For most, a knock on the door during the night is an unexpected thing. But expectations fluctuate when one is in the business of magic, and late calls are not unusual when one is the only person around equipped to do certain jobs.

Being the lone Magician's Guild representative for miles, Londra was not surprised to hear someone knocking on her office door long after most people had retired to bed. Cordon Heath was a small village; any magical matter would be brought to her before too long. She had been burning the midnight oil anyway, working through her predecessor's leftover paperwork. Though in a town this small, things could usually wait until morning. The lateness of the call attested to its seriousness.

Londra answered the door. "Yes? How can I help you?"

Her caller turned out to be one of the local farmers. Benden, she believed his name was. A week's growth of beard covered his chin; he clutched his hat in one hand and a lantern in the other. "Pardon me, Miss. Is Winnakin here?"

"You mean my predecessor. He's retired. I'm Londra Albot, the new Guildswoman."

Her caller shook his head in embarrassment. "Oh, right. Keep forgetting. Apologies."

"No need." In normal circumstances, she would have been more annoyed but the farmer clearly had other things on his mind. "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Benden?"

"Huh? Oh, yes Miss Guildswoman. Uh, may I come in?"

"Of course."

On the windowsill nearby, Londra's contracted Vesper, Konas, stirred from his nap. His huge gold cat eyes regarded their visitor as he entered the Guild Office and Londra made an offer of tea.

"Thank you, Miss." He took the cup and sat down. "The hour is late for both of us, so I'll not waste time. I’m here about my daughter. She's been acting... funny."

Settling behind her desk, Londra asked, "Funny how?"

"Just odd. She barely sleeps a wink but never seems tired, she's been muttering strange things under her breath, and there are times I'll look at her and she appears... off somehow. Like her features are too perfect. That feeling passes in a moment though."

The Guildswoman considered his description. Nothing jumped out at her as being inherently magical about Benden's daughter. But he was correct about it being odd.

"Do you believe your daughter's been cursed then?"

"Frankly Miss, I'm not sure what to think. She hasn't been the same since that illness swept through town."

"The Saffron Fever. I remember."

"We almost lost her to it," A passing worry crossed the farmer's face before he continued. "This might just be me being overprotective. Winnakin used to come check things like this out for us..."

Londra sighed at her predecessor's name and tried to pass it off as a yawn. She didn't blame Benden or the people of Cordon Heath for doing so, but she wished they would stop comparing her to Old Winnakin. That was the problem with Guild positions in small villages like this. The citizens got so accustomed to one person fixing their magical woes for years. Anyone new feels like a cheap replacement.

Her visitor could tell he offended her. "Sorry Miss Londra. I'm bothering you for no reason. I'll be on my way."

He stood to briskly exit, but she stopped him.

"No Mister Benden. If my predecessor would have taken care of this for you, then I shall as well. As your Magician's Guild representative, it is my duty to set the minds of Cordon Heath's citizens at ease when it comes to magic. Let me gather my tools."

"Oh, thank you, Miss." He vigorously shook her hand in thanks.

She faked a positive smile, but caught Konas giving her a stink eye. The Vesper knew his mistress was acting out of jealousy, not altruism. She couldn't disagree.

Leaving Benden to nurse his tea, Londra fetched her Guild accouterments. To protect against the night chill, she threw the standard blue cloak over her slight shoulders. It draped around her ankles. Some of the villagers thought their new Guildswoman appeared underfed, a notion her cylindrical uniform contributed to. But she was plenty well fed, just not as plump as these country folk got. Atop her swish of white hair, Londra placed the matching wide brimmed blue hat. Not pointed, as many people believed.

From her desk, she retrieved her work talisman, a simple copper rod. This and a few other tools she put it into a doctor's bag, and then whistled for her Vesper. He yawned and hopped off his perch. Benden eyed him cross the floor, aware that this white-furred creature was no mere animal. With his long, bushy tail, flat face, and high pointed ears, Konas was not quite a cat, not quite a rabbit, and not quite a fox. Contracted Vespers often took the form of such amalgam critters.

Jumping up on Londra's shoulder in a single bound, her contractor whispered, "Is this really worth investigating? The man himself said he might be imagining things."

"Even if he is, investigating will make a strong impression. Winnakin served these people for decades, so they're naturally somewhat skeptical of me. If I can show them I'm as capable and trustworthy as him, the transition will go easier."

The Vesper's tail swished from side to side. "Fine. But if you ended my nap for no reason, I won't let you forget it."

"Noted."

Londra pocketed one last thing from her desk before leaving, a simple scrap of cloth with a special sigil stitched on it. Though not enchanted in any way, she'd had it since childhood and thought of it as a good luck charm. Having it with her gave the novice Guildswoman some extra confidence. She turned back to her visitor, finishing his tea. "Lead the way, Mr. Benden."

The farmer nodded, re-lit his lantern, and they left the Guild station. He led Londra and her Vesper through the quiet, slumbering burg. A few low burning oil lamps and candles gave evidence of the Guildswoman's fellow night owls. The trio did not travel far; Benden's farm lay on the same outskirts of Cordon Heath as her office. A scarecrow stood sentinel in the field as starlight shined through the gaps of clouds. Such a night did not seem a setting for any kind of mystical mischief.

Another man, a bit burlier than Benden, met them at the door.

"Where's Winnakin?" the man asked.

"He retired, remember? This is Miss Londra, the new Guildswoman. Miss Londra, my husband Jolah."

She pinched her cloak with her free hand and curtsied. "Evening sir."

Jolah gave her a polite nod and pulled his partner aside. "Do you think she can handle this? Whatever it is? I would feel assured with Winnakin, but this new girl..."

"I'm sure it will be fine, love. She's from the Guild, same as him. Yes, she's young and new in town, but if we give her a chance than maybe we can help Siffa."

Londra coughed to grab their attention. "Pardon me, gentlemen. I'm sure your daughter's condition has you worried but fear not. Situations like this are quite common in my profession. Let me get to work and this matter will be dealt with quick as lightning."

"Of course. We'll let you get to it," said Benden. Embarrassed, the two men shuffled out of the way.

Entering the house, Londra sensed nothing unusual. Not on the surface at least.

"Konas, sniff around. See if you can catch a whiff of curses or enchantments."

"By your command." The Vesper hopped off her shoulder and traced a serpentine trail through the farmhouse, nose to the floorboards.

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In the meantime, Londra drew a pencil and notebook from her bag. "While my contractor searches, tell me more about your daughter. Your husband said something about the Saffron Fever."

"Yes, Siffa came down with it the same time as everyone else," said Jolah, "We were so worried. She's so young, and we thought we might lose her. The doctor did all he could, but she was bedridden for weeks."

"Then suddenly, she got better," his husband added. "As though she were never sick at all. Almost like a miracle. I suppose we should have questioned it more, but we were just happy to have our daughter back. After that, she started acting odd."

Londra bit the blunt end of her pencil. A recovery like that was definitely suspicious, but was it magical? More facts were needed.

"Did the doctor come check her after the illness passed? Or since these strange behaviors began?"

"Yes. He didn't find anything unusual. Siffa seemed perfectly healthy."

A meow from Konas interrupted the questioning. "The smell of enchantment is coming from this door. I wouldn't mistake it for anything," said the Vesper.

"Siffa's room is behind that door," said Benden.

Londra continued, "Have you noticed any other changes in your daughter? Even something small."

The two farmers thought for a moment.

"Wisp."

"Yes, Siffa was always talking about her new friend Wisp. She said he always came and visited her, even when she was sick. We assumed he was imaginary, a childish fantasy."

"Fantasy, yes. Imaginary, no." said Londra.

From her bag, she pulled a lodestone on a string, tied it around her middle finger, and let it dangle from her hand.

"Which way is North?"

Jolah pointed to one side of the farmhouse. Facing that direction, the trained Guildswoman checked her instrument. For the most part it tended north, but almost imperceptibly, it wavered toward Siffa's door on her left.

"Thought so."

Next, she replaced the lodestone with a thermometer. Neither farmer recognized the recent invention and looked at each other in confusion. Taking some readings around the room, Londra got the result she expected. Temperatures were cooler around Siffa's room.

Konas jumped back on her shoulder without disturbing her concentration.

"Thoughts?" He asked her.

"Without a doubt, something's made itself at home here. Another Vesper most likely. My guess is this Wisp they told me about."

"Then what's our next move, Londra?"

She retrieved her copper rod talisman from her bag and turned back to the two fathers. "May I see your daughter?"

Benden knocked on their daughter's door. "Siffa, honey? There's a nice woman here to see you. She wants to ask you a few questions, okay?"

"Will she be awake this late?"

"She has been since the sickness."

No answer came.

The farmer shrugged and opened the door anyway.

Cautious to what she might find, Londra crossed the threshold of the girl's room first, raising her talisman a little to be safe. Konas leapt down to guard her front.

On her knees before her bed, Siffa held court over a gathering of spiders, crickets, and other night insects. Her voice, no louder than a whisper, made their antenna twitch. But as Konas approached, the bugs scattered. The little girl turned to face her intruders.

"Evening Miss," she said with a smile that almost seemed genuine.

"Evening Siffa. My name is Londra. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"Not at all. Please sit with me."

Londra’s contractor growled in the back in his throat, but she tapped him with her talisman.

"It's fine, Konas."

The white Vesper eyed the girl, then his mistress. "Be careful," he told her. Londra nodded and sat across from Siffa on the floor. Her fathers peered in from the other room.

"Your daddies are very worried about you Siffa."

"Oh? Whatever for?"

"They tell me you haven't been the same since the fever left you. That you've been acting odd. Is this true?"

The girl giggled behind her hands with more malice than mirth. "Silly daddies. I'm fine. Wisp and his friends saw to that. They're such fine friends they are."

That artificial smile tugged at her lips again and Londra gripped her copper rod a bit tighter.

"I'm sure they are," the Guildswoman said, "Are Wisp and his friends here now?"

"Oh no. They had to go home. The Lady of Rags only lets them visit every now and again. They won't be back for some time. Maybe until I'm as old as you!"

"Hmmm. Is that so?"

Siffa nodded, her expression stiff as a statue. With her answer, Londra formed an idea of what she was dealing with. All the evidence; the wavering lodestone, the change in temperature, Siffa's odd behavior, pointed toward a single conclusion. One more test would confirm it.

"I think you're right Siffa. Your daddies are being silly. Could you do one more thing for me before I leave though?"

"Of course Londra. What is it?"

The Guildswoman couldn't decide if this intruder was arrogant or just dumb. From her bag, she withdrew the last test. "Hold this horseshoe please."

At that moment, the girls' porcelain façade cracked.

"I... I would rather not. That thing is probably dirty and I don't want to get sick again. Right, daddies?"

Their daughter's impostor got no help from the farmers.

"Go on," said Londra, "Touch this simple bit of iron and I'll go. I insist."

The girl that wasn't Siffa backed away in fright. Her eyes darted in separate directions, looking for any escape route. Londra wouldn't give it the chance.

"By the power of this iron, I bind you to that spot. Magen Braugh!"

Light shot from the end of her rod, transforming into glimmering shackles. They wrapped around the false Siffa, chaining her to the bed's footboard.

"Now reveal your true form!"

The Guildswoman pressed the horseshoe into the girl's forehead, drawing forth steam and screams.

"Ah! Ah! Stop!" Not Siffa cried.

Seams appeared across her body and stitches unraveled. The appearance of the farmers' daughter fluttered away in scraps of cloth, leaving only tatters behind. A streak of movement rushed toward the window.

"Konas don't let it escape!"

Londra's Vesper pounced, teeth bared, on to the impostor. He caught it in his jaws as its fingertips grazed the windowsill and pinned it to the floor. His mistress approached, talisman raised.

"I knew it," she said, "A changeling."

"A what?" asked Benden.

"A changeling," Londra explained, "A Fairy Vesper left in your daughter's place. Iron hurts them, so the horseshoe undid its disguise."

Teeth clenched around its throat, Konas held down a dirty, saucer-eyed gremlin. A sparse loincloth and ragged foot wraps are all that hid its modesty. The common kobold struggled against his captor’s grip.

"Release Me!" it demanded.

"Not likely," Londra said leveling her talisman at the changeling's forehead. "Now tell me what you've done with the true Siffa."

"And suffer my mistress' wrath? I would rather have my feet turned backwards and my eyes become butterflies."

Konas bit down harder, silencing their captive for the moment. Londra realized she would need a persuasive technique. Holding up her rod, she cast another spell.

"Sons and daughters of the Burning Fields, lend me a flame that fuses metal. Magen Braugh."

From her talisman's tip came a torch of blue fire, blazing at a steady intensity. She pushed it toward the impostor's cheek, a needle about to pierce cloth. His pupils danced wildly across his unblinking eyes as it inched closer.

"Now then, tell me Vesper," she said, "Which you would prefer? To be bottled or banished? Or perhaps I'll simply pull out your spirit and sell your body to the local apothecary. Root Vespers like you make for such potent potions."

"All right! All right!" it pleaded, "I'll speak the truth, plain and fair, just spare me miss. Shape-changer I may be, but burns like your torch'll give me remain in all forms."

Londra nodded to her white-furred contractor, who released their suspect, and blew out her mystic fire. The changeling attempted to rise, but Konas held him down with one paw.

"We didn't say you could get up. Now talk," he said.

"Where is Siffa?"

"My mistress took the lass," said the impostor, "The Lady of Rags left me behind to fool her fathers. She'll be spiriting her off to Fairyhome as we speak."

"Oh goodness, not out daughter!"

"Why?" Londra asked. "Why take the girl?"

Konas pressed down harder.

"Ah! She asked my Lady to take her. I don't know the why or wherefore."

Asked to go with them? Now that was unusual. From her time with the Magician's Guild, Londra knew that the Lord and Lady Vespers of Fairyhome often kidnapped children and unwary mortals. But going with one willingly was almost unheard-of. Something more than a simple changeling replacement was going on here.

"Where is the gate to Fairyhome?"

"Neigh, even upon pain of bottling, I cannot reveal that. The last I'll say is that if you wish the girl back, you'd best move quick. My Lady may dawdle, but by the time the sun rises the doors will close, and she'll be as good as gone."

Sunrise? That didn't give Londra much time to rescue Siffa.

"I've spoken all I know, I have. Will you free me now?"

"Let him go Konas. He's of no more use to us."

The white Vesper lifted his paw, but hissed at their informant one last time before returning to his mistress' side. The changeling shifted into something like a mouse and scurried away through the floorboards.

"Well, your intuition paid off," said Konas, resuming his perch on Londra's shoulder. "What's our next move?"

"Miss Londra?" Benden and Jolah entered the room for the first time. The burlier farmer hung back while his husband grabbed the Guildswoman's hands.

"You are going to bring our daughter back, right? We've heard stories about what happens to people who go to Fairyhome. We're old as is, we can't imagine not seeing Siffa again for twenty years or longer. Her unchanged and us aged as trees."

"I can't believe what that... that thing said. Why would Siffa ask to leave? Why would she trust these fairies over us?" asked Jolah.

Londra took a deep breath. This was the most important part of her job as a Guilds Representative. When ordinary people like these farmers were confronted with arcane strangeness, she needed to be the steady rock assuring them that things still made sense. That things would still be okay.

She put a hand on Benden's shoulder.

"Benden. Jolah. I will do all I can to bring Siffa back to you. Fairy Vespers like this Lady of Rags often trick and beguile people. I'm sure your daughter was manipulated into leaving. Everything will be cleared up when she comes home."

Konas gave her an approving nod.

"For the moment, stay here. She may return on her own. If not, I'll be waiting at the gate to Fairyhome."

"But that sprite said you only have until sunrise and that's-"

"My concern, not yours. Don't worry. The Guild trained me for this."

With Siffa's fathers calmed enough, Londra took her leave to pursue the investigation. In her pocket, her hand wrapped around that childhood sigil, looking for some of that same reassurance. She checked her watch. Ten minutes past midnight. Six hours left until dawn.

"Again, what's our next move?" Konas asked.

"An aristocrat from Fairyhome is still an aristocrat. Aristocrats have servants. Let's chat with the working class."