Welcome to Bordertown (28 page)

That’s when I made a private vow. Someday, someone would buy
The Secrets of Seven Sages.
Then I would buy the house with the red door and hand Sparks the keys.

*   *   *

Cut to a few days ago, when we went to see a musical double feature at the Lantern. On the way back, it was drizzling, which inspired Sparks to re-create the title number from
Singin’ in the Rain
, which made us both laugh until she slipped and broke her foot.

The next morning, I put out a Help Wanted sign. A few people applied, but I hired Copperjean, an elf with dyed shaggy hair like coils of copper. She said she’d just come from Faerie. She knew books like a book lover, and I remembered arriving alone in B-town, needing all the help I could get, so Sparks and I welcomed her to Elsewhere.

*   *   *

Though Copperjean had that upper-class accent of elves from Faerie and Dragon’s Tooth Hill, she worked hard, and she treated our customers, whether human, elf, or halfie, as if she was quietly pleased she could help them find books they would love. Just as Mickey had given Elsewhere to Sparks and me, I knew I would be passing it on to someone someday. By her second morning of work, I began to wonder if that someone would be Copperjean.

That afternoon, I was shelving books and Copperjean was at the counter, when I heard, “Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines everywhere.”

The fur on my ears tingled. The words were pitched in the range where male and female voices overlap, and I didn’t recognize the speaker. But I smelled a familiar elfin scent.

I turned quickly. Tricksy Nixi stood framed in Elsewhere’s front doors. He owned Fair Folk Books, where the sign in the window claimed he was Nix Farseer, Gentleman of the Realm, Proprietor. He wore what might be the latest from Elfland, or Hollywood for all I knew: a frock coat, a high-collared shirt, trousers, and boots
in shades of green. With his milk-white skin and pointed ears, he looked like a Dickens character from a Tim Burton film.

In the Bordertown accent he saved for people he knew he couldn’t impress, Nixi said, “It’s a pleasure to see you, Wolfboy.”

I was grateful I couldn’t talk. It was easy to nod and get back to shelving. If I’d been able to speak, I would’ve said,
Why? What did I forget to lock or hide?

Nixi headed to the stacks labeled “Spirituality, Sorcery, and Charlatanism.” I kept an eye cocked, but he didn’t linger. He scanned the spines, chose six, and brought them to the counter.

Copperjean sat by the register, reading the sixth volume of
Yotsuba&!
She set the book aside and said, “Yes, sir?”

A runaway straight out of Elfland was in no way ready to deal with one of B-town’s finest scamsters. I tapped her shoulder, then my chest, to say I’d take this one. She nodded and went back to reading.

As I flipped through Nixi’s choices, I tried to figure out what he was really after. They were the usual books would-be magicians buy, things written by humans before Faerie returned. He ran a thin finger across a Carlos Castaneda jacket and said, “Judging by the dust, you have no market for tomes such as these. What say I take the lot off your hands for a baker’s dozen of four-leaf clovers, a pound of Kona beans, and a pristine copy of the plays of Aphra Behn?”

He drew what he was offering from his shoulder bag. The clovers were not wilted, the smell of the coffee made me salivate, and the Behn was a university collection that wasn’t rare in the World, but it was rare in B-town, and Nixi was right about its quality.

I pointed at the coffee and raised two fingers. Nixi laughed and said, “One and a quarter. You know that’s a fair price.”

It was. I suspected he was offering it because he would gouge
the noobs at his shop. I wanted to say no on principle, but the books he chose would probably have ended up in the free bin we euphemistically called the Elsewhere Public Library. I nodded.

He added a quarter bag of coffee to his offer on the counter, saying, “You’re a cool man of business, Wolfboy.” Which meant I should’ve held out for at least a pound and a half.

I gave him a big smile, showing all my fangs. Maybe the grin was friendly. Maybe it meant I was one second from biting his head off. Nixi’s smug expression faltered as he tried to decide which.

Then I slid the books to him and gave him a little wave. He grabbed them up, said, “Always good doing business with you,” and headed for the door. Just a little fast. Which I credited to him being a bit shaken by my grin.

I was feeling guilty about my juvenile streak when someone shouted in an androgynous elfin accent, “He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol’n, let him not know’t, and he’s not robbed at all!”

Copperjean and I looked at the door. Nixi broke into a run as the same voice screamed, “The moon’s an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun!”

I couldn’t see the screamer, but the smell of Nixi’s fear filled my snout as I surrendered to the thrill of the chase. The Mock Avenue crowd of humans, elves, and halfies parted before me. Someone called, “Go, Wolf, go!”

I heard another scream: “Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing. ’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands; but he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed!”

I caught Nixi on the street a few paces from Elsewhere’s big front window. The voice that was a scream whispered contentedly, “People usually are the happiest at home.”

I jerked Nixi’s pack off his shoulder. As I pulled out books, he yelled, “Those are mine! I paid your price!” In the sunlight, it was clear the Castaneda jacket was a bit large for the book it was on.

I tore off the jacket. The book under it was
The Secrets of Seven Sages.

Nixi said, “Wolfboy! Please, assure me you didn’t put a worthless old book into a good dust jacket—”

“False as dicers’ oaths,” said the book.

Nixi and I stared at it. Many kinds of strange are normal in Bordertown, but talking books aren’t among them.

The book began to purr in my hand, so quietly I doubt Nixi heard it. Only the book lover in me kept me from dropping it.

When I looked at Nixi, not grinning or growling at all, he sighed. “So. The book requires fair trade in fact, not semblance. Very well. Take half my books in exchange. Your choice.”

I growled slightly.

“Then take every item from my shop,” he said quickly. “Take the shop as well. That’s all I have of value.” He glanced at the book, but it didn’t speak. Since he was discussing its future, I decided he was telling the truth.

Fair Folk Books was a quarter the size of Elsewhere on a side street that didn’t get much traffic. That’s why he advertised in
The Tough Guide to Bordertown
and plastered Soho with fliers announcing “Fair Folk Books for the True Bordertown Experience! A Proud Fey Business Where Friends of Elves Are Welcome!” The last line began appearing right after Bordertown was reconnected to the World, when Nixi saw he could triple his profit by selling that “True Bordertown Experience” to humans crushing on Orlando Bloom.

Nixi’s whole shop would not come close to buying the house with the red door.

Nixi said, “I’ll be honest”—he glanced at the book again—“I know a collector who’ll never deal with humans. She’ll pay ten thousand aurei from the reign of Septimus Severus. Pure gold coins, Wolfboy. Worth even more in the World for their historical value.”

When I hesitated, he said, “I’ll take only twenty percent for a finder’s fee. Deal?”

I did the math: Eight thousand might buy the house, but the full ten would cover it for sure and some improvements as well. I gave Nixi a look that I hoped said I would have accepted his terms if he’d offered them up front, but now I would wait until I found a buyer who’d deal with humans or the Queen of Faerie kissed my furry bum.

My teeth must have been showing. Nixi said, “Please. For the sake of my children—”

“Believe me, I do not believe thee, man,” said the book.

I laughed, and Nixi grimaced. I stuffed the five books he bought honestly into his bag, handed it to him, and pointed for him to go.

Among the people watching us were two elves, both wearing the red leather jackets of the Bloods. I recognized one. She had bought
The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon
in paperback recently. Passing them, Nixi said loudly, “Well. It’s obvious where our kind isn’t wanted.”

His fingers opened as his arm swept down, as if he was throwing something at the sidewalk in front of Elsewhere.

The book whispered, in a worried, warning voice, “Double, double toil and trouble.”

And my fur tingled.

I didn’t have a clue what kind of spell Nixi had cast, but I didn’t doubt it was trouble.

Then I saw how it could double: Three humans in the Pack’s black leather were also in the crowd. Mock Avenue is supposed to be neutral territory for Bloods and Packers—emphasis on “supposed to be.”

While Nixi scurried away, a Packer with a Thor’s hammer tat on her forehead shouted, “Don’t let the Gate hit you on the ass!” I didn’t recognize her, but the big guy with her, Jed or Ted, was a regular at Elsewhere. He liked military history and gardening books.

As the Packers laughed, a human girl in a green “Respect the Realm” T-shirt said, “Don’t dis the fair folk! There’s too much hate—”

Hammer Tat told her, “Stay out of this, elfy-welfy.”

Jed or Ted added, “Read the old tales, kid. Last time around, elves hunted us, seduced us, tricked us—”

The green-shirt girl said, “I
have
read them! The
sidhe
wanted to live in peace, but we harrowed them back under the Hill!” She looked hopefully at the Bloods. “Isn’t that right?”

Watching the Packers, the
Pillow Book
buyer smiled and said softly, “Truth doesn’t matter. Their minds are fixed.”

Her partner reached into his jacket pocket. “Should anyone doubt we can defend what is ours by right—”

Hammer Tat put her hand in her back jeans pocket. “Elves ran before, and you’ll run again.”

The other watchers scattered. Someone would call the Silver Suits, but by the time they arrived, the fight would be over. Even if there were bodies on the ground, no one who was smart would’ve seen anything.

I stepped forward, raising one hand in a peace sign and grinning. I hoped they would laugh and move on. But I could hear heartbeats racing and smell anger growing.

The male elf sneered at me. “Your people always want peace when the folk have the advantage. Step aside or fall with your fellows.”

Jed or Ted told me, “A pointy-eared freak cursed you, Wolfboy. Join us for some payback.”

“They’re not pointy-eared freaks!” the green-shirt girl shouted. “Humans once drove them away, but they’re giving us a second chance! Don’t you see? It’s time to heal the hate!”

The
Pillow Book
buyer said, “I’m quite comfortable with hate, so long as its companion is fear.”

The green-shirt girl screamed, “We’re not all like them!” Her wave included me with the Packers. Tears of frustration coursed down her cheeks.

“True that,” said Hammer Tat as she drew out a hunting slingshot and pulled the cord tight.

The
Pillow Book
buyer whipped her arm from her jacket. A Faerie dueling sword snapped out from its handle with a soft
snikt.

I was extremely aware that I was standing in no-man’s-land with no good place to go.

Then I heard, “A plague o’ both your houses!”

The cord of Hammer Tat’s slingshot broke, and the blade of the elf’s sword fell from its handle.

Everyone froze, or maybe time just seemed to slow way, way down. If you thought we all looked stupid a moment earlier, we looked stupider then.

Jed or Ted offered the obvious explanation: “Man, magic in B-town has extra weird sauce today.”

I nodded emphatically as I slipped
The Secrets of Seven Sages
into the side pocket of my cargo pants. Then I picked up the blade of the dueling sword and handed it to the
Pillow Book
buyer. Taking it, she told the Packers, “So it seems.”

Hammer Tat shrugged. “The Pack agreed this is common ground. If you want to meet, you know where to find us.”

The Bloods nodded, the Packers walked on, and both Bloods strolled away. The green-shirt girl was shaking and sniffling, struggling to hide her tears. Some people laugh at elfy-welfies, but I remembered coming to Bordertown, hating what I was expected to be and longing for a better world. I gave her a smile and a thumbs-up.

She just frowned at me and walked away, so I shrugged and forgot about her. I had more important things to worry about.

I pulled out a notepad and wrote, “Book? Is Nixi’s trouble spell used up now?”

Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about how to show a note to a book. It whispered, “What’s done is done.”

I wrote, “What’s that mean?”

It whispered, “What’s done can’t be undone.”

I wrote, “You weren’t programmed to answer questions, I take it.”

It whispered, “We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”

I wrote, “You couldn’t just say no?” I waited until I was sure the book wasn’t going to answer. Either its magical batteries had run down, or it didn’t have a quote in its database to cover what it wanted me to know.

Copperjean looked up from
Yotsuba&!
as I walked in. I showed her
The Secrets of Seven Sages.
For a second, she was perfectly still. Which, for an elf, means nothing at all. Then, tugging a strand of her burnished hair, she said, “Shall I call the Silver Suits?”

I shook my head. Even if I convinced a judge that a book quoting Shakespeare proved Nixi was pulling a fast one, the worst he’d get was a fine. Which he would pay off by scamming someone new.

I went to the chalkboard behind the counter and wrote, “How did a cheap dust jacket get on a rare book?”

Copperjean said, “Someone must’ve swapped it when no one was watching,” and went back to her manga.

I glanced at the shelf over the front window. Another dark, old book was where
The Secrets of Seven Sages
had been. I put
The Secrets of Seven Sages
back in my pocket. Maybe it wriggled as it settled in place. It might’ve purred.