The old circle of standing stones had sat at the cedar forest's edge for longer than Siffa had been alive. Probably for longer than her fathers had been alive. A sacred place it was, but dangerous as well. Parents warned their children to avoid the megaliths, and the villagers of Cordon Heath only visited there to perform rituals that couldn't be done at the Great Spirit's shrine.

Now, in the dim twilight of dawn, Siffa stood on its threshold.

Blue energy hummed and emanated off the stones, bubbles of sparkling light pulsing off them. The young girl couldn't help but feel anxious about entering into the circle. A massive hand, soft and warm as a blanket, rested on her shoulders.

"Don't be afraid my pet," said the Lady of Rags, "We'll be home soon, and then you'll know nothing but joy and love for the rest of your days."

"Really?"

"Yes, darling. The same as I've provided for many other sad children like yourself over the years."

Was Siffa a sad child though? That might have been the case a short while ago, back when she was lying in bed burning with fever. Pain and sickness seemed to swallow her up whole being. Even her fathers' love felt muted. The doctors came and gave her their medicines, but they only made her hurt more. Siffa thought she would never be well again.

Then Wisp appeared. The Fairy Vesper amused her during her ailment. He told her jokes and stories, brought some life back to her. When she asked him to make her better, her new friend said he couldn't. But his mistress could. He introduced her to the Lady of Rags, and she made Siffa healthy again. So when the generous aristocrat offered to take her back to Fairyhome, to a place where she would never get sick or grow up, what child wouldn't say yes?

What sights the Lady had shown her too. She had seen the fairies at ballet, taken in the salamander races, and dined on fruits sweeter than the finest candies. And yet, standing at the circle now, Siffa still felt apprehensive.

She gazed up at her escort. If the Lady of Rags had legs to stand on, she would have stood eight and half feet tall. As it was, a long beaded skirt hid her lower form, and she floated over the ground. From her torso up to her head, her chaperone appeared human, though the only bits of skin she displayed were her chin and startling red lips. Long rolls of rich silk, linen, and cotton draped the rest of her body. A turban-like headscarf wrapped around the Lady's head and eyes. From her shoulders came not mortal arms, but four enormous mitten-like ragdoll appendages. Plush as pillows, they weighed nothing on Siffa.

Those huge hands gave the girl a gentle nudge forward.

"Come on now, dear. We mustn't dally."

"If you say so, my lady."

Siffa spared a glance back at Cordon Heath. Dull hurt knotted in her chest and melancholy overcame her. Homesickness, she supposed, despite not leaving yet. The sensation was quite new for a girl of only nine years old. She turned back to the stone circle.

"Wait!" cried a voice in the distance.

The sudden sound caught Siffa's attention but the Lady's hands kept her from finding its source.

"Never mind that, my love," she said. "Go on. Step forward now."

"No. I... I don't think-"

"What's there to think about? You asked me to take you, so I'm taking you. Now pass through the circle."

"Wait right there!" the voice shouted.

This time the Lady could not stop Siffa. Both she and the giant Fairy Vesper turned. Standing before them, out of breath with her talisman drawn, was a woman with a wave of white hair cascading down her head clutching a doctor's bag. Her blue hat and cloak meant that she could be none other than a Guild representative. An indeterminate white-furred creature rode on her shoulders.

Londra had arrived, with twenty minutes to spare.

"Lady of Rags, I am called Londra Albot. In the name of the Magician's Guild of the mortal plane, I order you to relinquish Siffa this moment."

The Lady scowled. "You dare to order me, Guild slime?"

"I recognize you are a member of the Fairy nobility, but you hold no authority here. As was decided-"

The massive aristocrat roared at the Guildswoman, her jaw unhinging slightly and revealing a mouth full of arachnid mandibles behind her scarlet lips. Undaunted, Londra continued on.

"As was decided in the human-fairy treaty of 892. I will not allow you to take that child to Fairyhome."

The Lady snarled in her throat and brought Siffa closer to her, smothering the girl against her with her four huge hands.

"I am aware of your treaties. The child asked me to take her. If asked, I am within my right to take her with me. You cannot stop me."

Tricky bitch, she was correct. If someone asks to go with a Fairy Vesper, the Guild could do nothing to stop them from going. But that rule was never intended for someone as young as Siffa. The girl couldn't have fully grasped what she was agreeing to. Leave it to an aristocrat to twist the law to do horrible things.

Londra didn't need to stop the Lady of Rags from leaving though. She only needed to make sure Siffa didn't go with her.

The Guildswoman lowered her talisman a bit and turned her attention to the kidnapped girl, nearly buried in the many folds of the Lady's fabrics.

"Siffa, did you ask to go with her?"

She didn't answer. Her eyes took on the pained look every child gets when stuck between two grown-ups angry at one another. Certain that it was her fault and afraid anything she might say will only make things worse.

"I won't be mad at you if you did. I just need to know. My name is Londra and I'm friends with your daddies. You can trust me."

Siffa's anxiety lessened.

"Did you ask to go with the Lady?"

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The girl peered up at her chaperone and nodded, "Uh-huh."

The Lady smiled, arrogant in assumed vindication.

"Why did you ask to go with her?"

"I didn't want to be sick anymore. It hurt so much. I couldn't breathe, or play, or do anything. None of the medicine made me better, but then the Lady helped me. She said she would take me to a place where I would never get sick again."

"And what about your daddies?" asked Londra, "Didn't you think they would miss you?"

"The Lady said I could come visit them. That they wouldn't even notice I was gone."

"Or did you eradicate my changeling, mortal scum?" the aristocrat barked.

Londra ignored her.

"They did notice Siffa. Your daddies are worried about you. They want you to come home."

"But she said I could visit!" The girl was on the verge of tears.

"Yes. Years and years from now, when your daddies have grown old and gray. The Lady didn't tell you that part. Time passes differently in Fairyhome. By the time you come back, The Veiled Lady may have come to collect their souls"

"No!" Siffa tried running away, but the Lady held her back. She leaned down her massive form to whisper into the girl's ear.

"Don't listen to her Siffa. She's a liar. I bet she's never even met your daddies. Trust me, my love. I made you better, didn't I?"

Londra stepped closer, stowing her talisman. Konas leapt from her shoulders as she knelt on the grass, offering Siffa her hand.

"It will be okay, Siffa. The Lady told you to ask to come with her, didn't she? If that's what happened, just tell her no and come to me. I'll take you home."

Tears rolled down Siffa's cheeks as she looked from Londra to her chaperone and back again. The decision was almost more than the girl could bear. But then she burst out of the Lady's grasp toward the Guildsman.

"I want to go home! I don't want to go with you anymore!"

She ran right into Londra's arms, who caught her in a hug.

"I'm sorry, Miss Guild Lady. I'm sorry."

"Shh. Shh. It's alright Siffa. You don't have anything to apologize for."

As the girl let go, wiping her nose on her sleeve, a roll of red silk lashed out and snatched her back.

"You ungrateful child," hissed the Lady of Rags, "Do you want me to make you sick again? I'll inflict an illness on you ten times worse than Saffron Fever!"

"Spirits of fire burn away these binds! Magen Braugh!"

Londra thrust her copper rod forward, shooting balls of flame. They hit the silk, charring it to ash in seconds, and freed Siffa. The girl ran behind her.

The Guildswoman declared, "Your agreement is void, dear lady. Leave peacefully and we'll have no quarrel."

"Unlikely, Guild slime. That girl belongs to me. Ragmen!"

From the shadows came the sound of slithering through the tall grass. The Lady's minions burst up from around the stone circle. Like their mistress' arms, their bodies resembled stuffed canvas dolls, the stitching clear on their limbs. On their heads they wore red hooded shawls, angry yellow eyes glowing out from within. All five brandished shears or huge needles.

Their mistress pointed at Londra and Siffa. "Seize the girl. Sew the other one's mouth shut. Let her choke on her own tongue."

The Ragmen surged forward.

Siffa clutched Londra's cloak tight, but the Guildswoman betrayed no fear. She called out, "Konas!"

Her contractor erupted up in front of her, no longer the size of a house pet but an enormous dire wolf, as long as his mistress was tall. He pounced on the closest Ragman, forcing it to the ground, and ripped the fairy servant apart with his teeth.

The other four still advanced on Londra. One jumped at her left. Pushing Siffa back, she wheeled her talisman around and cast a new spell.

"Thunder! Magen Braugh!

A bolt of purple lightning exploded from her rod's tip, hitting the Ragman dead center. It floundered and hit the dirt, but recovered quick, slinking back off into the grass. His fellows closed in, slashing at Londra with their shears and jabbing her with their needles.

The Guildswoman suffered their cuts as she gripped her copper rod with both hands. Throwing her forearms up, she created a magic shield, a purple diamond of energy around her and Siffa that tossed the Ragmen back. Shaking away their surprise, the Lady's minions hacked at the barrier with no result.

Konas blindsided another one, but the others brought their weapons down on him. Two needles pierced his side and he yelped.

At his cry, Londra pushed her shield forward, knocking the aristocrat's servants away again and bringing her Vesper under its protection. She knelt to check his injury, maintaining the spell.

"Konas, are you hurt badly?"

Her contractor got his feet, uneasily but steady.

"Nothing I can't sleep off," he said. "But those are Fairy weapons. I'm worried more about the lingering magic than the wounds."

"I'll slip you some healing potion when we get back to the office."

Outside their barrier, the Ragmen regrouped. Their mistress watched on behind them, annoyed at how long they were taking. Her minions kept their distance from the Guildswoman but didn't back down, waiting patient as vultures, twisting their enormous sewing tools in intimidation. Londra, still clutching her talisman with forearms raised and Siffa hugging her waist, surveyed the scene and tried formulating some kind of plan. Her gaze turned toward the horizon.

"Konas, I've got an idea. I'll need to drop the shield though. Can you keep them from pouncing on us for a few seconds."

"I should be able to. What are you thinking?"

She whispered her plan into his ear.

"Yeah, I think ought to work," he said.

"Excellent. On three. 1... 2... 3!"

Dropping her forearms, Londra's diamond shield vanished. The Ragmen leapt on them. But as their feet left the ground, Konas barked so loudly that a sonic shockwave broke their jump in mid-air. In the half-second they hung in the air, Londra held her rod aloft

"Siffa, close your eyes. Bright Flash! Magen Braugh!"

A ball of pure light popped from her rod's tip and exploded in a blinding wave. The flash illuminated everything; the stone circle, the empty field, even the forest behind them, in white eclipsing brightness. The blast threw their attackers away, ripping open their seams and leaving them sprawled in tatters and pieces across the field.

As she blinked back from blindness, Londra stood statue still. For a moment, she didn't think she could move. Then sudden exhaustion overcame her, and she slumped to her knees. Her copper talisman tumbled from her grip.

Siffa caught her. "Miss Guild Lady!"

Konas slunk in to help hold his mistress up.

She coughed and said, "I'm fine, you two. Making a flash that big just took a lot out of me."

"Fools! Did you think you could kill my Ragmen that easily?" The Lady of Rags screamed at them.

With a wave of one of her huge hands, the shredded scraps of her minions sprang to life. They slithered through the grass, inching along like worms, until they gathered into clumps. Their stitches re-sewed themselves and their ragdoll forms came back together. As their resuscitation finished, their ghost light eyes narrowed at Londra, Konas, and Siffa.

"Every time you rip them apart, I shall simply repair them. Do you really think you can keep this up forever?"

"No," the Guildswoman answered, "But I don't need to. Look there."

She tilted her head in the direction of the horizon. The first rays of the sun poked their way up, the twilight growing brighter with every moment.

"Sunrise is coming. You may be able to cross the boundaries between here and Fairyhome as you please, but Siffa can't. She needs to go through that gate, and it will close any minute now. So killing your Ragmen doesn't matter, I only have to fight them off until morning."

The Lady of Rags clenched her teeth, hints of her mandibles behind her grimace.

"You're as annoying as that old man Winnakin," she snarled.

Londra couldn't help but smirk with satisfaction at that.

"Fine. Keep the child. You've won for now, Guild slime. But be wary. Your recompense will come soon enough."

With a sniff of the air, the corners of the Lady's mouth turned up in petty reassurance.

"Though not from me it appears."

The aristocrat gestured to her Ragmen, and they retreated backward into the stone circle, glaring at the Guildswoman all the while. Once she and her entourage passed into the shimmering blue energy field, their silk and canvas forms unraveled, returning to mere lifeless fabric. A small breeze caught the rags, and they twirled away, spiraling eel-like into the distance. The Fairies were gone.

Leaning on Konas, Londra stood.

"Let's get you home Siffa."

"What did the Lady mean, Londra? About getting your recompense? What is recompense?"

"It means payback. Don't worry about that though. It has nothing to do with you."

The girl nodded, still concerned but mollified for now. Behind them, Londra thought she heard faint giggling and felt cigarillo smoke blow into her ear. She glanced over her shoulder, but found nothing there. Konas caught her gaze. He heard it too.

It didn't matter. Siffa was safe, that was the important thing. Anything else, Londra would deal with as it came to her. The trio limped their way back to town as she regained her strength.