“To be precise, neither claimh solais nor Excalibur are swords.” John-a-Doors said. “They roughly correspond to what you think of as swords, but--”

“Moving on, what exactly do the Swan Knights do?” Emma interrupted. “Are they a distinguished order?”

“Have you not heard of Lohengrin?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“Ah. So your ignorance is not merely limited to the Knights of the Round Table, but all knights.”

“He’s not a Knight of the Round Table? Oh, that’s slightly disappointing. I assumed that he was, given that his students gathered at Joyous Gard.”

“Lohengrin is not known to you, but rest assured he is known to all of Fairy.”

Emma shrugged. “Well, known to Fairy doesn’t mean known to Earth. I was looking forward to telling his parents that he was a student of a Knight of the Round Table. It’s such a pity that this Lohengrin isn’t!”

“It’s not a pity at all, not when compared to his honors.”

“I mean a pity for me. Can I at least say that the Swan Knights are held in an esteem comparable to that of the Knights of the Round Table?”

“You can say that.”

“So, what do they do? Slay dragons? Fight ogres? Rescue maidens?”

“They follow the example of Lohengrin and travel to worlds and realms that do not have native defenders of their own.”

“Ah! That sounds wonderfully chivalrous!” Emma said. “Duncan’s parents will be so happy! It warms my heart that the departed loved ones of all my clients have made their way in Fairy!”

“I’m sure it does.”

“I was afraid that at least one of them would have ended up a beggar.”

“There are no beggars in Fairy. There are servants, and slaves, but no beggars. Someone always has something to give, something someone always wants.”

“It seems to me that your people take excellent care of ghosts.”

“ We’ve always been the Middle Road, as Thomas the Rhymer described us. We have neither the delights of Heaven nor the punishments of Hell, nor do we judge ghosts on the actions of their living bodies. We simply grant the ability for men and women to be what they will be, without the constraints of physical reality.”

“Enough of Fairy for now.” Emma said. “As beautiful as it is, the more I look at it, the funnier I feel inside.”

“That is a natural response.”

Emma raised her hands. “Show me no more, for now. Return to being a floor!” she commanded.

“Must you do that every time?” John-a-Doors asked.

“Yes, every time from now one!”

The white castle of Joyous Gard rolled up with the blue waters of Vivian’s lake until it was a single point of color and light on the wooden floor and then it vanished like an eye winking shut.

Emma laughed. “Why! This isn’t so bad! In fact, it’s not bad at all!”

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“What isn’t bad?” John-a-Doors asked.

“This power.”

“You are quite unworthy of this honor, but then again, that’s the point.”

“It is, isn’t it? I finally figured out what this is all about. No offense to you, John-of-Doors, but you have a way of describing things in a very mysterious, uncomfortable sort of way. Why, I thought this power of mine was going to end up a trap or a burden or something that could hurt me. I know you didn’t mean to imply any of that, in fact, you told me outright that this power isn't a punishment. But the way you danced around with the words and the way you smirked, well, it all made me a little nervous.”

“That is normal. It is normal for humans to be nervous around my kind. Aren't birds naturally nervous in the presence of cats?”

“I’m not sure I would liken faeries to predators and humans to prey.”

“Perhaps you have a point. Prey can sometimes harm predators. God and mortal is probably closer to the truth than predator and prey, but we don’t like being called gods. We’re as different from them as you are to them.”

“And here you go again, talking in that mysterious, uncomfortable way of yours. But I’ve got this all figured out now. For a while, I couldn’t put my finger on why the Courts had chosen to give me this “consequence” as you call it. But now I got it. This is retraining. This is like when the baker finds his apprentice isn’t doing so good on one task and so takes him aside and sets him to work at another task. My skills were being, um, misapplied through my actions, and now the Courts have seen it fit to bolster my skills and place me on a different path. I understand.”

Emma chuckled to herself. “To think, Ernst, Morton, and Glass gave me such grief about my harmless little swindles. They acted as if you were going to flay me alive, but I knew you little people wouldn’t have taken it so badly. If anyone could appreciate a good swindle, it would be the little people, right? But in your case, John-a-Doors, it seems you’re one of the big people!”

Emma thought that was a very funny joke and had hoped to see a smile on John-a-Doors face. Finding none, she continued.

“So…is that it? Is there anything else, John-a-Doors?” Emma asked.

“Do you have any questions?” John-a-Doors asked.

“None that I think wouldn’t be rather silly.”

“Is there anything that you would like to say?”

“Oh!” Emma gasped.

Of course, she thought, of course there was something she had to say, she was dealing with protocol-minded people who lived and died by manners. Good thing John-a-Doors gave her the hint! The faeries that stood above him, they seemed quite tyrannical, but John seemed an alright sort to Emma.

Emma placed one hand solemnly over her heart. “John-a-Doors, please tell those that stand above you that though, like you said, this is not a gift, I appreciate and treasure what they have given me. I will always credit the Kindly Ones with my powers. I will always keep them in my heart. I will always be thankful.”

“Your appreciation is noted. Is there anything further you would like to say?”

Emma thought hard. She thought her little speech had nailed it, but apparently there was something more she was expected to say.

She thought very hard and then opened her mouth. “Um…just thank you. For believing in me, as I believed in them. Even before the Great Procession, I believed in you, you know. I believed in all of you.”

“Is that all that you would like to say?”

Emma again pressed herself to try and think of something. It seemed to her that John-a-Doors was trying to get her to say something, but she was missing the mark.

But she couldn’t think of anything.

Maybe he was just being thorough in his job? He did strike her as a consummate professional.

“I can’t think of anything else.” Emma said.

“Then I go my life, and you to yours.” John-a-Doors turned and walked to the green door. His long fingered hand reached for the golden door knob.

“Wait!” Emma suddenly cried.

John-a-Doors stopped, hand on the golden handle of his door.

“Yes?” he asked without turning around.

Emma thought for a moment. What made her stop him? She really couldn’t think of why she had done such a thing. Yet the words jumped from her mouth.

“Thank you.” she said, because she felt she had to say something.

John-a-Doors shrugged his tall shoulders. “That’s a queer thing to say.”

Emma couldn’t see his face but she was certain that he was making that sharp smirk of his.

He opened the door, walked into the strange fairy path where up was down and down was up, and closed the door behind him.

The moment door met frame, the door vanished, leaving the wall as blank and ordinary as it had always been.

Emma immediately felt ill at ease. With John-a-Doors present, her gift seemed completely known to her, completely under her control, but now that he was gone and there wasn’t a helpful elf to explain things to her, she felt nervous.

Did she even still have the power, she wondered?

She thought of Fairy and jerked her thoughts back to Earth the instant she felt her vision being pulled to that magical realm.

Yes, she still had the power.

But the feeling that there was a trap laid for her in all this nagged at the back of her mind.

But did she really have to worry? These faeries seemed like angels with the way they treated the three ghosts she witnessed. Perhaps all the stories of their pride and vengeful nature were simply a way to prevent people from taking advantage of their goodwill? There were stories of people being skinned alive because they herded cattle through a fairy fort, but weren’t there also stories of faeries sending small brownies to cobble shoes and hem dresses and milk cows while people slept? Perhaps the softer stories held the truth of the Kindly Ones and the darker stories exaggerations?

She supposed it was possible. In this age of ghosts and faeries, everything seemed possible.

Emma decided to let the matter rest and to no longer question her good luck, lest her luck turn.

She fixed herself some laudanum and brandy and went to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a very eventful day. She would call upon Alice’s parents in the morning and inform them not only was Alice doing well, but that they could see her. They would be so happy. They wouldn’t mind at all to fetch her better, sweeter tea.