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  Maybe being here was a good thing after all.

  "What are you laughing about?" Stilt asked.

  "Nothing," I told him.

  "The ones you're leaving behind?"

  "Hey," I said. The laugh died in my throat. "How do you know so much about me, anyway? And who are you?"

  "Stilt."

  "Very funny. I know that. But who are you?"

  "I'm an elf. Some of us do not want to see Henrik rule. Keeping you away from him is the only thing that will stop him from reaching the tipping point."

  He was frustrating me. "I thought elves were aloof and didn't meddle in the affairs of humans." When Hardy used to do his larping stuff on the weekends, the elves were always the guys who hung out in the woods and thought they were better than everyone else. It was hard to convince them to join any battles. Hardy used to tell me all about it.

  "Sometimes we do," Stilt said. He grinned. "We only do the changeling thing once in a while. And most of us don't agree with the practice, anyway."

  "The what?"

  "It's where they switch a human baby for one of theirs," the driver said. She didn't even face us. "I smell farms. We had better keep this conversation quiet."

  We rolled and squeaked closer to a small hamlet. Little houses with straw roofs gathered together in the middle of a field, surrounded by grazing cows and sheep. Another carriage with oxen waited in front of a building with a couple of barrels sitting out front. A woman in a dress and a bonnet walked in and out, a basket full of vegetables in her arms. She talked to a man in overalls and a leather hat for a moment before disappearing into the town.

  I glanced down at my dragon leggings and my T-shirt.

  "Um, Stilt?" I asked.

  "Yes?" He sounded patient.

  "They're not going to burn me at the stake for wearing these?"

  Stilt studied my leggings. "I don't think they will," he said. "But we should get you different clothing, so you don't stand out here. Henrik will have people searching for a girl in leggings for certain."

  "I agree," I said, as much as I didn't like the thought of putting on some plain dress. If these people saw a girl with dragon leggings walking around, the story would spread. King Henrik would be here with that black carriage before I got the chance to find my way back home.

  I did not want to see how old or creepy he was.

  "Do you have any money?" I asked Stilt. "Or can you steal a dress?"

  "I don't want to have to steal," Stilt said, studying the town. Smoke rose from a chimney. "This isn't the village with the King, but if someone sees you in the stolen dress, you might get punished. Punishments are not lenient here."

  "I can imagine."

  Stilt muttered something to the driver, and the carriage stopped. The horses snorted again as if glad for the break. The poor things must be tired from the epic run through town.

  Then I had an idea. "Can you buy me a dress?"

  "With what?" Stilt asked. He turned his pockets out.

  "I can weave gold," I reminded him.

  "You need something to spin. And I'm an elf. The townspeople will spot me as soon as I set foot in town. We don't appear to your kind very often unless we're offering some good shoemaking services. And then we usually only come at night." He studied the town and scooted away from me. "This town won't have any dresses for sale. The next village does. But we still need to find some twine or fabric."

  "Then what about your driver?" I asked. "Can't she go into town?"

  "No," Stilt said. Ahead, she shifted.

  I had the feeling I shouldn't push it. "I'm sure there's something in this town." The man vanished inside the building. The town was quiet this time of day. Lazy, almost. I searched the field and spotted some sheep grazing, but no one else. Everyone was inside right now. "We can look," I said, pushing my door open. "What about the sheep over there? No one's over there right now. We can steal some wool."

  I knew I was taking a considerable risk. But I couldn't stay in this carriage forever. Not if I was going to get back home.

  "With what?" Stilt asked.

  "We'll have to find something," I said. "Some shears. They've got to have those here."

  "I can probably sneak off with some of those. I'll return in a bit." Stilt got out of the other side of the carriage and walked over towards town. The air around me got a little less tingly. I swallowed. The sheep continued to graze out in the field. Getting shears was only Step One. We still had to sneak off with the wool.

  I watched Stilt walk behind the shop the woman had just used. Didn't elves have magic they could use or something? Stilt wasn't doing any of that. I stood there, waiting while he took his time. At last, he returned with something that looked like a big pair of scissors.

  "Here," he said, handing them to me. "These were easy to find. Most people are eating lunch right now. We can't linger here for long. We don't want to be here when the huntsmen get back in the evening. At least, we had better return these shears by then."

  "You were fast," I said.

  I checked the field with the sheep. All clear. The forest stayed still around them, and they continued to eat grass, oblivious to everything else around them.

  Stilt and I headed out into the field, hugging the edge of the forest and staying out of view as much as we could. The shade cooled me off a bit, and the sweat disappeared from around my brow. The air here was so pure and clean, and for the first time, I realized my sinuses weren't clogging up like normal. So this was my home universe, the one where I had spent many, many short lifetimes.

  The one I might die in. Again.

  I'd think about other things for now.

  The sheep continued grazing as if we weren't there. I walked up to the first one. The sheep back in the other world were usually dirty and dingy looking. These looked like little puffy clouds which clung to the ground. Their wool came in perfect white and gray and even brown. I spotted a sheep that appeared to be pink in the distance, but it might have been the light. There wasn't a trace of dirt on any of them.

  I figured the imaginations of humankind might have something to do with it. Who pictured dirty sheep in fairytales?

  I took the shears and lowered them to the first sheep, a brown one busy munching on a dandelion.

  "Have you ever done this before?" Stilt asked.

  "No. Wish me luck," I said and snipped.

  The sheep didn't even notice as a thick curl of brown wool fell off and landed on the ground. Stilt picked it up and ran his hand through it. "This might work."

  I snipped off another piece and another. I moved on the to the next sheep, a white one, and went to work. I didn't want to make one sheep balder than the others. I just hoped when the farmer or shepherd got back or whatever, that he wouldn't notice all the weird haircuts his flock was getting.

  I glanced at the four sheep I had snipped. Yeah. The farmer was going to notice. The gray one over there looked like it sported a Mohawk. The white one appeared to have lost a wrestling match with a lawnmower. Stilt carried a whole armload of wool. It was enough to make a decent amount of gold. We needed to go.

  "I think that's enough," Stilt said. "We should get back to the carriage. Sylvia can't leave without us."

  Sylvia. It must be her name.

  Stilt had so much wool in his hands that it looked like he was carrying a baby sheep. I kept the shears close to me, and we headed back towards the trees.

  "My father's going to take you to the judge."

  The voice made me stop. Stilt cursed, almost dropping the armload of perfect wool.

  A boy stood on the edge of the trees. He held a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. He scowled, and his cheeks flushed red. He stepped into the sun, revealing hair like straw. My heart froze, and I wondered how long it would take him to use that bow and arrow. Punishments were harsh here. I could believe that. These people might practice vigilante justice.

  "Move, please," Stilt said to the boy.

  I glanced at Stilt with a silent ques
tion. Did he have any magic up his sleeves? But either he didn't understand me, or he didn't have anything for this occasion.

  "The judge is going to sentence you to starve in the tower," the boy threatened. He took the arrow and brought it closer to the bow. We were hostages. Stilt shook his head at me. I wasn't sure what that meant. "That's what he did to the thieves who came through here two years ago. He had them sealed in, and I'm sure their skeletons are still up there, begging for food. The two of you are going to join them soon enough."

  The boy pointed with his free hand.

  He was right. A short, stubby tower made of cobblestone rose above the houses like a silent warning. I could see no window, entrance or exit.

  A wave of ice ran through me. I had no reason to believe that this boy was lying. If this was the lighter part of Fable, what was the darker one?

  "Drop the wool," the boy ordered. He put the arrow in his bow and pointed it at Stilt. He was the worst threat, being the guy.

  Stilt dropped the wool and held up both hands. The boy cocked the arrow back. My feet turned to lead. He was going to pierce Stilt's heart. Judging from the way Stilt backed up, that could kill even elves. But couldn't he do something? The guy radiated magic.

  I knew what I had to do, stupid as it was.

  "Boy," I said. "I can pay you if you let us go and shut up."

  He turned the bow and arrow on me. The point was very, very sharp. "Pay me? With what?" He stared at my leggings. "Are you a witch? My father told me to stay away from witches."

  "Which sounds like a smart choice," I told him. I couldn't stop staring at the arrow. It could go all the way through my body. "I can give you gold. You can buy whatever it is you like to buy. A new deadly weapon, maybe."

  The boy's face remained hard. I'd never seen such a serious kid. This kid should have been at Super Enrichment day, getting paint splattered on the floor.

  "Let me pick up this wool, and I can make you some gold. Right here. Right now. If I fail, you can shoot me."

  "Brie," Stilt said in a tone that meant no.

  I moved to the side a bit. Every muscle tightened. Then Stilt dove down, scooping up some wool and flinging it at me. I caught it, and the boy pulled the arrow back, ready to let go.

  "You're up to some trick," he said.

  "Do you know what?" I asked. "If I fail to get you gold in five minutes, you can shoot us both. Got it?"

  Stilt grimaced at me. I nodded at my partner in crime. I could do this. I always could.

  "Then do it," he ordered.

  I took the brown wool in my hands and separated the fibers. My hands tingled and warmed. It was working. I took a thread and twisted it into a cord, struggling to make it stay together. I had nothing to work with here. The wool was crude.

  Then I twisted the second piece of wool into a cord, and another. I sat on the grass and brought both of the sloppy lengths together. I was making a huge mistake here, but the other option was to take an arrow through the heart or starve to death in the tower.

  "Four minutes," the boy said.

  "Calm down," Stilt told him. "You'll benefit from this."

  I bound the two fibers together, making another braid. The heat intensified in my hands, getting uncomfortable, but I had reached the point where I couldn't stop. I wound the braid into a ring, tied it together, and squinted as the light flashed in my hands.

  And faded.

  I held a golden coin with a castle carved on the front.

  "Here," I told the boy, handing it to him. "Here's your gold. Now you have to honor your end of the bargain and let us go without a word."

  And I dropped the coin on the ground and stood.

  The boy lowered his bow for a second, staring at it.

  "Wow," he said. Wonder had overtaken him. "That's a farthing. A real farthing!"

  "Your end of the bargain," Stilt reminded him.

  The boy left the coin on the ground. Then he glared at all the sheep. The one with the Mohawk wandered over to the one that lost the lawnmower battle and sunk to the ground, ready for a nap.

  "How do I explain to my father why our sheep are missing so much wool?" he asked. "He'll birch me for sure for not watching them more closely."

  I deflated inside. I could see where this was going.

  "Birch?" I asked, facing Stilt.

  He grinned. "It's punishment. It involves a birch stick and bare buttocks."

  I sighed. "Will a few more coins make your birching worth it?"

  The boy smiled, devilish. "Maybe."

  I eyed our carriage, still waiting on the side of the distant road. One of the horses went to lie down. They were getting bored, and someone was bound to come by sooner or later. I was digging myself into a deeper and deeper hole here. How long would this boy keep his mouth shut?

  "And you're going to be extra, extra quiet after I do this?" I asked.

  "Maybe."

  "Stilt," I said. I needed some backup here.

  He thought for a second. "If you are not extra, extra, extra quiet, I just may peddle you to the other elves. They could always use a slave to guard their herds."

  The boy raised his bow again, and Stilt held up his hands.

  "How many coins?" I asked.

  "A dozen!" he shouts at me. "A dozen, and I'll stay quiet for as long as I live."

  "Then don't hurt him." The thought of that sent panic through me. Stilt helped me get away from those knights, even if he was frustrating. He didn't deserve an arrow through the chest.

  I got to work, and my hands burned more and more with each new coin I made and dropped to the ground. They clinked against each other. We were running out of wool for ourselves, and we might not have enough left for me to buy a blend-in period costume. I should have raided the drama club's storeroom before I came here.

  I flung the last coin down on the pile, glad to be rid of it. "There you go. Now the two of us are leaving." I gathered the last of the wool--there might be enough for six or seven more coins--and slid the shears towards the boy with my foot. I'd be pushing it if I took them with me.

  "Go," he said. "If I need gold, I will find you."

  I didn't like the sound of that. I walked quickly along the trees, clutching the soft wool as hard as I could between my hands. I waited for the zing of the arrow, but it never came.

  "That was good back there," Stilt said, "but we need to hurry to the next village. We can't stay here with him knowing your secret. But at least we will have gold by the time we get there."

  I knew what my job was going to be on the way. Both horses were lying down now and the driver hunched low, trying to shield herself from the heat of the sun. It was mid-afternoon. I glanced back to see the boy standing there in front of his herd, bow still in hand as if daring us to go back and challenge him.

  Yes. We needed to go, or that kid was going to blackmail us to death.

  My hands ached. If it hadn't been for my ability, I would have been dead.

  I had died lots of times because I couldn't spin gold if Stilt were right.

  What was I without my ability?

  Stilt and I climbed back into the carriage. I wrung my hands out, and the ache faded a bit. Stilt whispered something to Sylvia, and she cracked the reins. The horses dragged themselves off the ground and started walking again. I felt terrible for the poor things. They couldn't catch a break.

  Like me.

  I just got used all over again.

  I had to ask the question. "Stilt, how much do you want me to pay you for this?"

  He held up a hand and watched the village pass. "Nothing."

  "Nothing? You're kidding, right?"

  "I don't like gold. It causes more trouble than it's worth. It's true in the other world, and it's even truer here. Haven't you heard of the golden goose and the golden children? Or the golden apples and the golden bird?"

  "I've had enough of gold, too," I said. "You're right. Life sucks because of it."

  Stilt looked at me, begging me to believe him. He must h
ave wanted something. If I knew anything about fae, it was that they did nothing for free, ever, and they usually tried to screw you over in the worst possible ways. Stilt was an elf.

  If that didn't fall under the fae category, I wasn't sure what did.

  "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

  He nodded. "I'm certain, Brie." He glanced down at my hand, then back up to me. "If I ventured into the dark region, I might. The different regions have effects on our natures. Elves in the light region are usually kind and love to help out. But put one of us in the dark region, and we change in a matter of days. It brings out all of our worst traits."

  "That's nice to know," I said. "So you don't have any free will?"

  Stilt shook his head. "Well, we can decide what region we want to inhabit. After that, it's history." He smiled. "At least we didn't end up shut in that tower."

  "I agree." I was starting to relax around Stilt. We were leaving the small hamlet behind along with that boy, but I was sure he was watching us go.

  "So...how many people in the other world knew about what you can do?" he asked.

  "My adoptive parents. Unfortunately. Until they found out I could spin gold, they kept me for tax reasons." I knew I shouldn't be telling all this to some elf, but at the same time, it felt good to get it out.

  Stilt's gaze fell to the floor. "I'm sorry. I really, truly am."

  "Sorry? It's not your fault my parents are greedy jerks."

  He said nothing to that.

  "What about you? Where are you from?" I asked.

  "Fable." There he was again, dodging my questions. "Until Henrik found out the truth about this place, I didn't think there was another world."

  "What I want to know is how I got over there in the first place if I was born here." I watched the town vanish behind us to be blocked by another small forest. The world stayed as bright as ever, but the sun was starting to creep towards the horizon. Night in Fable must be full of scary things. Didn't people have to stop and stay with strangers for the night? There had to be thieves who would cut your throat for your money or beasts that came out at night and tried to drag you away. This carriage wouldn't protect us with its open window in the back.