8.3 The Pooka’s Wife
I was doomed. I feared that not eating some of the scone would make the queen irate, but to even nibble at it might cause me to become a permanent citizen of Faeryland. Glancing up into the queen’s face, I saw the muscles in her cheeks clench as if she were already taking note of my rejection of her food. Her eyes turned hard. Yes, a strange expression, I agree, but if you’d been standing where I was, seeing her eyes narrow into two big balls of glaring green fire, you’d have said the same thing. Her eyes grew into twin golf balls of suppressed rage that . . . I brought the biscuit towards my mouth and started to take a bite. One little bite. Surely that wouldn’t hurt, would it? What was that noise? I stopped and turned to face the door that I presumed led out into the gardens. One of the windows, blurry with dead flies, dust, smoke, and who knows what else gave a hint that there was an outside that once upon a time could be viewed through its glass pane. Behind me, the queen started yelling: “Are those the soldiers I sent for? Has my court come back? Have my servants, nobles, and other riffraff folk returned?” The three guards exchanged a look with each other. Not one of them seemed to want to respond to the queen’s query. It wasn’t until the favored one was called by his name to answer her, that words came, words that turned the queen’s complexion into stroke territory: blotchy red with patches of pale. “What do you mean no one sent notice that I needed my troops? Of course I need my army. The girl’s owner will soon be knocking at my door with her rallied forces. Do I not deserve a fair fleet of my own? Get them here, at once!” “There are no troops, Your Majesty. You dismissed them. Remember?” the favored one said. The queen was no longer sitting in her fancy chair of velvet, cranberry red. Well, it once must have been cranberry red. It now looked stained and dust-riddled from a lack of cleaning, and spider webs dangled down from the legs. I saw that the spiders had weaved a whitish nest underneath the chair; future spiders who would no doubt drape and decorate the rest of the palace. Meanwhile, the noise from the outside sounded like at least fifty men were clamoring about, knocking on doors and windows and issuing threats with voluminous bellows and grunts. The queen had forgotten about me and whether I should be eating her pomegranate scones or not, so I carefully put my untasted biscuit back on the tray and took two steps away from the table. Neither the queen nor the guards took note. I thought about running to the window and yelling for help, but I remembered the spear-weapons the guards were carrying and decided that invisibility would be smarter than flight. Thus, I sidled sideways very, very slowly and then, as quickly as possible, I slipped under the food-laden table. It was awkward walking-crawling toward the underneath middle section since the food was making the table sag lower to the ground than it should be, but I continued forward, cutting a path through a spider-web forest as my gown did its best to trip me in its cascades of heavy fabric.
8.2 The Pooka’s Wife
Penelope: I was escorted back to the queen’s banquet room. That made me wonder about the servants I wasn’t seeing. Who was cooking the meals, baking the bread, tending the chimneys, and doing other odd jobs like washing the queen’s clothing? But again as I entered the huge room, I saw no one but the three guards and the queen, herself. Earlier I’d noticed a scraggly=looking dog scavenging among the items beneath the table. Were food scraps being tossed under the table, rather than disposing of them more hygienically? Based on the dust all about the palace I doubted that cleanliness was one of the the queen’s virtues. But then, perhaps when the Court was here, things were kept sparkly clean. It would certainly be easier to waltz about without pieces of potato or bones under foot. When the queen glanced in my direction, she clapped her hands and let out an exclamation of joy. “Oh, good, the entertainment is here.” Wonderful to be lumped into a group with clowns and mimes. Not that I was knocking them, only, I had no ability in that direction, which is why I would prefer that the queen didn’t get so excited about my arrival as “entertainment.” It meant that she was going to call on me to come up with something new and exciting. I supposed I could do the tongue twister about seashells, but I certainly didn’t want to sing again. And to have to dance with the nasty guard . . . yick. “I approve. You look halfway decent now,” the queen added with another questionable compliment that I could have done without. Personally, I thought the yellow dress I was wearing was designed with the absolute worst taste and wished I could have kept my jeans and tee shirt on. But, I curtseyed and thanked the queen anyway. Polite and well-mannered was probably mandatory in captive situations. Head chopping and dungeons might be on the agenda otherwise. “Now, I command you to eat something,” the queen said in a voice that ended all debate about whether doing such a thing in Faeryland was a wise decision or not. Poor Persephone, had she been under the same compulsory directive in Hades? I took two steps closer to the table and eyed the offerings. No pomegranate seeds, but I did see a couple of apples and a huge bowl of grapes. There was also a platter towering with some kind of flat bread biscuits. They looked like they might have fruit in them, so scones? I took in a deep breath, giving myself one more pause for courage, heard the queen hiss at me for dawdling, and reached out to take one of the biscuits. “Yes,” the queen said. “Good choice. Those are my favorites. They have pomegranate seeds in them, which makes them sweet yet slightly tangy.”
8.1 The Pooka’s Wife
Timothy: The Queen herself did not reappear, but the grouchy guard, the one who’d leveled his weapon at me, popped back into the suite’s main salon. The man still looked surly and immediately addressed Ben, not me, as if I weren’t substantial (or Fae) enough to be worthy. “Queen Moragana has been informed of the whereabouts of the human,” he said. “The Queen is marshalling forces as I speak in order to revenge the deviant’s intrusion and this show of contempt to the rights of our Queen,” the guard continued, his voice gruff and as emotionless as if he were merely giving us a weather report, noting it was to be another full day of sunshine for the tenth time in a row. I stiffened my spine, forcing my body to grow several inches in height, a sometimes useful tool when dealing with bullies who thought themselves better than those they were addressing. “I will not permit my wife to be harmed because your Queen desires payback for an insult to her reign,” I thundered, my anger firing up at the robotic delivery of the man and his failure to address the information to me instead of Ben. And then there was the concept of a bloody battle being waged around my sweet lady. Weren’t the Queen and her Court aware that my wife wouldn’t survive an injury that would merely inconvenience a Fae? With my words, the guard turned to eye me, as if he’d just noticed a fly that needed swatting. “Pooka, mind your tongue or I will cut it off.” My crew all leapt into combat mode with that affront. I waved them back. Any retaliation for the guard’s rudeness should come directly from me. Being a Pooka, there were ways that I could provide an ample reckoning, but this was the Queen’s officer. Should I seek justice? Yet, the man had just threatened to cut off my tongue, not to mention dishing out insults that even a lesser man would be unable to ignore. Let the deed equal the threat, I vowed to myself. Avoiding the eyes of Daniel, my spiritual advisor, who would have counseled differently, I tapped into my magic and conjured the illusion of a tongue expanding wider — like a blowfish manipulating its body to frighten an adversary. The result was obviously effective. The guard gagged, choked back a snarl, and then started puffing up his cheeks as if that would give his mouth adequate space for the growth of a tongue too large to fit inside his mouth. Daniel, as I had known he would, stepped forward to caution me. Then Ben did so, also, a worried look on his face. No problems with the werewolves. They were both chuckling as the guard grunted and groaned, clutching at his jaw and opening and closing his mouth like a man deprived of oxygen. Oxygen? Was I cutting off the man’s air? Suddenly alarmed, I undid the magic, freeing the guard once again. As he gasped and drew in air with sharp, rapid breaths, the Fae flashed a look at me, neither angry nor retaliatory, but more respectful, as if he’d indeed learned his lesson about dealing with Pookas. Then as suddenly as he’d arrived, he flashed out, disappearing, I supposed, back to Faeryland and to his Queen where he would probably complain about my nasty behavior. Frankly I hoped he did, as long as he included my concerns about bringing war down on the shoulders of my dear, sweet wife.
7.31 The Pooka’s Wife
In the morning, after sleeping under the softest and most luxurious fur blankets, I woke up with a smile on my face, forgetting at that moment that things were dire, my life was in danger, and I was far away from Timothy, my brand new husband. The smile disappeared with my recall. I got up out of the bed . . . Yes, it was a comfy bed with lots of padding to make me think and feel like I was floating on clouds. But, stuff like that isn’t important when you’ve been kidnapped. At least, I think it’s shouldn’t be a major train of thought. I used the facilities, of which there were none. My pee from the night before still gleamed sickly in the chamber pot. And it stank. I had no fresh clothing to put on. I searched, but the room didn’t contain even an empty closet. The night stand was drawerless, not that I’d think clean clothes would fit there, but it was the indignity of it all. Nothing for me to wear but the clothes I’d slept in. The queen had spoken of getting me someone’s dress and undergarments to wear. (Yicky about the latter part, but . . .) Perhaps the queen had forgotten. Or wasn’t the guard supposed to be bringing me those things? I was grateful that he hadn’t invaded my sleeping quarters during the night, but now would be a convenient time for a gown, although I really wasn’t fond of dresses. I was a blue jeans gal through and through. Still . . . I tried the door. Still locked, so I sat down on the bed, waiting for the release from my gray room prison. I sat for a long time. My stomach growls kept me company. Should I eat here in Faeryland? Did I dare? Would it be safe? I was almost ready to crawl back under the bed covers when I heard the rattling of a key in the door’s lock. I shot up, prepared to fight or to flee, whichever one seemed more plausible. Neither. Two guards stood in the doorway barring my exit. One of them held out an arm full of garments and gruffly ordered me to clothe myself. I wanted to tell him I was already clothed, but I kept my mouth shut and grabbed what was offered. The door immediately slammed shut, and I heard the lock being keyed. Stuck again in the cell-like room, but at least, I had clean clothes. The bowl of cold water on the shaky shelf allowed me to do some body cleaning. Then I donned someone else’s underthings and pulled on the dress. Floor length and frilly. Someone had overdone the yardage. I wanted to unpoof the sleeves by tearing off some ofthe material, but of course I didn’t. It belonged to someone in the court. They certainly wouldn’t appreciate me redesigning their dress. And the gown was yellow. Not a color I liked to wear. Pastels never suited me. For one thing they were too easy to get dirty. Who made clothes with buttons up the back? People didn’t have dressers anymore, or did they in a royal palace? I did a lot of twisting and turning and managed to do up most of the buttons. But it was another reason why an elegant gown like this one was not my first choice for something to wear.
7.30 The Pooka’s Wife
That was not the agreement we’d made, but then I hadn’t had the opportunity to get an attorney to look over any such document. In fact, I almost chuckled over such a thought. As if a kidnappee could ask for an attorney to verify that queenly vows were valid. The guard who was walking me to my chamber had large feet and big steps. I asked him to slow down, but either he didn’t hear me, or he refused to take orders from a lowly human. The good part was that I wasn’t tied in ropes or knotted up in iron chains. The bad part was that I was still a prisoner. After a very long walk through dusty halls and cobwebs, we finally arrived at the dreaded door. Guess what. Yes, it was painted gray. Some of the doors we’d passed had been painted in cheerful colors: reds, greens, yellows . . . One even had a decorative sun painted in the center. But my gray door was plain and . . . gray, dingy gray, the exact hue you would never want to use on anything inside your house. The guard pulled a large keychain from his belt buckle, not unfastening it, but stretching it out so that he could insert the key into the gray door’s lock. The inner works clicked, and the guard threw the door open. “Get inside,” the jerk said with a threatening look on his face that said if I wasn’t spry, he was going to toss me inside and slam the door on my rear end. As the door was shut behind me and locked, I glanced about. No light. The place was dark as a cave. Touching the wall, then walking along it, I made my way to the shuttered window, and after a moment’s finger inspection, figured out how to open the wooden closure. It wasn’t a full moon night, unfortunately, but there was a partial moon, when the moon resembled a crescent cookie set in the middle of a black night full of stars. It was rather a pretty night. Of course, I tried to escape through the window, but there was not only a set of iron grids that kept me from doing so, but when I looked out, I found that I was at a height that would keep me from trying to jump even if I could. Thankfully, the moon’s light was enough to allow me to see what was inside my chamber: a full bed heaped with thick furs, a nightstand beside it with a small lamp, and on the floor, a very pretty rug with a tapestry picture of a unicorn with deer all about. The animals were doing their best to shorten the meadow grass. The rug was actually the best part of the room. I made my way toward the lamp, hoping that the bulb inside it would give me better light. No such luck. No electricity, for one thing. I think the lamp was an oil lamp, but it held no liquid inside it, and even if it had, I think matches would have been required to ignite it. By the moon’s light, I could see that the room was thankfully free from cobwebs and their busy occupants. The floor looked freshly swept, and the dust that covered the rest of the palace seemed to have left this room undisturbed. In the corner I found a chamber pot. I gagged at that. No modern plumbing? No running water. No HOT water for a bath. Oh, my. I used the pot and did the best I could to finish the process without the advantages of good old toilet paper. (Alas.) But beggars couldn’t be choosers, especially the ones who’d been kidnapped. At least, there was a bowl of water sitting on an old, wobbly shelf. I was grateful for that as I washed my face and hands.
7.29 The Pooka’s Wife
I didn’t know how long I would be at the Queen’s palace. Would Timothy find me in time, before I starved to death? I glanced at the table once more, eyeing the biscuits and the fruits. Maybe I could grab one of each and take a couple of bites. But wasn’t that what Persephone had said? If I remembered, she’d only eaten a small handful of pomegranate seeds, four of them, maybe? I sighed, turned about face, and started to walk away with the guard instructed to take me to the gray room, but then I stopped and wheeled around. “Wait, Your Majesty, you promised to let me talk to my husband if I entertained you. Where is my reward for doing so?” The queen’s cheekbones went rigid. She scowled angrily at me. I don’t think she was used to being talked back to. Not only had I denied tasting anything at her banquet table, but now I was demanding that she magic a communication, something it was obvious she didn’t want to do. For a moment, her stern, gray eyes glowered. It made her look twice her age, gave her a faint resemblance to the wicked witch of the North. (Or was that the North one, the good witch? Whichever witch in Oz that was the mean one, for sure; that’s the one the queen resembled at the moment, although she wasn’t wearing the pointy, black hat and didn’t have green skin, but oh, well.) “You impudent little girl. I said no such thing. I have no reason to . . .” the queen spouted, her saliva spitting out into the space between us, her rage was so strong.” The favorite one of her guards bent closer and whispered in her ear. The queen instantly slapped his face and hissed at him, sending him backwards so abruptly that he almost fell on his rump, only youth and grace saving him from a fall. She glanced at him, curved a sudden smile that looked more wicked than concerned for his condition, then heaved a great tea kettle of steamed indignation. “All right,” the queen finally said with a pouty expression on her face, her lips pursed so vilely they looked as if they were made out of two elongated prunes that had been exposed to the sun’s heat. Of course her lips were a pale pink instead of a wrinkly black. Then, she twisted her neck about, stretching it as if it were guilty of carrying too much tension, then did a couple of breast strokes in the air to exercise her very toned arms, and said, “Okay, you conniver, you. Tomorrow, you can play a love ballad with your Pooka. Tomorrow after you eat some breakfast.”
7.28 The Pooka’s Wife
Timothy: The guys and I discussed the situation at the table. Bob and Terry downed a pint or two, Ben sipped at his iced tea, while Daniel and I abstained from anything. I could barely sit down and found myself restlessly pacing, only to be brought back to the table with a kindly reminder from one of them that my impatience would not save Penelope. It was several hours later when Queen Moragana flashed back into the room. “We’ve found her,” she said. “Or at least we know where she was taken.” The Queen had brought her usual guards who saluted Ben, then took a stance over by the window. I was amazed that they would allow the distance they had set between the Queen and themselves, but that was only a passing thought. The major thing was that Penelope had been found. “Is she okay?” I demanded more harshly than I should have. The head guard cleared his throat and glared at me, but Queen Moragana waved him still. “She is with a minor Faery queen, one not even in her season. Queen Zamba she is called, although she has many names with which she and her people address her. She is not powerful enough to cause much grief for the Faery courts, so we more or less ignore her. But this affront is serious. It is an issue of war. My troops are assembling now. We will declare war and march on her kingdom. “And Penelope?” I asked. “Would she be safe if you attack Queen Zamba? I can’t allow . . .” The head guard lifted his head, this time aiming his pole weapon in my direction. It was a warning that I took note of. “Forgive me, my Queen,” I quickly said, lowering my head. “My words fly without heeding protocol. It is only that I am besought by worry for my dear, sweet wife.” The Queen sighed and waved the guard’s pole downward. “I will bubble your bride so she is safe. I also do not want any harm to come to her. It is a shame she has no protection, though. You have bitten her, have you not? Does she not have any magic in her? Is it too early? Or is she not a sensitive?” That was something I was wondering about myself. I’d thought on the plane that Penelope was reacting to my bite, but it had only been to the Queen’s magic, to that necklace. I would never love Penelope any less, but it would provide protection if her reaction to the Pooka serum enhanced her powers.
7.27 The Pooka’s Wife
“Well, that was certainly awful,” the queen said. “I would hope you can do better tomorrow. A song, perhaps, a dance. Henri here dances quite well. He could teach some new steps. Then you could blend in with the others when the court returns. “Oh, and we must get you out of that dreadful outfit. No one wears clothing like that. It is despicable. Surely Queen Moragana did not allow . . .” The queen’s nose wrinkled as if she were smelling something with a horrible stench. Surely my nervousness during the capture hadn’t undone my deodorant? I wanted to sniff my armpits, but I didn’t. “Let me see. Yes, Lady McGuirda has some elegant gowns that might fit you. She is near your size. “Spanda, go fetch this child some dresses, five or six should be adequate for now. Then when the tailor returns, we’ll produce a whole spectrum of gowns. Multi-hues. And the child will need hair dressings, of course, and underthings. Spanda, you know what a woman needs. Be appropriate. Lady McGuirda will not go easy on you if you make a mess of her drawers or if she finds out that you have dallied among her intimates.” “Thank you,” I said, glancing nervously at Spanda, and wondering how he got such an awful name, one that sounded like a barely there swimsuit. “But I will not be staying here long. I need to go back to my husband. He will be frantic by now. He is not friendly when someone threatens me. I’m afraid he is often quite rash, in fact.” “Don’t be silly, child,” the queen said. “The Pooka will have sense not to challenge a queen, even if he is a favored one. And we will make sure that Queen Moragana and he do not find out where you are hiding. “Oh, what fun all this is. It was so tedious before you came.” I started to mention how I had not volunteered for this side trip, but the queen, the one that still remained unnamed, was already talking to Henri about the dances she wanted him to teach me. Right then, my stomach growled so loudly it was as if I were behind a microphone giving a public service announcement: <<Train 736 is now pulling in at track C. Boarding in five minutes.> Unfortunately, the growling tummy pulled the queen’s attention from her discourse with Henri. “Why haven’t you eaten something, Penelope? Are you afraid? “It is an old wife’s tale that eating in Faery will force you to stay here forever. No one does that. People, even humans, can leave on a whim, not that they want to. You’ll find that Faery is far more pleasurable than your kingdom of magic-limited dullness.” I’d never heard a single tale about Faery. But I did remember my mythology about Persephone. She was stolen by the God of the Underworld, and in Hell there were rules about eating anything. Was the queen telling me the truth?
7.26 The Pooka’s Wife
I continued through several other tongue twisters, allowing the queen and her guards to each try to say the dillies. They had more trouble than one could imagine, but they all laughed and let me know that they were enjoying the challenge. There was a short break while drinks were drunk, the queen commanding that I also partake. When I told her I didn’t like alcohol she smirked and said, “Life would get tedious without it,” but she offered me some fruit juice instead, and I took two sips of that, not really liking the strange taste, but allowing it to wet my throat. “Give us something different,” the queen said then. I’d been hoping that the tongue twisters would be sufficient. Cara, Sammy, and I had almost been hooked off the stage at the local karaoke bar, where we were booed for our story and then our terrible voices, although Cara’s wasn’t that bad, actually. But, when a queen commands, one has little choice. I cleared my throat, took another sip of the fruit concoction: pineapple, mango, and orange with coconut milk floating on the top? I walked back to the table, set down the goblet, then turned to face my audience of four. “Well, there were these four animals who escaped from their human owners. The animals had decided to have a full night of adventure. The first animal was a donkey, the others: a cat, a dog, and a cow. The cow wanted first to go back to the barn for a night snack of some delicious hay. The donkey said that was a super idea because he was suddenly very hungry, but the dog and cat shook their heads and said that only the kitchen of a house would be the place to get proper food. The four animals argued and argued, until finally they fell into a big pile of hooves, paws, and claws. Finally, when the cow and donkey were lying on the ground panting, the dog was howling with pain, and the cat was mewing up a storm, the people came out of the house and saw the tangle of animals. The cow and the donkey were led back to the barn and given some barley hay. The dog and cat were picked up and carted back into the house where they each received an ample bowl of kibble. Inside the house’s kitchen, the cat said, “That was a great adventure,” The dog woofed in agreement as the two of them crunched away at their individual servings of food. Out in the barn, the cow told the donkey, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” The two were almost smiling as they munched away on their hay. The humans went back to bed and never once wondered why the animals had gotten into such a big fight in the middle of the backyard. But this tale just goes to show that the best of all adventures is truly found only in one’s perception of it.” I’m sorry to say that the reception this story received was equal to the one in the karaoke lounge. Only this time, there was no hook. One of the guards grunted in scorn. “Cows don’t talk,” he said.
7.25 The Pooka’s Wife
Timothy: “No!” the Queen said. “I never took your lady. She is a good match for you. I have no desire to separate you two, in fact, I want you to start breeding. You certainly cannot do that if she is whisked off someplace else. This is ridiculous.” The Queen turned to her guards, motioned one of them closer, then ordered, “Find out who has taken the young woman. Then report back. If it is one of my court, heads will roll. If it is another court that has done this evil deed, let there be war.” Without speaking, the guard flashed out, disappearing without sound or even the occasional air wrinkle that some of the Fae caused. Simply gone. I turned back to the Queen. I want . . .” “No. You do not leave this ship. That is an order from your Queen, whether you recognize me as such or not. I will not have you lost as well. One person will be easier to manage than two.” I shook my head, then went down on bended knee. “Please, I beg of you. Do not allow any harm to come to my wife. I would die without her. We are bonded, fully melded. Even absence at this time is painful.” The Queen’s face softened. Her smile had faded with the news of the kidnapping, but the lines around her mouth tightened into deeper grooves. “I remember, my dear Pooka. I remember what that was like. I would not this upon you, no matter how naughty you sometimes have been. “But before I go, I saw when I arrived that you were angry with Ben. He has told me of his loyalty to you. He had absolutely no part in this injustice. Nor did I. We will solve this puzzle, settle it, and return your love quickly.” So saying, she flashed out, leaving me no chance to further plead my case. She and her guards winked out, and I was left with my crew. I first turned to the wolves and apologized for hitting them. Terry just shrugged, but Bob said, “If it makes you feel better, sock me again. I would give my right arm to bring back Penelope.” I nodded, appreciatively. I bowed to Daniel, my staunch support at all times. Did I tell him that enough? I must be more elaborate and understanding with all of them. But then, there was only the one person I still needed to ask for forgiveness. “Pardon me, if you can, my Fae friend. Ben, it was a miscarriage of justice to think you had betrayed my trust. I am deeply sorry.” Ben gave me the briefest nod, then walked toward me. Before I knew what he was going to do, he’d thrown his arms about me and hugged me tightly.