After Fats and Mary left, Mr. Hebert asked me, “What happened? I found your penny whistle. You were still alive but gone. So I left your penny whistle where I used to put your money.”
I’d arranged the outside lights to give me good shadows a couple of years back, so I shadow stepped out and got my flute. It was in a sealed plastic bag with a small bag of desiccant and a note that said, “If I offended you, let me know. I’ll make it up to you.”
I returned to the house, sat on my crate, and played to let Mr. Hebert know I was in the music room. He came in and sat down. I got up and turned on the music we played when we wanted to talk in private. He carried his cell phone out of the room and came back.
I told him my story then asked, “Were you really going to spend millions to save me? How did you know I was still alive?”
He said, “I have the same answer for both questions. But it starts with a question. Where are you? I mean, what spot do you exist in, where do you think?”
I tapped on my crate and played a rhythm ending with three loud thumps. “Sometimes I figure it’s my hands but not really. It seems like they play the music. I feel it in my chest with my eyes closed, but with my eyes open, my mind’s here.” I pointed at my head.
He nodded. “I am a Titan. Titans can’t just point to each other and say, ‘He is just like me.’ Those of us who still exist are living fossils and experiments that survived. My father was made of music and rhythm.”
Mr. Hebert got up and went to the computer and changed the music to Mendelssohn's Die Hibreden. “This isn’t it, but it’s the closest example of the sort of music that was my father. In times before life was much more than floating foam, crystals formed and resonated, and that was the start of the music. The music shaped the crystals, and the crystals spread and the music got more complex.
“My father feared the limits any musician feared as soon as the music had grown to where it knew it was music and became a musician as well. So crystals hummed and explored the limits of music, and eventually the music made silence. In that silence was resonance and rhythm, but it moved at greater speeds than sound and took on properties and played on things finer or at least smaller than the crystals that were the instrument that my father played and was played on.
“I was born out of that musical silence. So I can’t point to where I am. I can just hear my thoughts, really. The ideas come from resonances resolved that are out of reach. Yet I can tell where the quiet music comes from. This body you see before you might take another hundred years to grow again if it were destroyed, but if this body were gone, I wouldn’t be. I don’t think I have a soul or a spirit.
“I have resonance and music. So when I saw you a few years back, it was a special moment, one that only happens every fifty years or so. Part of me found a new instrument to play its silent tune on. I’m certain this will make no sense to you, but when I saw you, I knew that you were part of me. I also knew that you didn’t belong here. I knew that you belonged in Fairy. Don’t take that wrong. I don’t mean dead, I mean in a Fairyland.”
I nodded. “I understand but don’t take this wrong, either. Fairylands are full of invisible people who think killing, kidnapping, and enslaving is all part of a day’s work. I’m a Goblin and have a totally different outlook on life. We’re all about adopting sad children and freedom. Goblins who kill end up dead quick ‘cause death is, to us, the opposite of freedom.”
Mr. Hebert said, “I see Fairies. One reason a Fairy might be invisible is the lie. Illusions, or so I’m told, fool the eye. There are two types of illusions, as far as I know. I can see illusions that bend light, but I can’t see the ones that are entirely lies. The other reason a Fairy might be invisible is that they might be part lie. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist, it just means their material form’s fake.” He shrugged. “So I guess there are three reasons why a Fairy might be invisible.”
Someone cleared their throat loudly. A small man sat on one of the speakers that hung up high on the wall. “Thou hast gotten it right on three parts, but the fourth would be camouflage and how some manage to hide from those who spend their lives hidden.”
He smiled a menacing sort of smile. “Don’t be alarmed. Queen Rummage’s a bit scared thou might be a bit angry about things, what with thy lingering illness, wasting away, and horrible, painful death. So she gathered up a few wishes to try and appease thee before thou becamest a vengeful spirit with a belt buckle of iron, the will to kill, and the ability to pass unseen amongst them.”
Mr Hebert asked, “Thou dost grant wishes?”
The man nodded. “Yes, but not entirely. I’m a wish broker. The intent is to protect Rummage. But I was hired to assure satisfaction. So while I do grant wishes if they’re simple things, what I really do is orchestrate lasting satisfaction. Within this envelope, I’ve been directed to not further empower the grantee, so for example, the simple request of having the sight isn’t one that I’ll be facilitating.
“But I can advise and shape the wishing and maximize the wish, and my client’s the grantee and not the granter. So if thy dream was to learn the violin for example, I’d not advise a wish for the skill to play the violin. That would be one wish, and thou might regret it. Wishing for violin mastery would be better. Thou wouldst get auxiliary gifting, things like relative pitch, much better than perfect pitch in my opinion, but that could be argued. Thou wouldst get playing by ear, sight reading, some basic music theory, and a few nice pieces of music.
“Better than that would be a wish to be a successful violinist. Thou might not end up as talented, but thou would be good, popular, and have money. Better still would be to be a successful concert master. Thou might not have as much money, but the skills would have to be top notch. Some might want to be a composer, that might give thee more instruments and more music theory, but sadly asking to be a great composer would be pushing it. We can’t gift real creativity yet.
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“If thou doest not have the brain for composition though, being a successful director might do. Thou couldst still learn a range of instruments, but thou might get by with a simpler mind. A great director takes a bit more intelligence, and we can’t really gift that directly. We might give gifts to help thee grow in thy desired direction though, but really we’re looking to help thee feel satisfied as thou make the tragic transition to a more glorious afterlife.
“Sad about the gossamer poisoning, really. I died that way, and ‘tis a horrible way to go. Thou might consider an assisted suicide. We could throw that in as an extra.”
I asked, “What about being a physicist?”
Mr. Hebert put his hand on mine. “If you maintain interest, over time I can teach you more about material physics, sound, and light than anyone else is likely to know. I have my father’s memories. I could and have recreated myself using those skills.”
The Fairy on the speaker said, “Yes, and I’m not sure that physicists are always happy, so I would advise against that as well. I mean, thou wouldst probably be happier than a physician, psychologist, or comedian, but what we want is either true satisfaction or at least a good enough illusion of satisfaction to keep thee thinking thou art content for the long ages ahead.
“A lot of musicians are miserable, but at least they enjoy themselves apart from when they’re asked to play the same wretched song over and over ‘til it drives them bonkers to even hear a short passage from it.”
Mr. Hebert asked, “Wert thou a musician?”
The Fairy nodded.
Mr. Hebert said, “While we discuss this, I have some leftover bread pudding. Would anyone like some? I can pour some rum sauce on it.”
The Fairy jumped off the speaker and smiled up at Mr. Hebert. “Really?”
Mr. Hebert said, “I’m pretty sure I can feed thee without the Deaths showing up.”
The Fairy put his finger to the side of his nose and started walking toward the kitchen. “I’m called Count Juniper by some, ‘cause of my blue-green suit. But I think the color suits me, and while it’s meant as an insult, I rather like the title.”
We sat at the table. I was stuffed from supper, but Mr. Hebert ate with Count Juniper and poured him a large glass of milk to go with it.
I asked, “Rummage said I was owed some stones. What was that about?”
Count Juniper carefully covered his mouth and finished chewing. “Rummage got nine stone three pound and four ounces from the mass of the Fairies that died contacting the iron breastplate as they entered her domain. That means a bit over 129 pounds of mass that she could turn into gold, gumdrops, or fancy hats. Thy share of the massacre amounted to an eighth of that, but she decided that she should put her three-fourths into appeasing thee, and the guard who stabbed thee put in his sixteenth share. That would be 1,938.75 ounces of Fairyland fee. A bit over a hundred and twenty-one pounds. Throw in that she wanted to gift thee with a pair of gifts, and she’s willing to back up that with a few more, thou hast a pretty good appeasement coming. She now has a justified claim to a second Fairyland since they tried to invade hers, so she makes out pretty well even after all the expenses of mollifying thee. I think thy satisfaction, apart from the inconvenient and horribly painful death, can be achieved easily. If thou want to reduce it to numbers, like mortals tend to always try to do, thou canst probably eke out twenty or so gifts as long as they are not particularly rare or hard to track down.”
Mr. Hebert asked, “What about the ability to convert Fairy fee to objects? How rare is that gift?”
The small man said, “It would be a total waste. I can’t advise such a gamble. I’d be happy to gift it, but only the noble folk among the noble folk can use the power. It takes about five other gifts, and none of them are usable by the vast majority. Phil would be wasting a quarter of his potential for a long bet on being a Fairy noble. Unless thou art equating power with happiness, and that’s a certain doom of joy, being a Fairy noble is hardly the way to pursue happiness even if thou art one of the few that can pull it off.”
Mr. Hebert gave me a serious look. “Probably a waste, but let’s gamble with a quarter of it then. Phil, ask for the best arrangement of gifts in order to convert Fairy fee to objects in a satisfactory way.”
Count Juniper frowned. “That would take quite a few of the potential gifts. Some might bring joy, but thou wouldst need to practice them, and we might have to visit several times before all the gifts settled. If we give thee a week or so before thou doest find it hard to spend long out of bed and then a couple of months before the wracking pains and desperate longing for Fairy food sets in, thou wouldst have to be of Fairy king caliber to focus enough to properly back up the gifting with practice. Sculpting takes practice, art takes practice, and the visualizations of even the most basic chemistry takes long rumination to create useful and artistic objects. Most stick to gold and gumdrops. Hard to mess up those two items. Bronze is simpler than thou might think, but the sort of wood thou might use for an instrument—” He squinted, shook his head, and ate another bite of bread pudding.
I asked, “Chemistry would be involved? Sculpture too?”
Count Juniper frowned and shook his head as he ate. He finished and used a napkin on the corners of his mouth. “Well, this meal is delightful. We can try it, but we’ll probably be gifting half of it when thou art on the other side, and I’m not sure that thou canst even make things without the sight, advanced illusion, and some basic ability to connect to a Fairyland. All of these are precluded by the contract, so let’s try to focus first on what brings thee joy. What delights thee?”
I looked at Mr. Hebert. “I like cooking with Mr. Hebert. I like slapping my box in a group of enthusiastic musicians. I like sitting on a high shaded limb with a breeze blowing by and the water flowing below. I don’t need a gift for any of that. Not really. I miss my family, but I can’t say they make me happy. I miss them, though, so not having them around reduces my satisfaction.”
Count Juniper said, “Well, forget the family angle since thou art going to be dead soon enough, wishing them to join thee would hardly make for a satisfactory situation. Unless they’re in a lot of pain, but then, Goblins are usually pretty healthy so apart from their original family issues, pain is unlikely.
“So if we can manage to find a Fairyland with old trees, water, and other musicians that wouldn’t mind adding a percussionist to the mix, thou wilt be doing okay. That will be easy and might even be granting someone else’s wish by introducing thee to them. No gifting required and we can arrange that without a single wish.
“Unless thou can visit Real easily, cooking with thy friend may be harder. Titans are mostly gift-proof, so I’ll need to gift thee with summoning. This is ideal for me since I can manage all the gifting thou hast asked for, and I can visit to help make sure we keep it gifted since thy suffering will soon preclude much practice and study.”
Mr. Hebert said, “I can keep a supply of bread pudding handy for when you visit.”
Count Juniper smiled.
I asked, “Why gumdrops?”
Count Juniper said, “Easier than sugar plums and ever since C. S. Lewis, Turkish delight has had a negative connotation. Not that everyone loves the stuff. Really, it’s just candy that’s popular and easy to make. The rulers of Fairylands like to make candy to reward their subjects. The mass all ends up coming back to them, and it makes a lot of Fairies happy. Fairy liquor’s pretty easy to make, but rarely has the depth of good rum, scotch, or bourbon. I’m fairly skilled at making chocolate, so I can please a lot of folk, but I cheat on some of the harder ingredients, so it’d kill a human to taste my best work.”