A MOUTH FULL

“Shall we sit down, then?” The Lady suggested, all smiling poise again, as if nothing at all were amiss.

We followed her to the table, spread with an array of food I can’t hope to adequately describe, though, even now, the memory compels me to try. It’s a strange memory. Folklore speaks about the delights and dangers of ‘fairy food’ in terms any rational man must assume fictional, but I can assure you that all assertions about its delights, at least, are entirely true. That morning, Piper had insisted the inexplicably delicious little breakfast she’d prepared for me at their Temanghath was flavored by nothing more magical than hunger and contrast with less wholesome eating habits. Maybe she’d been telling the truth—about that breakfast—but the meal I shared that night with The Lady and her guests was clearly something altogether different.

If you’re familiar with the Japanese genius for presentation, start there and add the finest, most nuanced flavor combinations that French or Italian cuisines can hope to offer. Then make all the textures twice as vivid and delightful, the tastes three times as intriguing and intense and…you still won’t have more than a vague idea.

I’ve tried before to capture that meal in words—just for myself—but it’s like trying to define what’s outside the universe. I’ve come to suspect that this is because that meal didn’t really happen just on my physical palate. My first mouthful of some floral-form hors d’oeuvre that seemed, both in appearance and texture, what all other pastry aspires hopelessly to be, was filled with what may have been deliciously spiced shellfish or an exquisitely seasoned paste of nutmeats and mushrooms—I wasn’t sure. But it eclipsed everything else happening around me. I have a vague, unsettling memory of…groaning aloud, possibly, and…grabbing several more of them from the platter in front of me.

Not until some time and at least several courses later did I suddenly register the curtains of flower-bedecked foliage cascading halfway to the ground around our table, and look up to see an open sky full of diamond-bright stars where I was…fairly sure there had been a candle-studded chandelier hanging from a very solid ceiling when we’d first sat down. Was this illusion of night sky some form of dinner entertainment…or had the ceiling I remembered been illusory? … the only place that any real thing you have ever experienced—with any of your physical senses—actually ever happened to you. As Piper’s words beneath the Tree that afternoon came back to me, I wondered how much of this meal was really happening only in my mind? What were the others experiencing here?

I glanced around at my tablemates, who were nibbling casually at one delicacy or another as they conversed, seeming virtually unaware of me. Then I looked down at my hands, sticky with the headily scented juice of an all but demolished amber-colored fruit lying on my plate atop the peels and pits and little bones or twigs of whatever I’d been eating before that. There were napkins of raw silk in all our laps, which I used hastily to clean my hands…and my face a bit, as discreetly as possible. I wasn’t really sure how many of these indescribable courses I’d even sampled at that point, let alone how much I might have eaten altogether. The boy you are now would likely have a wolfish appetite—and no great concern for manners. So, no need to hold back. Rain had known how this meal was going to affect me. Had he intended that remark as some kind of absolution in advance, or just been amusing himself by mocking me for what he’d known was coming?

I felt my cheeks flame in embarrassment. Was I the entertainment at this dinner? The Lady’s trained, if none too civilized Andinol monkey? Never seen fairy food before, young man? I set my napkin back in my lap, and kept my hands clenched on top of it, determined to eat not one more bite here—though every item before me still seemed to sing my name. I didn’t even feel very full—which made me wonder again how much of this was just being manufactured in my head without ever reaching my gut. The evening felt more like living in a dream with every passing moment. Was this what Piper had meant? Did they feel this way all the time? Hungry—but not full? Half immersed and half outside of what was happening to them?

I realized Mikayl was watching me. He offered me a knowing smile when I glanced back. “Can you be full already?” he asked, as The Lady and Rain turned their attention back to me as well. I braced myself for jokes at my expense now. “It’s been such a pleasure to behold the zest for everything I too experienced so vividly in youth,” he said wistfully. “So easy to take life’s pleasures for granted as the years go by.” His tone became avuncular. “Your obvious delight in this marvelous meal has reminded me to take better note of it myself, and of my good fortune to share this table’s delightful company. Thank you for that, Matthew.”

If this was mockery, it was well disguised. I could find nothing but apparent warmth in his voice, or on his face. The Lady looked genuinely charmed. Even Rain smiled, grudgingly.

“So,” The Lady said. “Is it time, perhaps, to address what’s brought us here?”

“Yes, of course.” Mikayl’s smile faded. “I must also congratulate you, Matthew, on seeming to have come through your ordeal in better shape than most.”

Having no idea what he thought ‘my ordeal’ might have been, exactly, or what kind of shape ‘most’ came through it in, it took no skill to look confused and let my gaze wander back across the food—still singing to me, even now.

“That is precisely why we need your help,” The Lady told Mikayl. “Unlike poor Jordan, Matthew has retained more than ample wit to pose a threat to Anselm, should he…remember what occurred.”

“Ah,” Mikayl said quietly. “He does not then?”

She shook her head. “But, even if Anselm knows that, he will never let it rest there. You’ll have heard by now, I’m sure, of this morning’s dreadful events.”

Mikayl nodded, seeming to abort a mournful glance at Rain. “Anselm’s making himself heard, of course, but do not worry, Lady. No one whose opinion matters is at all confused.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” she said sadly. “There’s been a story circulated by ourselves as well, passing off what happened as another of Piper’s pranks gone awry. The tale was her idea, actually, but don’t believe it. We’ve resorted to such measures only to conceal Matthew’s presence here. Better to let them think it was Piper that Rain was escorting home.”

“You have a very stalwart daughter, Lady. What an awful time she’s had of it these past few weeks.” Mikayl turned to me again. “Not to mention you, poor lad. This must all be very strange, and rather frightening, eh?”

Rain had given me so many instructions before dinner, which now seemed hours ago. Had he told me not to answer questions? No, just to answer…without elaboration. But I’d managed—several times already—to screw up without speaking at all. What could I say to this that would be safe—and convincingly ‘teenaged?’ “…It’s not that scary,” I punted. “Rain did a great job of protecting me this morning. The food is good. …I like it here.”

“Good lad!” Mikayl said. “Dance with life! That’s what I always say.”

Rain humphed, as if to let me know my beating wouldn’t be so easily averted.

“Obviously, we cannot keep him here much longer,” said The Lady. “But neither can we turn him out defenseless against Anselm’s agents. The event has left him quite alone, I fear.”

Mikayl tutted as he forked up a sauce-drenched slice of fish on his plate.

“If he is to resume life safely among his own kind,” she concluded, “it would seem he must be taught to recognize our kind and hide effectively from Anselm’s instruments.”

“A tall order,” Mikayl said, his forkfull suspended in midair. “How do you plan to equip an Andinol boy for such tasks?”

“We were hoping you would help us. You and your boys, perhaps.”

Mikayl set his bite of fish back down, nonplussed.

“Few of us are more gifted than you and your family are,” she said. “And given your well-known interest in the Andinalloi, it would seem strange to no one, surely, if your boys struck up one more acquaintance with another of them during their rambles. They associate quite freely with all sorts of Andinol youth around the university, do they not? Who would think it strange if they brought some new friend home with them? For dinner, perhaps. You could just proceed from there.”

Mikayl turned to look at me, somewhat wide-eyed. “Bring him…home, my Lady?”

“I know it is a very risky undertaking, and I would never propose it had we any plan more likely to succeed.”

“Forgive me, my Lady, but…aspects of your plan are…still unclear to me. The Andinol youth my sons tend to befriend are mostly university students, like themselves. Matthew here is…a teenage boy, and young at that. Even if such a friendship could be…justified somehow, the sort of instruction we are speaking of would clearly take…months, at least, if not longer,” he glanced at me again, “assuming this boy has any potential for it to begin with. While I suppose a single dinner invitation might be made to pass unnoticed, a few hundred of them would…surely attract a great deal of attention.”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled, as if amused by the very idea. “You are quite right, of course. I fear I’ve not made myself clear at all. I meant the dinner invitation only as an unremarkable excuse to bring Matthew to your home.”

Mikayl waited—as I did—for the rest of her explanation. “And then?” he asked at last.

“And then,” said Rain, “the privacy of your estate would make it easy to render both his presence and whatever his training might involve thereafter invisible—even to us.”

Mikayl stared at Rain in apparent disbelief. “Are you suggesting…?”

“We are not suggesting—or commanding—anything, old friend,” The Lady said gently. “We are only requesting that you consider hiding Matthew in your household for whatever time it takes to equip him—or to determine that he cannot be equipped. I am well aware that we ask something of you which seems too dangerous to risk ourselves, and you are entirely free to decline. I would not fault you in any way for doing so.”

Mikayl’s gaze shifted back to Rain. “But, can you not hide him here at least as effectively as I can? Your talent far exceeds mine or that of my sons, Chancellor. Would you not make him a much finer teacher?”

“The story we’ve put out claims it was Piper in my arms this morning,” Rain replied, “but Anselm will be watching us more closely than ever for some proof to the contrary.” He looked down at his plate, and said tightly, “After this morning’s conspicuous event, they’ll have every reason to assume the boy is hidden here, which is why here is precisely where he must not remain. He must be somewhere Anselm will have no cause to look. If handled properly, your estate would seem to fit that description.”

“I see your point, of course,” Mikayl said. “But…how are we to arrange this sudden, casual acquaintance between my sons and a boy half their age? If Anselm is watching so carefully, can we be certain even my visit here tonight has not been observed? If, a few days later, my sons suddenly grow chummy with a boy so like the one they’re seeking, they will surely put the pieces together. We all know that my family’s fondness for the Andinalloi is smiled upon only because we guard so carefully against exposure. We dare not breach that line at the best of times, much less in the middle of…something like this.”

“Clear and valid concerns,” Rain said, “to which I too have given much thought. Your sons do seem to have inherited their mother’s renowned tendency to respond to need with compassion.” Mikayl’s expression became pained. “Forgive me if…I’ve caused you pain?”

Mikayl shook his head. “No. We just…miss her still.” He smiled tightly. “Proof of our good fortune in having known her at all, of course. This is what it costs to dance, and more than worth the price.” The Lady reached out gently to cover his hand on the table with her own. “I did not mean to sidetrack you, Chancellor. Please continue.”

Rain nodded. “No one would be surprised, I think, to see your sons address some particularly striking need they happened to encounter.”

“Need of what kind?” Mikayl asked.

“A homeless boy, for instance, who seems something of a prodigy, but for lack of resources to develop his potential. Might your sons not take that boy under their wing? I’m sorry to touch the same wound twice, sir, but their mother certainly would have. If such a choice by one or both of your sons were noticed at all, it would only be remarked upon that apples don’t fall far from the tree. You know as well as I do that nothing is more invisible than a conspicuous thing in plain sight which everyone assumes they already understand. Your estate and the University District are far from the last bolt hole Anselm saw the mouse he seeks run into. The very fact that your sons’ new project was so visibly garish and distasteful—to his mind anyway—would likely render it of no interest, even to him.”

“Well…” Mikayl said with a sidelong glance at me. “That seems an interesting and…nuanced approach.” He gave me a half-apologetic smile. “Dare I ask if this boy is, in fact, any sort of prodigy?”

My own question, exactly. Even The Lady was looking at Rain now, very curiously.

“As it happens,” Rain said, “the lad is both intelligent and articulate beyond his years.”

I saw The Lady’s brows climb slightly—as did mine. Was this not the very thing we were supposed to be concealing? What had just happened to all that coaching about being convincingly teenaged—and avoiding attention? Now, I was an articulate prodigy?

“I have known him only a short while, of course,” Rain continued, “and have no idea what if any specific skills he might have, but every time I think I know what to expect, he surprises me with something far more complex and sophisticated. He’s a fountain of conversation—once his initial shyness is surmounted—posing questions and observations far beyond those expected of someone his age. If he’s not an actual prodigy, he could easily pass as one. We could make him seem, I think, some kind of creative talent. A young writer, possibly. Or a poet! Work to justify the assertion could be supplied.” He gave me a smile, hard and sharp as a knife blade. “The name would certainly work in nicely.”

The Lady’s eyebrows had climbed marginally higher as he’d spoken. There was clearly something extemporaneous going on here.

“A poet named Rhymer?” Mikayl gave Rain a slight smirk. “That might very well attract my sons’ attention. Has he any skill at prophesy or lying?”

Both Rain and The Lady chuckled at this, briefly, though I couldn’t remember the fairy tale well enough to understand why.

Rain smiled and shook his head, giving me another of those ‘just you wait’ expressions. “None at either, as far as I can tell.”

“You married an Andinol woman, Mikayl,” The Lady told him earnestly. “Which makes you the only one among us who could possibly take this boy in without need of explanation.”

I turned to stare at Mikayl before remembering myself and looking away again. He had married one of us? …Had she known what her husband was?

“I understand,” Mikayl said. “But there is still one other problem, it seems to me. The Andinol acquaintances my sons are known to cultivate are—like my own—all genuinely ignorant of who and what my family are. Is this boy prodigy enough to fake such ignorance convincingly? If not, anyone of our kind watching will surely notice, I think, breaking the spell rather thoroughly—to our ruin.” He looked back at me. “I am sorry to keep speaking of you as if you weren’t here, Matthew. Your plight does touch me. Deeply. But you can have no idea of the danger this plan would place you in as well.”

“After this morning,” Rain said grimly, “I believe he does.”

“Still,” Mikayl insisted, “to cultivate a friendship with my sons without broadcasting the fact of his foreknowledge to every pair of watching eyes around him would require a level of sophistication beyond that of most Andinol adults.”

“This boy kept his head through this morning’s trauma well enough to sit calmly here at dinner with us now,” Rain said. “How many Andinol adults would be that composed?” He looked at me as if just daring me to screw this up as well. “Our guest is right, young Rhymer. It’s rude to have this conversation as if you were not here. I too apologize for failing to see that sooner. Please, speak for yourself. Do you feel prepared to see something like this through?”

It took effort not to throw my hands up in the air. Was I now supposed to act like a child who could act as wise as an adult? How should that be done—convincingly? What the hell was going on? I glanced at The Lady, hoping for some sign, but she just smiled encouragement.

Okay…the best lies are true, I thought.

“No one would know I knew what your sons are,” I said, working the problem through aloud, while trying not to use too many ‘adult’ words, “if… I really didn’t.”

Everyone stared at me, Rain with the face of a poker player going all in on a bluff.

“Meaning?” Mikayl asked.

In for a penny, in for a pound. One way or another, Rain was probably going to kill me anyway as soon as this was over. “Meaning…you don’t…tell me…anything about what’s going to happen,” I said, beginning to see a way to sound like I’d known what I meant all along. “Just put me out there, somewhere, to hang out and…meet people. Like he said, a homeless kid. Tell your sons where to look for me, and how to know which one I am… And let them come make friends with me like they would with anybody else. … Sooner or later, I’ll figure out what’s going on, I guess. But the contact you just talked about would all look normal, ’cause it was. I really wouldn’t know a thing ’til it was done, right?”

Rain spread his hands. “There you have it. Wise beyond his years. Still think he couldn’t handle it?”

Mikayl went on gazing at me. “Remarkable,” he said at last. “I suppose it might be tried, if he’s really willing to risk what he proposes. But it would take weeks at least, if not longer, to make the ruse safe for scrutiny. No real training could begin before that point, which means he really would be on his own for quite a while. That seems extremely dangerous.”

“Oh, young Rhymer here is no stranger to risk, are you, boy?” Rain asked me with what still seemed forced cheer. “Shall we work out the details at some later time then, so that, as Rhymer suggests, he won’t have to fake being unaware of what is happening?”

“Very well, my Lady.” Mikayl turned to offer her a rueful smile. “I agree to this attempt. Dance with life. Always been my motto. Always will be.”

They did little planning after that, beyond agreeing to meet again in my absence to hash out specifics without ‘contaminating my authenticity.’ The only thing I gathered was that, apparently, sometime tomorrow I’d be kicked out of Fairyland to start making my authentic way out on the streets until being credibly befriended by Mikayl’s sons. After that, pleasantries were exchanged, The Lady’s commission of Mikayl’s art—now a crucial part of disguising his visit that night—was further discussed, and finally, Mikayl said his thank yous and goodbyes—to them and to me.

He had barely been let out by The Lady’s page before Rain whirled at me and snapped, “Rhymer?! … RHYMER?!! Are you an imbecile?”

“I just meant it as a…a kind of inside joke,” I said, mortified.

“A joke?” Rain asked. “Naming yourself for a man kidnapped by the queen of fairy and taken to live in their kingdom under the hill? Why not just paste a sign on your chest? ‘I’m the guy! Kill me!’” He turned to The Lady in exasperation. “I despair of him.”

“He made an error,” she said wearily. “Nothing’s gained by beating on him now. I would, however, be interested in some explanation of your sudden course change this evening. You came perilously close, it seems to me, to drawing attention to the very things we wish…forgotten.”

Rain turned to smile grimly at me. “I apologize, my Lady, but young Rhymer here taught me a few of my own lessons tonight.”

“What lessons?” I asked, bewildered.

“What have I said to you about durable lies?” he asked.

I had to think a moment before I saw it. “That they should be as close to the truth as possible.”

He nodded, his smile widening. “Very good. And the truth is, you were never going to be convincing as what you are not. I was a fool to imagine you could learn to be a normal teenage boy, much less tell you to try. You taught me that as you walked through this door tonight.”

I remembered everyone’s strange confusion—before I’d said a thing. “What did I do?”

“We do not shake hands,” Rain said. “Except when we must pass as one your kind. It is a distinctively Andinol custom. You could hardly have announced your nature more starkly.”

“No one’s ever told me that,” I said.

“There are a thousand things no one’s told you; and a thousand others that no one’s going to think of telling you until it is too late. Which is why I decided—in mid-stream, so to speak—that your story must adjusted to match who you are—and will inevitably continue being, no matter how much effort any of us makes—an unusual child, years ahead of his peers.” Rain turned to The Lady. “Mozart, Einstein, any of a hundred child actors… It happens among them, my Lady. Frequently enough that other, far less probable explanations will never be evoked.”

“I’m supposed to pass for Mozart or Einstein now?” I asked, appalled.

“Of course not. You’ll just be mistaken for one more garden-variety ‘gifted child.’ That will solve a whole host of problems along the way, actually. Just…for love of your own life, if not ours, please steer clear of anything to do with fairy tales from now on.”

“Piper told me you guys don’t care about our fairy tales,” I said.

“Don’t care is not don’t know,” Rain said. “Any of us with any education knows your tales. We use them! We invented most of them! That’s why we don’t care about them. Didn’t Piper tell you that?”

“Maybe. … Sort of, I guess, but I didn’t think that everyone would—”

“You didn’t think! Period! And you’d better start or we will all be ruined!”

“So I’ll use some other name,” I said.

“Oh no you won’t,” said Rain. “You’ve told Mikayl this one now, and if you suddenly come up with another, he will wonder whether we’ve been less than honest with him about other things as well—which, regrettably, we have.” He paced about the room for a moment, as The Lady went to sit pensively beside her fire.

“Fortunately,” Rain said, gazing through a window at the darkness outside, “there are likely a dozen Rhymers in this city who really do have that name by chance. But here are two more tips on how to hide effectively, Matthew. First, don’t make such idiotic mistakes! Second, if you do, don’t start twisting everything around to fix them. There’s no faster way to make the tear bigger.” He leaned against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and released a long-suffering sigh. “Just try to give out your imbecilic new last name to no one else at all—especially during these next few weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I’m just not used to thinking like a fugitive.” When no one responded, I said, “I’m not used to living homeless on the street, either. I’ve had one night’s practice so far, and did a pretty poor job of that too. May I ask how I’m supposed to survive there now, for however many weeks this takes?”

“You’ll survive the same way any homeless child does.” He sounded more exhausted than angry now. “This plan was your idea, I must hasten to remind you—and a better one, I must admit, than some of your others recently.”

“Won’t the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing or how anything is supposed to work there make me pretty conspicuous?”

“No runaway knows more than you do the first time they try it,” Rain said. “I should imagine most know far less, not having fifty years of life experience to draw upon. You’ll be no more conspicuous than any of them are at the start, unless you somehow manage to make yourself so.” He turned to look at me at last. “Try not to get thrown in jail, though, or killed. Either one would make training you a great deal harder.”