Twig was delighted to see the human nation’s most glittery elite, but disappointed to learn that he would only see them from a distance. Razorscale would be doing the invisibility thing again. How boring. The fact that this was the most sensible approach hardly mattered.

“I will be able to recognize the magical signature of the mage who stole my shape,” the dragon said as they stood outside the fence. “Possibly also the others involved in the spell, but definitely that one. Pixie dust, please.” He held out a hand for Beak’s bag.

She gave it to him, and didn’t complain when he used some, then kept it.

“Wait for me there,” Razorscale commanded, pointing at a grassy area with picnic tables and fancy shrubbery. “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to stray, but I will anyway. Be there when I return. It’s possible that all five of our enemies are here, and we can move ahead with the counterspell. We’ll have to be fast.”

Twig nodded, and so did the others. Silver was playing the part of the tame pet, curled up on the flying carpet next to Windmane, and only blinked. Razorscale gave everyone his signature stern look, then walked behind a potted plant and disappeared.

“All right,” Beak sighed, “Let’s go find somewhere to sit.” She crossed the street as the sun dipped below the rooftops and mage-lights began to flick on.

“Aw, can’t we watch from here just a little?” Twig asked. “Look at how fancy some of these people are!” The entrance to the building made of soaring spires was far from the fence, but even with this much open space between them, Twig could see a beautiful array of colors and frills, trailing skirts and brocade coats with magically-enhanced lights around everyone.

Windmane said in a loud whisper, “The guards won’t like it.” She jerked an elbow sideways.

Twig looked in that direction to see a pair of humans in shiny armor that he hadn’t noticed before. They stood at attention, staring straight forward, but for all Twig knew, their helmets were enchanted with circular vision.

“C’mon, you can see the sparkles from over there,” Stomp said.

“Aw,” Twig repeated, allowing himself to be led away from the fence. “But did you see the dark eyeshields some of them are wearing? What’s that about?”

“Beats me,” the minotaur admitted.

Silver stuck their head over the edge of the carpet. “Those are filters for ambient magical energy,” the dragon murmured. “Some mages are overly sensitive, and need them to prevent headaches. Given the number I see over there, it has clearly become a status symbol. I doubt anyone in that crowd is so talented.”

“Oh,” Twig said. He looked back as they left the road for the grass. There were a scattered handful of non-humans, and none of them wore the things. Then a new delegation appeared, and Twig stopped in his tracks. He clambered onto a picnic table to see better. “Look, unicorns!”

“Get down,” Beak hissed at him.

“They have pixie attendants!” Twig exclaimed as he recognized the flight patterns of the glowing shapes that danced around the unicorns.

“No one cares,” Beak said. “Get down.”

Stomp stepped onto the bench and lifted Twig by the armpits, dragging him groundward. “No drawing attention,” she reminded him as she bumped his awkward human shoes against the table.

“But I could talk to them!” Twig insisted. “See if they know anything!”

“No,” the pair chorused.

“They’re too far away,” Beak said. “And they have no reason to tell you anything. You’re a human, remember?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Stomp set the not-pixie back on his feet. He crossed his arms and sniffed. “Am not.”

“Just pick a seat, all right? Lie on the ground if you want to. Stare at a plant.” Beak waved at a cluster of flowering bushes near the tables. “See how many weird bugs you can find at this time of night.”

She was probably expecting Twig to pout some more, but she underestimated the pixie’s curiosity when it came to new things.

“Ooh, do you think the bugs here glow?” Twig asked.

“Go find out. Just stay close.”

Twig did. He absently registered the sound of the others getting settled at a table with the carpet rolled up and tucked away. That was neither here nor there. The important thing was the bugs. What kind of creatures lived in this well-tended human land, where magic was hoarded by the rich? Did the gardeners get any? The soil clearly wouldn’t be growing any skyfruit, but what did it smell like?

Twig spent a happy few minutes puttering away among the bushes, inspecting dirt and branches and whatever scant insect life he could find. Everything turned out to be disappointingly mundane, but it was still an interesting search.

He finally surfaced a few bushes away, turning in place to get his bearings. He spotted the table as a cluster of pixies flew overhead, moving away from the party.

Twig stumbled out of the bush and flagged them down. “Hey! Hey pixies!”

They paused mid-flight.

Beak and Stomp were already fighting their way free of the picnic table seats.

“It’s okay; I’m a pixie too!” Twig whisper-shouted. “Do you know where to find the human magicians who are stealing people’s shapes?”

The pixies didn’t come closer, but they did draw together in discussion. Twig hoped they would have good information.

Beak reached him first. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed, attempting to clamp a hand over his mouth. She was still used to harpy wrist positioning, and it took a moment to stop him from talking.

“Five of them — mph!”

Stomp caught up and helped Beak tow him back toward the table. “Don’t mind him,” she said to the pixies. “He’s had his horns knocked loose. I mean, uh…” She searched for an appropriately human turn of phrase while Twig struggled indignantly. “His head’s dented. Sorry to bother you.”

The pixies held their position in the sky long enough to see the pair strong-arm Twig into sitting at the table with Windmane, then they flitted off into the sky. Most went in the direction they’d originally been heading. Some went back towards the party. Very quickly.

Twig imagined those ones would be enlisting the help of the unicorns inside. What a worthy adventure this would be for them! Helping strangers who had been wronged by mysterious villains!

He opened his mouth to say so, but the expression on Beak’s face made him pause. That was a death glare worthy of Razorscale. Twig slowly closed his mouth again.

I don’t think she even saw which way they went, he thought. Guess I’ll get to be smug when they show up and surprise her.

He was half right.

Silver was the first to notice, and the young dragon’s scrambling under the table alerted Twig that something was happening. He realized at the same time as the others, but his exclamation was the only cheerful one.

“The unicorns are coming!” he said as he stood.

The pair of elegant creatures that glided across the road were luminous in every sense of the word. Glowing with silver magic, hooves dipped in gold, manes enchanted into shimmering rainbows, horns glittering with visible static from the power they held. A dozen pixies attended each, awaiting their every whim: comb a mane, open a door, or carry a message.

One was giving directions now, fluttering close to the unicorn on the left. Twig squinted his human eyes against all the glowing things to make out a tiny arm pointing towards him.

“Hello!” Twig said, while Beak and Stomp made worried noises and Windmane tried to stand up with them. They didn’t get farther than that. A flash of light from the unicorn’s horn was brighter than everything else. Twig blinked and shielded his eyes. It didn’t help. And everything was quieter now; what was that about?

Oh, the ground was farther away suddenly. He was being carried.

So were the others; if Twig turned his head as far as it would go, he could see the other three not-humans behind him. Two were glaring at him. Windmane just looked panicky. No sign of Silver.

“I’m sure they’re going to help us!” Twig said.

“Are you,” Beak said flatly. “How great for you.”

Twig gave up and turned to see where they were going. His eyes were adjusting to all the light. Outside the glow, streetlights passed and pixies flew. After a little more twisting in place, Twig got a look at the pair of unicorns strolling sedately along under the ball of magic. They looked nearly identical in their regal posture and colorful presentation. The only difference he could make out was the teeth of the one in charge of the spell: they were visibly long and sharp.

A phrase popped into Twig’s head, overheard years ago from a fellow pixie who had spent time working with such illustrious magic-users as this. The conversation had been about the many ways of telling a magician’s status. Unicorns, the other pixie had said, were known to wear toothcaps of precious stones. The teeth that Twig saw now looked just like the ones he’d heard described.

“Diamond-capped fangs fit to bite a god.”

That probably wasn’t a bad sign, right?