. Just a wee lapse at our end.”
“Um, by blood-betakers, do you mean something like vampires? And wolven men, like werewolves? And by sea creature, do you mean, like, the Loch Ness Monster?”
Ickbee chuckled. “I forget all of the strange terms you Breath Worlders have for everything. Loch Ness rings a distant bell—”
“Don’t you think you might want to keep a little closer watch on this passageway?” Camille asked, a bit irritated. “I mean, even stores at the mall have rent-a-cops!”
“Rent-a-cops? I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“Fake badge? Stun gun? I mean, you should have this place a little more protected, don’t you think?”
“In my defense, since I inherited it, only a very small number of creatures have slipped through. A few urfs who heard rumors of golden pots, a few fairies, one fire-breather—but he was on the small side, about the size of a boar, really, so that’s not all that terrible! I mean, I heard that he set fire accidentally to a … what do you call them? Mini-mart? In any case, it’s nothing compared to the cow-sized fire-breather who did all that damage to your grand city of Chicago!
That
was
not
on my watch! I’ll tell you that much.”
Camille was stunned. “You might want to look into, um, an alarm system, at the very least!”
“Easy come, easy go … but the enchantment was always in place to protect the Ever Breath. Always! This time someone broke the enchantment!” Ickbee spotted the bread basket. “Ah,” she said, “I know where I put the bean loaf!” Andshe jumped up and pulled out a fat roll of something that looked like meat loaf and began to cut it into wedges.
“I brought my lunch,” Camille said. She heard a strange buzz. Two fluttering things zipped around Ickbee’s head. Ickbee tried to wave them off, but they only flitted over to Camille, who smacked one midair and sent it soaring across the room.
“Small infestation this year,” Ickbee said, setting a plate of bean loaf in front of Camille. “Sorry about that!”
“A small infestation of what?”
“Locust fairies,” Ickbee said. “They’re a tedious nuisance, but nothing more. They keep the mewlers entertained.”
“Did I just hit a fairy?” Camille was horrified. Until recently she’d loved fairies! She looked down on the floor and saw a small creature—half fairy, half locust—stand up and dust off her thin wings.
“Locust
fairy,” Ickbee corrected. “A spiteful bunch. My little sister, Milta, always loved these things, carried them around in jars.”
“I’m so sorry,” Camille whispered to the locust fairy.
The locust fairy eyed her angrily, spat in her direction, and flew up into a cupboard.
“I kind of figured fairies would be nicer,” Camille said, hurt.
“Really? Do they have a good reputation in the Fixed World? Here, they’re petty creatures, always
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