Fairy Haven and the Quest for the Wand Read online

  Tutupia ran her hand over a tray. “Aren’t they pretty?”

  Tink thought they were. They were metal, after all.

  Ree said, “Why aren’t they making mischief?” No one was controlling them now.

  “They can’t do anything unless someone holds them. Oh, they can wiggle a bit, nothing more.”

  “Can I touch one?” Tink asked, eager to see how potlike they were.

  “Better not until you pick one, and I put it to—”

  “—sleep. Are these your spares?”

  “These are our new wands, little Rani. Young fairies find their first wands here, and sometimes an experienced fairy wants a change.”

  Ree and Tink flew over the wands. Rani picked her way between the trays. Some wands were plain metal sticks, but others were encrusted with jewels. A few were a yard long. Most were about fifteen inches. Several were considerably shorter.

  “When I put the wand to sleep,” Tutupia said, “it will obey commands, but it won’t be able to reverse them. Sleeping wands can’t. It’s too confusing for them. So if Soop, or anyone else, commands the wand to do something, the command will be permanent.”

  “Can an awake wand reverse a command?” Tink asked.

  “Yes. But an awake wand won’t obey Soop or any of you. It will obey only one of us. So Soop’s commands will be irreversible. Make sure she understands that.”

  “How does she give a command?” Ree asked.

  “She must think what she wants very clearly, and the wording must be exact because a sleeping wand will do precisely what it’s told. An awake wand with a big heart and an easy mind will make allowances and grant its wielder’s true wish, but a sleeping wand won’t be able to.”

  “I see,” Ree said. Wands were complicated.

  “Sometimes it helps to say the command out loud, to get the wording right. Then Soop must wave the wand.”

  Tink enjoyed every new rule.

  “An awake wand has to suit its wielder,” Tutupia said. “A fairy may audition a dozen wands before she finds one that’s right for her. The wand and its wielder needn’t be alike, either. A generous fairy, for example, may be well served by a stingy wand.”

  A stingy wand! Tink thought, marveling.

  “Even a disagreeable wand can find its fairy, but…” Tutupia clasped her hands rapturously. “…there’s nothing better than a bighearted wand. I do hope you choose one with a big heart. I hope, I hope, I hope.” Her tone turned practical. “Since these particular wands have never been used, I can’t tell you about their characters.”

  Rani passed a gold wand with copper stripes. She wanted to pick a good one, too, but she didn’t know how to choose. They had nothing to go on. Maybe Soop would like a jeweled wand, or maybe not. Rani didn’t care what metal the wand was made of, and the wand could be any size. The balloon carrier could accommodate the biggest wand here.

  “Do any of them understand Mermish?” Tink asked.

  “Wands understand every language.”

  That was no help. They felt rushed. The Home Tree might be flooded halfway up its trunk by now.

  “Look at this one,” Rani said, pointing.

  Tink and Ree came to see. It was a thin silver wand, three inches long, with a squiggly engraving that ran its length. The first thought they each had was that it was small enough for them to wave.

  They didn’t see how reckless its squiggle was, how peppy its shine. Of course they couldn’t see its character—its mind, which thrummed with mischief and a large dollop of spite, or its weak, chilly heart.

  They paid no attention to the silver wand’s neighbor, a brass wand that was three inches longer. It was a far better choice, with a loose curve and a relaxed air, a kindly heart and a tolerant mind.

  The questers invented reasons for their preference. Rani told herself that the silver wand’s squiggle looked like ocean spray, which Soop would enjoy. Tink thought its size would make it easier to examine. Ree felt virtuous for judging that a smaller, lighter wand would shorten the trip home.

  They were already in the grip of wand madness.

  Ree said, “We’ll take this one.”

  They couldn’t have made a worse choice.

  S E V E N

  RANI FORGOT she wasn’t supposed to touch. She picked up the small silver wand to see how heavy it was—but it had other ideas.

  She was flying again! For a moment she was exhilarated. Then the wand bucked. It jerked. She was above it. She was below. She was sideways.

  She shrieked and attempted to straddle the wand, but it was flipping about too much.

  Tutupia plucked it out of the air and set Rani back down on the table.

  “Are you all right?” Ree cried.

  Rani nodded, gasping for breath.

  Tink asked, “What was it—”

  “—like? Strong!”

  “Are you a strong little wand?” Tutupia sniffed the wand and stroked it. She licked it. She rolled it between her palms. It jumped and jiggled. She murmured, “Will you be good to the little fairies and the mermaid?”

  She touched it with her own wand. Sparks flew between them. “Sleep. Sleeeeeep. Sleeeeeeeep, little wand.”

  The wand resisted as long as it could but finally gave in and slept.

  “If anything goes wrong,” Tutupia said, “let us know. Fuff and I will zip over to your Ever Land and set things right.”

  “Never Land,” Ree said. “I’m sure all will be—”

  “—well. Don’t inconvenience yourselves.”

  “We’d be happy to come. Queen Ree, I’d love to see your itty-bitty queendom.”

  In her most regal manner, Ree replied, “Then you must come for a state visit…someday, when Fairy Haven can receive you properly.”

  Tutupia beamed. “Thank you.” She waved her wand, and the balloon carrier appeared, floating above the wand table. She lifted Rani and placed her and the sleeping wand inside.

  Ree said the Never fairy farewell: “Fly again soon.”

  Then Tink and Ree picked up the balloon-carrier cord and began to fly toward the door.

  “What are you doing?” Tutupia cried, astonished.

  “Going home.” Tink tugged her bangs. She didn’t know what she’d do if Tutupia delayed them again.

  Tutupia laughed. “You have a wand now. It will take you home in a—”

  “—flash.” Rani felt foolish for not thinking of this.

  Ree and Tink did, too. The wand could save Fairy Haven days of flooding.

  “Who wants to try it out? Queen Ree, the honor is yours.”

  “Er…” Ree didn’t want to do it. She intended to keep her pledge to Mother Dove to make only one wish, and she didn’t want to use it up. “I’ll pass the honor to Tink. Her talent is more suited to wands.”

  Tink didn’t want to use up her wish, either. Feeling like a traitor, she said, “Rani can wave it. She should be the one to take us to the—”

  “—lagoon.” Rani looked reproachfully at Tink. “Queen Tutupia, could you wave your wand and send us home?”

  “Certainly, I can.” Tutupia shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like you little fairies. Everybody else is itching to wave a wand.”

  “Mmm,” Ree said.

  Rani asked, “Could you send us to a particular spot on Never Land, the bank of Havendish Stream, just over the border of Fairy Haven?” They could each wave the wand there before going to the lagoon.

  “Havendish Stream.” Tutupia waved her wand in a grand gesture.

  The Never fairies didn’t move an inch.

  Tutupia looked puzzled. She waved her wand again.

  The Never fairies didn’t budge.

  Tutupia addressed her wand. “No tricks. I am your master.” She waved it.

  “Is your wand broken?” Tink said eagerly. Perhaps she could fix it. It would be the experience of a lifetime even to try.

  Tutupia turned away from the fairies and waved her wand. A magnolia tree, laden with blossoms, filled the wand room
, its trunk butting against the mahogany table.

  Ree wondered if she should use her wish to replace the Home Tree with something showier, more impressive.

  “My wand is being blocked,” Tutupia said.

  The questers knew only one force strong enough to block a wand: Never Land. It didn’t want them to get there on a wand wave.

  “I’ll try one more time.” Tutupia held the wand close to her lips. “Send these Never fairies to their Havendish Stream. Conquer impediments.” She waved it.

  Nothing happened.

  Ree and Tink took up the balloon-carrier cord again and began to fly out of the room.

  Tutupia frowned. Her wand hand twitched. She restrained herself and burst out, “Don’t you puny fairies ever say thank you?”

  Ree and Tink stopped flying and hovered.

  “No, we don’t,” Tink said, unaware of Tutupia’s anger. “Clumsies say—”

  Ree saw Tutupia’s frown deepen. “Of course we’re very grateful to you. Without your help, our situation would have been hopeless. You have the gratitude of the Never fairies.”

  Tutupia was completely mollified. She waved her wand again, and a picnic basket appeared in the carrier. “In case you get hungry.” A jug settled down next to the basket. “In case you get—”

  “—thirsty. You’ve equipped us marvelously,” Rani said, hoping to forestall more cargo.

  But the compliment went to Tutupia’s head. She added pillows, blankets, and books. Rani moved over to make room for everything.

  “Mementos of the queen of the Great Wanded fairies.”

  Mercifully, the shower of gifts stopped. Tink and Ree began to pull the carrier cord. Tutupia said farewell.

  The questers flew out of the castle. Tink and Ree put all their strength into their wing muscles, but they could fly no faster than a plump pelican. The carrier sagged from the weight of Tutupia’s gifts, and the wind was against them.

  E I G H T

  IN FAIRY HAVEN, the water was an inch deep, up to the knees of the fairies. In the dells and dingles it was an inch and a half deep. This may not seem serious, but if a fairy fell out of the air, her wings would become waterlogged and she would have to struggle to stand up. Fairies have drowned in puddles.

  Two dozen water talents were keeping the Home Tree dry, for now. A squad of mud talents was building a dike around it. They held their wings high, their shoulders aching.

  Beyond the dike, artist Bess had spread out a canvas on which she’d painted a desert scene so convincing that the ground under it stayed dry. Nearby, a squad of cooking talents used fairy dust to boil the floodwater as soon as it bubbled up. Most of it evaporated, creating a thick fog.

  But these successes were limited. Most of Fairy Haven was wet.

  The animal talents had saved as many earthworms as they could, but fewer and fewer of the creatures were reaching the surface. Beck was rounding up the moles and leading them to safety.

  While the fairies worked, their thoughts were with the questers, wondering if a wand was on the way. Everyone tried to think of an excuse to borrow it before it descended into the lagoon forever.

  Vidia, cooped up in Rani’s room, was being driven wild by Rani’s leaky ceiling. She was about to stuff Rani’s pet minnow into the leak—when she had a better idea. She flew to the ceiling and used the thumbtack heel of her left shoe to enlarge the pinprick hole. Plaster chips fell into Minnie’s tub.

  Prilla had been helping Dulcie bake vast sheets of sponge cake to mop up floodwater, when it occurred to her that her own talent might end the flood. She pictured the imaginary tunnel that took her to the mainland. She blinked through it and flew above the heads of Clumsy children at a puppet show, calling out to them, “Clap to make the flood dry up in Fairy Haven!”

  Most looked up and clapped.

  She blinked to the rehearsal of a school play. “Clap to end the fairies’ flood!”

  The young actors clapped.

  She blinked to four children playing Go Fish. “Clap to lower the water in Fairy Haven!”

  The four clapped.

  Prilla returned to Fairy Haven. The water had risen another quarter inch. But maybe without her it would have risen a half inch. She blinked away again.

  Mother Dove was alone. Beck had brought lunch, but then had to return to the moles. Mother Dove longed to fly to the questers, keep them on course, remind them that effort was better than wishes. But she couldn’t leave the egg unless her own wish came true. The egg needed the warmth of her body. She could leave a chick for a while but not an egg.

  The wind was so strong that Ree and Tink made almost no headway against it.

  Rani noticed neither the wind nor the sag of the carrier. She saw only the wand at her feet. She bent down for it.

  “Rani!”

  Rani dropped the wand guiltily and turned.

  Tink was flying backward, her ponytail blown against her right cheek. “Rani, wish for new wings so you can help us.”

  Rani wanted new wings. She missed flying and hated having to depend on Brother Dove or other fairies to take her everywhere. But she wanted friendship with Soop more than she wanted wings.

  She saw how low the carrier was flying. “I’ll throw Queen Tutupia’s presents over.” She jettisoned them all, except the picnic basket, which weighed little.

  The carrier bobbed higher, but they gained almost no speed.

  “Rani,” Tink said, “we need another pair of—”

  “—wings. The wind will die down soon.”

  Tink didn’t even tug her bangs. She just looked disgusted and turned to fly forward again.

  Consumed by wand madness, Rani didn’t care. She reached for the wand.

  “Rani!”

  Hugging the wand defiantly, Rani faced Ree.

  “I command…” Ree touched her tiara. She hardly ever issued commands. There were better ways to rule. “I command you to wish for new—”

  “—wings. I won’t.” Rani had never disobeyed Ree before. “Why don’t you wish for them for me? You can wish it as easily as I can.”

  Ree didn’t want to give her wish to Rani so Rani could have whatever she wanted and wings, too. Tink didn’t either and was furious—at herself for not being generous and at Rani for being selfish.

  With as much dignity as she could muster, Ree said, “I’ll discuss your contrariness…” She didn’t want to call it more than that. “…later.”

  Rani closed her eyes and thought, Make Soop think of me as her friend. Make her like me. Make her like me very much. She waved the wand.

  As had become her custom, Soop was in a tower room of the mermaids’ castle, scanning the sea for a tiny fairy with a wand. Abruptly, she found herself regretting her harsh words to the fairy. And she’d yelled at her. That had certainly been a mistake. Rani might be a fairy, but she was a superior one, worthy of a mermaid’s friendship.

  Soop wondered if she should stop flooding Fairy Haven. It wasn’t polite to drown your friend’s home.

  But her anger was stronger than her goodwill. The flood was on until the wand was delivered. Mermaids weren’t to be trifled with.

  However, if Rani did return, Soop would give her a warm welcome.

  Rani put down the wand, satisfied. She breathed deeply. My first breath, she thought, as a mermaid’s friend. She didn’t feel different, but she knew she was different. She brushed away a tear—and remembered her argument with Tink and Ree.

  Now she recognized how slowly they were moving. At this rate it would take a month just to reach the sea, and their fairy dust would run out long before then. Ahead of her, she saw the strain in Tink’s shoulders. She saw Ree kick the air fruitlessly.

  I should have wished for wings, she thought.

  She still could.

  Wand madness crept back in. She thought Mother Dove might approve of this second wish, since it was to help end the flood.

  She raised the wand. She’d never before broken a promise to Mother Dove.

  N I N E


  CLUMSY HOUSES, farms, factories, and roads passed beneath the carrier at a maddeningly slow rate.

  Give me wings that can fly through the air and swim in the water. Rani had a new thought. Make me able to breathe and speak in both air and water. She waved the wand.

  Was that three wishes? she wondered. Did I break my promise twice?

  Ah. She wept glad tears as she joined Tink and Ree at the carrier cord. Flying was as wonderful as weeping!

  Mother Dove felt Rani’s extra wishes, although she didn’t know what they were. Impetuous Rani, she thought. The first promise breaker.

  “Clap to dry up the flood!” Prilla flew down the aisle of a school bus. She heard clapping as she blinked away.

  She landed on the shoulder of a Clumsy woman who stood at a window next to a Clumsy man. Prilla looked around the room. They were in a child’s bedroom, but there was no child.

  How odd. Prilla had never arrived in a place without a child. There was no point to it. Adult Clumsies couldn’t see or hear her.

  She was about to blink away, but before she did, she saw, through the open window, a Clumsy girl sitting motionless on a swing in the backyard.

  “Why doesn’t she swing?” the woman said. “Why doesn’t she play? Why is it she never laughs?”

  Prilla thought there was something familiar about the girl.

  The man said, “Dr. Barry says there’s nothing wrong with Sara.”

  Sara? Prilla thought. The name was familiar, too, although it wasn’t a fairy name. She flew outside. “Clap to end the flood.”

  Her face dull, Sara raised her hands to clap. Then she saw Prilla. She clapped wildly and laughed and began to swing and clap at the same time.

  Prilla felt a quiver in her chest. She landed in the child’s lap and wondered why she felt as cozy there as she did snuggled in Mother Dove’s feathers.

  The girl must have been her laugher! Sara Quirtle was her name. A baby’s first laugh flits away from the baby and turns into a fairy. Usually the two don’t encounter each other again.

  As Sara Quirtle swung and laughed, Prilla looked at the house. In the window, she saw Sara Quirtle’s parents watching and laughing, too. They hugged.