“I really do wish you wouldn’t come with us. Mr. Larch is an extraordinarily dangerous man, don’t you know? I would never forgive myself if anything were to go horribly wrong.”

“Fiddlesticks, Mr. Barnstabrake. You and I are the only two in our acquaintance who know Mr. Larch’s true capabilities. Who else was there who could have come with you? And while Mr. Gates has hitherto proven himself trustworthy he has likewise proved unpredictable. I esteem you far too highly to permit you to undertake such a dangerous enterprise without me.”

“Ah…..I see. Miss Howard, do you really esteem me so highly?”

“My statements on the matter should stand for themselves, as always.”

“Oh I say….rather jolly, that. But hullo, what’s Gates up to now?”

Gates stood a ways ahead, peeping inelegantly around a corner. The narrow avenue opened into a canal, on the opposite side of which was a neat block of row houses and shops.

Gates appeared to have satisfied himself for the moment and returned to where Harlow and Fanny stood.

“That’s Wimple Street across the canal there. At the point where the canal takes a sharp turn eastward Wimple becomes Coster Street. There are several boarding houses there, and my information indicates that Kador makes his abode in one of them.

I am quite wary of entering the street openly. If Kador’s at home he could spot us at any instant. But we need to make inquiries to precisely ascertain his address, so there’s no avoiding the matter. Barnstabrake and I will go. Miss Howard will make inquiries here on Wimple Street. We will regroup here in two hours. If after three hours anyone is still missing, whoever is here will repair at once to the office of the Variburgs and inform Colonel Drakenhart.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Gates, but are you attempting to be chivalrous by asking me to search Wimple instead of Coster?”

“I am being sensible. Coster is the most dangerous street, so no one should go there alone and I as the only one who knows any counter jinxes should be one of them. My face, though, is the most well known to Kador. Next to mine is likely yours, and least of all is Barnstabrake’s. So I’ll go with him.”

“Well, I for one am quite content that Miss Howard should remain as safe as possible, in fact, I really rather wish she would return to the Variburgs…..”

“You are very kind, Mr. Barnstabrake, but you know my mind.”

“I do, and I’m very fond of it, which is precisely why I don’t want to give Larch any opportunity whatsoever to fiddle about in it.”

“The concern is mutual, I assure you, and if you do really value the integrity of my mind then you will accede to its inclinations, which are rather towards your own welfare as much as my own.”

“Can you two birds kindly cease pecking and cooing at each other so we can get on with things before we manage to lay ourselves an egg? We still have a witch to catch, you know.”

One would never have suspected that such a villainous personality as Mr. Larch would be found in such a tidy and placid locale as Coster Street, unless of course one were the sort to find suspicion always in that which is the most innocent. Cheerful red brick and white window boxes overflowing with flowers were to be found everywhere, while the shops and merchants were all of the most buoyant and accommodating character.

In point of fact, the sunny folk of the neighborhood were entirely amiable and open to the polite enquiries of strangers, and gladly conversed freely on any subject. And all were quite adamant that they had never heard of anyone matching the description of Mr. Larch.

After two hours of the most tiresome and unfruitful of pleasantries Harlow felt wholly morose about the whole business.

“I don’t suppose he could have jinxed every last one of them.”

“Oh, I’m sure he laced himself with enchantments at every turn, and no doubt has outright bewitched a few. But I had expected a bit more of the old velvet than this…..Kador has done quite well in forging a shelter for himself, it would seem. If he weren’t running about everywhere else accruing debts, I think we’d have found it wholly impossible to locate him even thus far. All goes to show that one can never be too careful in how much one puts by for a rainy day.”

“Bother and drat the whole business, I say. I’m heartily sick of it all. The way things have gone Larch might just as well be anywhere at all in the whole of the Fairworld, even as we are practically on his doorstep.”

Harlow leaned upon a breast high wall of mossy stone overlooking the canal, gazing thoughtfully as the sunlight darted among the ripples like so many flashes of enchanted gems. Nearby a small stairwell led to a tiny unused stone landing, the still waters beside which were overgrown with a miniature forest of flowering lilies. Deep among the vibrant flowers dragonflies darted blissfully to and fro, while between the floating leaves fish could be seen now and then, foraging contentedly in the mysterious deep of a tiny cosmos between the lily pads and the muddy bottoms.

“Why do they call it the Fairworld, I wonder? I don’t suppose you know...or rather, of all people I suppose it would be you who did.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Gates leaned upon the stonework as he too looked out over the water.

“You see, it’s called the Fairworld because of who it belongs to. This world, this is the world of the Fair Folk, the Good Folk. The Ancient Faerie. It is they who built it. It is they who sustain it. And in the end, it is they who rule it. None of us, we the human race that is, none of us were here to begin with. We were all of us brought here from the Old Earth, as some are wont to call it. Every last race of mankind, from the Remans to the Greeks….every one of them was brought or enticed here by them, through the many doors and paths with which they have linked this world to the other. All of our bloodlines and all of our civilizations have their roots somewhere in the Old Earth.”

“Fairies, you say?”

“Not just any fairies or elves, but the Ancient Faerie, the first and greatest of all fey creatures, to whom they say this world was given.”

“By whom?”

“For their own part the Good Folk attribute the matter to an entity which they call Udar. Who or what Udar is is a bit more complicated, and everyone has their own pet theory. Personally I’m not convinced that even the Good Folk really understand it.

In any case, legend has it that in the beginning when the Earth was first forged the Ancient Faerie were directed by Udar to tend and nurture it. But soon enough the Faerie came to conflict with one another. It is said that only a minority of the Ancient Faerie remained loyal to their task as tenders of the earth. The others either abandoned their duties altogether or else became corrupted. A portion of them sought to seize control of the planet for themselves and do with it as they wished, and a terrible war rent the surface of the Earth as the spirits of nature itself did battle with one another. In the end, it was the faithful races who won. The irony of the legend is that when it was all over, the winners were rewarded with the very thing their enemies had sought to take for themselves: Their own earth. A copy, if you will, a separate world unto itself for them to shape, mould and rule. You see, at heart they are creative creatures. They love to build, to grow, and to form, but they really weren’t permitted to all that much, not on the Old Earth. It was not theirs to shape, only to tend. But by being faithful and doing the right thing and so forth they got what they wanted most in the end, a world of their own. I believe there’s supposed to be a moral in there somewhere.”

“That’s…..quite a story...and a vaguely familiar one, at that.”

“It’s been around quite some time, you probably heard it in some nursery or other.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“And you take it for truth?”

“I rather do, yes. At least in part. I like happy endings, but the cynic in me likes to believe that the Good Folk were put in a separate world primarily in order to keep them out of any further trouble.”

“You’ll pardon me if I’m a bit skeptical.”

“You’re not alone in that regard. These days the Good Folk deliberately conceal their existence from most people. Long ago the Good Folk ceased to directly intervene in the affairs of men, preferring instead to meddle behind the scenes through intermediaries and leave mankind to its own devices for the most part. Personally I find it quite frustrating, I would prefer it if they came crashing down on men like Kador and his kind with lightning bolts and things. But they don’t. Instead they often recruit humans like you and me to do their work for them. I myself have served them from time to time, but nowadays I tend to ignore them and operate on my own, and so far they seem to be content to put up with me. The Good Folk are well humored creatures, in their way.”

“This is all most extravagant!”

“The universe is a marvelous and extravagant place, my friend.”

The speculation that Larch had managed to bewitch all of his neighbors on Coster Street may well have been true. But a minute attention to exhaustive detail in one place can often lead to oversights further afield, with disastrous consequences. In any case, while Gates and Harlow had been fruitless so far in their quest, merely one street over Fanny had found intelligence of the most precise nature: An address, an apartment, and even a solid outline of the man’s comings and goings. And still more urgently, she had learned that at this moment Mr. Larch was in all probability not at home.

It was risky, to be sure. Quite dangerous, in fact. But the knowledge that a thing is urgent and that an opportunity presents itself fleetingly can lead even the most level headed to seize the moment with abandon. Larch was absent at present, and though her efforts had now established the precise location of his apartments, a bit of inner knowledge as to the disposition and general character of the domicile could prove invaluable, even absolutely essential, if one were daring enough to take the risk of entering while there was a chance.

The landlady was quite civil, if a trifle weak eyed and slow of reason for her age, characteristics which Fanny suspected might well have been arcanely cultivated by her insidious tenant. It didn’t take much convincing at all to persuade the feeble woman to permit Fanny to have a look about inside on the pretense of being a prospective renter. The pliability of the woman was extraordinary, and in short work Fanny even prevailed upon the landlady to permit her to wander on her own.

The apartment was shut, and the door was locked. However, there were many reasons why the Barbarians Howard held their sister in such high esteem. Quickly satisfying herself of her privacy, Fanny extracted a small pair of scissors from her reticule. One indoor Gandish lock was really very much like another, and back in the days as a spirited little girl Fanny had prided herself on her ability to open any door in the house in defiance of all obstacles. With a bit of fiddling and a frighteningly indiscreet click Fanny swiftly passed to the other side of the door, shutting it breathlessly behind her.

There was an eerie sort of quiet about the room. All in all Fanny felt very much as if she had just stepped into a tomb.

The room was quite bare, almost painfully so. Fanny was a woman who possessed a keen sense of place. Men may tramp blithely through their familiar halls for days and never notice that the floor or walls have changed color, but a woman such as Fanny will take notice if an object is even a few inches removed from where it is ordinarily wont. And even in an unfamiliar house, Fanny could often sense when something was out of place or not properly cared for.

Everything about Larch’s apartment was wrong. And with a jolt of dismay Fanny realized that the place had been abandoned.

Nothing at all on any shelf or dresser. Nothing at all on any tables. A bed stripped to its ribbings, every candle dusty, and every drawer empty.

Yet this was not all. It had so far been a warm September, yet the fireplace was piled high with fresh ash and soot. And extraordinary volume of ash, in fact. And no sign at all of any wood.

Fanny was about to depart when she observed one last curiosity that piqued her attention. As bereft of adornment as the room was, there was as yet a lone circular mirror at the far end, convex and with a dull gilded frame, purely an element of decoration. Yet the glass was strangely dull. Fanny crossed the room and looked deeply at the glass.

It reflected nothing.

Yes, it shone like a mirror. It was polished like a mirror. Yet no images formed within it at all.

Fanny’s mind felt a little numb as it bent itself around the inherent contradiction of this extraordinary object. On instinct she touched it.

The moment her skin met the smooth surface the mirror burst forth in ripples of light. With a squeak Fanny snatched away her hand as she stared at the wonder unfolding before her.

Images were at last forming in the mirror. She could see the room reflected now, though in a markedly different state. The fire was burning, the bed was made, a trunk lay open to one side, a table was strewn with papers and bits of half eaten food, and there were books and other assorted objects on the shelves. The room was filled with a red glow streaming through the tiny window, as if it were near either sunset or dawn.

Fanny watched this extraordinary scene with wonder. Obviously this was some exotic device of Larch’s, left behind in his haste, perhaps. Inside the reflection, the door of the apartment was now opening, and Larch entered the room.

He had a haggard and tense expression on his face. He looked quickly about and then bade way for a small, shrunken, wholly inoffensive and helpless looking old man. Larch attentively proffered a seat and offered refreshments, the latter of which the old man declined kindly, and Larch took a seat opposite him.

Fanny could hear their voices quite distinctly, even as they were quiet and curiously distant. Larch was speaking animatedly.

“What news do you have for me? Have the Speaker’s given you an answer, will they provide the money?”

The elderly man coughed lightly and spoke in gentle tones.

“I’m afraid things are rather a bit complicated, my dear Kador. The Speakers, you see, are rather concerned.”

“It will be alright, so long as I can get enough money quickly. The ship I was to charter is still unsold, it can be had yet. All I need is for them to deliver the money as quickly as possible.”

“You misunderstand, my dear friend. But that has always been the way with you. Your safety is nothing of concern at this point.”

“That’s good news. But the Speakers needn’t be worried about the mission, not in the long term. That blasted Hawk may have ruined things at Potham, but I shall return to the country soon enough. I still have a few resources here and I can begin again in another village, within the year I should think.”

“Yes, The Hawk’s involvement was not something that was foreseen. The man is a nuisance, but hitherto he hasn’t been taken into as much account as he perhaps should have been. He is an agitator, a conspirator, and an interloper. He is very much a loose cannon, fighting a war on his own, and up to now I suppose we really haven’t taken his antics all that seriously. There are others, much more powerful, who have commanded our attention. But that is beside the matter at hand. As I said, the Speakers are concerned.”

“I already told you I have everything arranged, all I need is the money.”

“I am afraid…..”

Here the older gentleman stifled a yawn.

“...I’m afraid we are rather past that. The Speakers are, in point of fact, unhappy.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Speakers, as I said, are unhappy. With you.”

“What you getting at, old man?”

“The Speakers are most distinctly disappointed with the way you have utterly bungled your task. This was your last chance, my dear friend, your very last. And you have failed completely.”

“No!!! No, no! I haven’t failed yet, it’s just a setback! Please, no! I can do this yet, I can….”

“There is no need to become excited, my dear Kador. The Speakers have made their decision. It is done. It has only to be finished.”

Suddenly, a wicked blade appeared as out of nowhere. Then, it was over.

Larch lay stretched across the table, his throat cut so deeply that he was all but decapitated. The elderly gentleman stood by Larch’s corpse, wiping down a bloody dagger while humming bemusedly to himself. He poked about the room, examining various objects and papers. He appeared to be in a hurry, though, and never so much as approached the place where the mirror hung.

Presently he came to the fire and emptied a dark sort of powder into it from a vial. The flames roared into a great inferno of purple blaze. Still humming to himself the little old man dragged the body of Larch to the fire and lurched as much of it as would fit into the flames. The whole of Larch’s body caught fire and in a few seconds was reduced to only a black ash scattered across the floor. The old man began gather up Larch’s belongings, tossing each into the inferno as every piece of paper, porcelain, wood or metal burned to a powder within a moment of touching the violet flames. In a matter of minutes there was not a trace of Larch’s occupancy left in the room, even the bedding the old man burned. Yet in all he seemed to have missed the mirror, perhaps owing to some enchantment laid upon it, or perhaps because of a perfectly ordinary lapse of attentiveness. When all was at last destroyed and the ashes swept into the fireplace the old man poured another vial of powder into the fire, and the blaze died to an ember. With a last look about the room the old man departed, still humming to himself.

Time passed. The mirror seemed to have a way of accelerating the passage of time when it was not witnessing anything particularly interesting. The room darkened and lighted and darkened again with what appeared to be the passage of quite a few days.

Suddenly the mirror showed the door open again, and Fanny saw herself enter. She watched herself rummage about the room, at last reaching up to touch the mirror itself. The moment her reflected finger reached the glass, the mirror went dark again.

Fanny drew away from the mirror in stunned amazement. She stared at the dark inanimate glass, trying to press into memory everything she had just seen or heard. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she snatched the mirror from the wall and fled the room.