Attempt #19

Quentin tried not to look nervous and sensed that he was failing.

"The sweet little boy from Brakebills," purred Marina. "What can we do for you?"

"Marina. I ..." He took a deep breath. "I need your help."

Marina looked him over. "I bet you do."

"I mean ... I need to get to Fillory, and I can't do it on my own."

The hedge witches laughed. "Fillory?" said a tall blond male witch. "What are you, ten years old?"

"This is Pete, Brakebills Boy," said Marina.

"My name is Quentin."

"This is Pete, Quentin. Pete, this is Quentin. He's from Brakebills."

Marina and Pete and the other hedge witches smirked at him. Quentin forced himself to speak. "Look. Fillory is real. It's a real place. It's where all the missing Third Years are. My ... my friend, Penny, he's a traveler, he went there and saw one of them. Victoria."

Marina looked at him sharply. "Victoria?"

"Yeah? You know her? Victoria?"

"There was a first year named Victoria when I was at Brakebills," shrugged Marina. "Doesn't mean anything."

"Victoria is a traveler," Quentin said. "Travelers are rare."

"You could have picked her out of a yearbook."

"Brakebills has yearbooks?" Quentin said, confused.

Marina rolled her eyes. "Look, why don't you be a good boy and go back to school. The grownups have shit to do."

"No! Look! I need to get to Fillory. My friends are all there and I can't ... please."

Pete spoke. "You say your friends are in Fillory. How did they get there?"

"The button! We found the button."

Before anyone could stop him or kick him out, Quentin launched into the story of the button: how they had gone to England, found Plover House, retrieved the lost button. "When you touch it," he gabbled, "it takes you to this place, this in-between place full of fountains. And each fountain is a world. All you have to do is jump in. One of the fountains leads to Fillory."

Pete and Marina looked at each other. "If we help you," said Marina, "what do we get in return?"

"What do you want?"

"The book," said Marina. "The book you and your friend took back to Brakebills."

"Done," said Quentin quickly.

"And its mate."

"Fine!"

Marina looked at him speculatively. Finally she said, "All right."

"What?"

"All right. We'll help you."

"Seriously? Oh my god. That's great. That's great. Okay. Let's get started."

"No worries, Brakebills Boy. I know what we have to do."

"You do?"

"Oh yes."

She did know. Quentin was, perhaps unfairly, surprised at what she knew. The spell she described was vast, intricate, and far beyond his abilities. "Time travel?" Quentin said incredulously. "Are you kidding?"