An old diary is given to the new owners of a house in Cambria, California. Designed by famous architect Julia Morgan, it has some oddities - including a spiral staircase in the backyard, leading to nowhere. What they discover involves old Welsh magi...
Ryo politely inquired if there was somewhere he and Kirin could spend some time together, and Abe showed them the guest room upstairs. All I'll say is that for a quiet and calm Buddhist monk, that young man was as loud as Liberace's wardrobe during their hour together. When he did leave, he promised to bring some new bedsheets when he returned with the larger bells.
"Fireproof, please!" Anne shouted from the kitchen, where she was making roulades from the hare meat that Maddow the butcher had provided. I'd helped her chop some Honeycrisp apples to add to the raisins, fresh gooseberries and her homemade honey mustard for the filling. She'd checked with Abe to be certain all the ingredients were ones that the Teg normally ate.
I asked her why she'd gone to such lengths, to which she replied: "If she's as well-connected as you say she is, and is also the town's grand dame of gossip, the last thing we want is her telling everyone that our meal was inedible." An answer that I couldn't dispute. When she's right, which is often, she's absolutely right.
"Hon, isn't the table a little, well, jumbo-sized for them? Is there something you can, I don't know, cobble together? I'd hate to have them..."
"Annie, they're child-sized, not Tinkerbell tiny!" I realized that what with the Siege and her poisoning and the roofers and our house demon dragon, I hadn't totally filled her in on my meeting the Tylwyth Teg. As I began mashing some parsnips, carrots and acorn squash together (Idle hands aren't allowed in my sweetheart's kitchen) I gave her more details.
I set the table with our best bone china plates, that were delicately traced with ivy and small blue forget-me-nots, and my grandmother's silverware from Constantinople. I'd just gotten the fire going in the drawing room when I heard the sound of a wind quartet and opened the front door. The sound was coming from a mid-sized flying vehicle that appeared to be made from a giant horseshoe crab shell, upended and carrying five Teg.
Behind them in the shell was an engine that seemed to suck in silver dust from the surrounding air and exited from the bottom and the end via several metal pipes as music. It landed gently on the lawn, as the four guests hopped out. Well, three of them. Ms. Tansy waited for the driver to assist her, though I was certain she didn't need any.
Both she and Mr. Maddox (who was looking very dapper out of his butcher's attire) looked up at the roof, then looked at each other. Maddox motioned to his daughter Glenda, while Owen with astonishment said, "That is so cool!" only to have Ms. Tansy grab his ear and yank him towards me.
"There is a dragon guarding your house," she said with a very slight tinge of annoyance mixed with incredulity.
"Well, Ms. Tansy, the last owner of this house was named Bertha Draconis. Kirin is here as a precautionary measure against future attacks by the High Queen and Princess. Or haven't you heard about it yet?"
Anne picked that moment to swoop in and stop me from saying anything stupid or incendiary. "Hello, please do come in. You all are welcome in this house. I'm Anne Bellefleur. You must be Nettle Tansy and Owen!" And my wife curtsied as if she were at court. Anne never curtsies.
Her quaint gesture was greeted by a trill of chuckles. "No curtsies, please. They make me seem as old as Mab, instead of 1,524."
"Maddox Maddow, and this is my daughter Glenda." He bowed, Glenda curtsied, and Nettle chuffed. I wanted to thank those two right then and there. "Owen, will you...where did my grandson get to?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Annie. "Oh, I just love your hair..." and she went off chatting with Glenda into drawing room. Maddox was looking at woodwork in the ceiling. "Beautiful craftsmanship!" he said.
"For humans, yes," pooh-poohed Nettle, "Someone please find Owen before he breaks something."
As if on cue, there was a clamor in the kitchen. "Give it to me, you ugly piece of parasitic..."
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As soon as I saw what was happening, I yanked the brat out of the air and propelled him right into a chair. At the far corner stood Abe, clutching Anne's jar of 'emergency' chocolate that had been on top of the refrigerator. (Please – don't you have a secret stash of emergency sweets hidden away somewhere?) Owen clutched a wooden spoon, and Abe's face and hands showed signs of a beating.
In my most menacing tone, I began my ultimatum: "If you're hungry, dinner will be served very soon. I could tell your grandmother what's happened, or you could apologize to Abe, who stopped that jar from breaking, and who you beat up so you could eat something that doesn't belong to you. What will it be?"
"Me? Apologize to a shitty housebound turd of a Teg? What makes you think you can boss me around? You're nothing but a lowly human, not good enough to even wipe goblin shit from my shoes!"
And I slapped him. Hard. The look of surprise, the shock of pain showing on his face brought me no joy. He began to bawl. All I could think of was Nettle Tansy trashing our reputation throughout Cambria Colony, Annie and I with our ragtag group of Teg and human supporters facing Mab's minions all alone. Then I heard the clapping.
It was Nettle herself. She walked over from the arch leading to the drawing room and took my hands. Her eyes were shining. "Young woman, you have just done what I have wanted to do – what I should have done so long ago – but haven't the heart or courage to. But you! You have the resolve of a Danaan!"
"But Grammy! She hit me!" cried Owen.
"You deserved it. That's what you'll get every time you're cruel, unkind or ill mannered. Now, go sit at the dining table. I believe..."
"Oh, no," I said firmly, "He still needs to apologize to Abe!"
Nettle looked at me as if I were feeble-minded and gave a nervous laugh. "Surely you don't expect an elf to apologize to a...a bwbach?"
"I do, and he will. Abe is a member of this household, and a friend. I expect him to be treated as one." Take that, you pompous old elf! I thought. I saw Anne, Maddox and Glenda watching from the other room.
Owen stood up slowly, wiped a few remaining tears from his cheeks, and walked over to Abe. He knelt so as to be face to face with him, and said in a clear albeit tremulous voice, "This elf apologizes. This elf is sorry to have struck you. This elf understands that he behaved badly, and offers you this spoon, for you to strike me if it be your wish." He held out the utensil to Abe.
Abe smiled gently and replied: "This bwbach accepts your apology. This bwbach knows you are very young and asks if you might consider accepting his friendship rather than receiving a punishment. Better it is to show kindness than retribution."
Owen, who obviously had expected to be struck several times, looked at Abe with a puzzled expression and then smiled weakly. "This elf accepts this bwbach's friendship!"
