Mercatus

That’s what it was at the best of times. The fairy constantly moved things, hid things, pranked, mocked, laughed, and annoyed. Sam was only three days into being grounded, and she had had enough. 

“Would you please stop that,” she grumbled as she sat at her desk in her room, staring down at her mother’s old journal. She’d wanted to read it, but it was hard to concentrate with the fairy reclining on her bed whistling loudly and purposefully, she suspected, off key. “I’m trying to read.”

“I’m bored, though! Let’s go outside!”

“You know, I can’t. I’m grounded.” There’s a sound paper of crumpling before the back of her head is pelted by a ball. Sam turned to glare at the fairy, who did nothing but smirk back at her.

“So? Who cares? It’s not like your mother’s home. What she doesn’t know... keeps you out of trouble.”

“I’m only in trouble because of you,” she reminded him. That had been the only information she’d been able to glean from him in the last few days: he preferred male pronouns. She reached for her pen in the cup on the corner of her desk and frowned when it wasn’t there. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“My pen! The like, fiftieth thing you’ve taken in three days? Stop messing with me and give it back!”

“Ugh, Sam, you’re really no fun and you really shouldn’t make such demands of fairies.”

“And you shouldn’t be a huge pain in the butt if you’re in someone else’s house. Don’t fairies have like...rules about being in human houses? Like, I don’t know, ‘don’t be a huge jerk’?”

“Depends on the kind of fairy,” he answered vaguely. 

“And what kind are you, exactly?”

No answer, except for a pop as he disappeared from sight, but when Sam turned back to her desk, the pen was back in the cup, right where she had left it.

The little pranks continued. Luckily, Sam’s mom was left mostly alone, though she occasionally complained about a misplaced spoon or book. Sam, on the other hand, seemed to be having even more difficulty. She’d started to trip more frequently and holes were popping up in her favorite shirts and shoes. Even her iPod went missing and when it finally reappeared several hours later, it was broken. Abigail was sympathetic as it all began to clearly get to her daughter, and she ended the grounding a day early.

“Wait, really?” Sam perked up a little at the news, looking up from her dinner when her mom mentioned it.

“Yeah. I think you’ve learned your lesson...and you’ve been having some rotten luck the last few days. I’d say you’ve been punished more than enough. We’ll go to the Mercatus tomorrow and get you a new wand. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great! Thanks, mom!” Sam gushed and happily finished the rest of her meal. Getting a new wand would certainly be a bright spot in a week dampened by fairy mischief. Speaking of…

“Hey, mom?” Sam asked, as she rinsed her plate at the sink after dinner. “What do you think about...fairies?”

Sam’s mother pursed her lips in thought, taking the clean plate from her daughter and drying it with a towel.

“Fairies? Well, I suppose it depends. Some fairies are generally kind, though you still wouldn’t want to upset them… others aren’t so nice and should be avoided at all costs. Some like to help around the home or in fields. They don’t ask for anything, but there are still some things you should do to keep them happy so bad fortune doesn’t fall on you. And some fairies, well…they’re not bad or good, and it really depends on their mood. I think we may have a couple books on them but why do you ask?”

“Well… what if there was one in the house? And what if it’s a butthead?” Her mother laughed, putting another plate away.

“I’d say… don’t call them an ‘it’ or a ‘butthead’, first of all. And second… I suppose as long as they’re not being too malicious, I don’t mind. Is this fairy, who may or may not be in the house, the reason for the funk you’ve been in the last few days?”

“...maybe.” Sam muttered as she grabbed a dirty cup. “He kinda sucks.” Her mother laughed again and shushed her.

“Don’t say things like that,” Abigail tutted. “Like I said, you don’t want to insult them. I’m sure they’ll settle down in a little bit and maybe we can all get used to living together, if they decide to stay. They can be mischievous, but house fairies can be very helpful, too.”

Sam wasn’t reassured and her mother smiled softly, brushing her daughter’s bangs back.

“If they’re bothering you too much, though,” her mother hummed, “we’ll take a look around the Mercatus tomorrow and see if there’s anything we can find to peacefully urge them on their way, okay?”

A loud raspberry blew near Sam’s ear and the glass she was cleaning slipped from her fingers to shatter in the sink.

Her mother immediately urged her back as she stammered out apologies and glared over her shoulder at the cackling fae.

“Sorry, mom… and yeah…if we could get something...that would be great.”

After cleaning up, Sam trudged up to her room, ignoring the spirit still giggling over her shoulder until she’d stretched out on her bed.

“Hope you haven’t gotten too comfortable here.”

“Oh, yes… you and your mother are going to find something to ‘peacefully’ send me on my way, right? Hate to break it to you, but I’d have to want to leave for that kind of thing to work. And I don’t think I really want to go. You’re far too fun to play with.” Rolling over, Sam glared at the creature hovering over her, his chin placed in his hands and a sharp grin on his face. That same grin that never quite managed to reach his eyes. Folding her arms behind her head, they engaged in a silent staring contest for a few moments.

“... why don’t you ever look happy?” She finally asked softly. 

The fairy’s mask slipped, just a little, the wide-toothed grin fading into a tight-lipped smile as he cocked his head.

“I don’t know what you mean, Sammy. I haven’t been this entertained in ages.”

“... that doesn’t really sound like the same thing.” The staring contest resumed, the fairy not answering, though his fox-like ears had pulled back somewhat and his sharp blue eyes had narrowed just a bit. It only ended when he disappeared with another pop and she was left alone once more. A quick glance to make sure, and Sam rolled out of bed to change into her night clothes. The sooner they could get rid of him, the better, in her mind.

Still, as irritated as she was, she couldn’t wait for tomorrow! Not having her wand had been almost as painful as that sprained ankle and had lasted far longer. Sleep didn’t come quickly, as it rarely ever does when one’s too excited. 

When sleep finally did come, it brought with it the sort of half-formed dreams that one occasionally experiences; disjointed, bizarre...with a strange sense of foreboding. The dream would fade from her memory quickly, like water through a strainer, but the feeling would remain.

Sam woke, rubbing her tired eyes, her stomach in anxious knots for reasons she couldn’t place. But as the crust of sleep was brushed away, the excitement of the upcoming day returned and buried it. She leapt from her bed and into the bathroom, eager to be ready, even though the clock on her nightstand flashed 7:00 AM. It would still be a bit before her mother woke up to join her very impatient daughter. 

The fairy didn’t seem to mind, though, popping in as he always did, as Sam finished tugging on her sweater. She gave a little jump at the noise and scowled up at him.

“Do you have to do that every time?”

“Nope. But I do like to announce my entrance. Seeing you jump like a bunny from a hound is just a bonus.”

Rolling her eyes, Sam descended the stairs, keeping quiet despite her excitement. As much as she was looking forward to going, she didn’t want to disturb her mother just yet. 

“Whatever, why don’t you go away for a bit? I’m going to make breakfast for mom and I don’t want you messing it up.”

“You know, we keep talking about how not smart it is to be rude to fairies… not sure why you’re not getting it, Sammy,” he huffed in response, settling on the table and leaning back on his hands, little fox legs crossing. 

Sam, for the most part, ignored him, pulling eggs from the fridge and setting them on the counter. The pan was a little harder to get. It was just out of reach as Sam strained on her tiptoes, hand outstretched. A little hop, and a cry of victory, and she had it!

It was a short-lived victory, though. As she came down, she hit the carton which had apparently been sitting slightly over the edge of the counter. The bump sent it, and the eggs within, toppling to the floor with the crunch and smack of breaking shells.

The fairy, from his perch, burst into laughter, wrapping his arms around his middle as he doubled over. 

“Oh, my! Now, that is unlucky!” He got out between guffaws, wiping away a tear of mirth as Sam sourly picked up the carton and chucked it into the garbage.

“I’m starting to think you’re unlucky,” she retorted, wetting a paper towel to clean up the mess that had oozed onto the floor.

“So much for eggs, I guess,” came the sigh, after. “Hope mom’s in the mood for toast.” 

Abigail came down the stairs a short time later, still wearing her robe, and smiled at her daughter.

“I’d be surprised to see you up so early, if I didn’t know how excited you’d been last night.” She greeted, kissing the top of her daughter’s head before taking the plate offered to her.

“You made me breakfast? That’s sweet, thank you, dear.”

“Yeah… it was supposed to be eggs but uh… there was an accident. Also, we need more eggs.” Her mom chuckled softly and sat at the table, not seeing the fairy still perched there. Sam shooed him away before sitting next to her.

“What happened to the eggs?”

“I kind of...knocked ‘em over when I was getting the pan. It was an accident. I cleaned it up, though.”

“Well, thank you, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get more after we go to the Mercatus. Let me just finish up this toast and then I’ll go and get dressed.”

Her excitement peaking once more, Sam took this as an excuse to wolf down her own breakfast and raced back upstairs to get her hat and bag. She was already down the stairs once more by the time her mother had finished her own breakfast.

“Are you seriously going to stand by the door and wait for me?”

“Yes! Come on, mom, get dressed!” Laughing, Abigail took a moment to push back the brim of Sam’s hat before she went back upstairs to get ready for the day. Sam couldn’t help but tap her foot impatiently.

“I don’t see why you’re so excited,” came his voice from the window seat. Sam ignored him. “It’s just a market.”

“It’s not just a market!” Sam rounded on him, hands on her hips. “It’s the Mercatus! The Witch Market! It’s full of all kinds of things! They say it has no end!” She gushed, eyes bright. “And we’re going and getting me a new wand and something to get rid of you, once and for all.” She then frowned, head cocking thoughtfully. “Hang on, shouldn’t you already know about the Mercatus? Lots of creatures visit it, not just witches.” He shrugged again as he floated up and over to her.

“It’s still just a market. A big one, but who really cares? Ah well, I guess I’ll be seeing for myself why you’re so excited for it.” 

“...what do you mean?” Sam asked, deflating a little.

“I’m going, too, of course.”

“What? No! You’ve ruined everything since you got here! You’re not coming!” Sam stomped her foot, hands balling into fists at her side.

“You can’t exactly stop me,” he grinned back, looking more than a little amused by her tantrum. “I’ll see you there, Sammy.” Giving a little wave, he disappeared as Abigail came to the top of the stairs, dressed in a thick green turtleneck and comfortable jeans.

“Everything okay, Sam?” She asked, pausing at the base of the stairs, clearly noticing her daughter’s tense posture.

“...yeah, I’m fine. Can we go?” Abigail frowned, but nodded.

“Sure, hun. Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam nodded and forced a smile, though her mood had clearly been dampened. She didn’t want him to go with them. It was bad enough he was making her home life miserable. Did he really have to follow her everywhere else, too? Sighing, she took her mother’s hand, and walked out the door and around the side of the house. 

They headed into the woods, Sam pressing a little closer to her mother. They didn’t feel the same as they did on the morning of her birthday, or even the days before. Now, they felt dangerous and dark. Her mother’s grip on her hand was reassuring, at least, and it wasn’t long until they came to an old stone arch, jutting up from a broken foundation, the remnants of stone walls covered in moss. 

Abigail pulled her wand from her pocket and tapped it against the topmost brick in the arch.

“Aperio Semita,” she spoke out in a loud, clear voice. The archway hummed and glowed, golden light blossoming from the entrance. It was so bright, Sam was forced to squeeze her eyes shut against the glare. When it faded, and she cracked them open once more, through the doorway, was the Mercatus.

Bouncing eagerly, excitement renewed, Sam tightened her grip on her mother’s hand and leapt through, pulling her mother along behind her.

“Slow down, Sam! It’s not going anywhere. We’ll have plenty of time to explore after we get your wand.” Her mother pointed out gently as the pathway behind them closed. Sam barely heard her. They were on a cobblestone road that seemed to stretch for miles in either direction, twisting around corners. Shops and stalls lined every inch of it, the air heavy with the scent of food and spices and loud with the chatter of people and strange creatures. Little fairies, smaller than Sam’s own nuisance, darted between the carts and stalls and the occasional building and Sam was certain she saw a giant squatting down in front of one of the booths down a side path as her mother led her down the row they were on. 

“Stay close, no wandering off.” Her mother warned her sternly. “And don’t touch anything.” Hard orders to follow, considering what all there was to look at. 

One booth had nothing but telescopes and periscopes… another was filled with jewels and stones that glittered in the sun. Fabrics, spices, cauldrons, animals… you could find anything you needed here. 

“How are we going to find the wands?” She asked, craning her neck every which way.

“Hmm, there should be a map...oh, here it is!” Between two of the stalls was a large board, filled with fliers and advertisements. A red-orange phoenix perched on the top of it squawked as they approached and took flight, leaving behind a trail of embers and smoke.

“How’s a map gonna help us? This place is huge! Does it even have everything on it?” It had been some time since Sam last got to visit. Other than the sheer wonder of the place, she didn’t remember many other details. She’d been too busy trying to look at everything there had been to offer.

“The portal always drops us here, and yes, it does. Thank goodness for that,” her mother explained, finger on her chin as she examined the map that seemed far too small to accurately portray the size of the place. Abigail pulled her wand out once more and tapped the board.

“Wands, please,” she spoke and the map seemed to come alive, scrolling over and down until it stopped, a section of booths lighting up and flashing with pale purple light. Abigail pressed her wandtip to the portion of the map and the glow seemed to seep from the page to hover at the tip. Stepping back, Abigail gave it a flick and the purple ball of light fled from her wand to float a few feet away.

“Alright, now we just follow it.” She told her daughter. Together, they did just that, following the purple light as it navigated its way through the twisting booths. Sam saw other witches and wizards and creatures with orbs floating in front of them, apparently also being led to their destination.

“Is that how you always find things in the Witch Market?” She asked her mother. 

“Most of the time. I’m afraid it doesn’t always work. No one’s quite sure why. But the Mercatus is ancient and full of magic very few could ever hope to really understand.”

“So...what happens if it doesn’t give you directions?”

“You can always try and find it yourself, though it takes a lot longer.” Sam looked around, grimacing at the thought. 

“I bet they look for years…”

“It’s certainly possible!” Abigail chimed as they turned a corner and sidestepped a scurrying goblin, who glared as they passed.

Even with their magical guide, it was sometime before they reached their destination. In fact, they had to stop for lunch on the way and Sam gratefully took a seat at the little table outside a booth selling soft, hot bread and melted cheeses with savory meats. Sam let her mother order for her; she didn’t recognize some of the names and was, frankly, a little afraid to ask. She trusted her mother not to get her something like unicorn flank or manticore chops. She sipped a fizzy, bright pink soda that tickled her nose, kicking her legs in her seat a bit as they ate and people watched… creature watched? There were certainly a lot. More than there were humans.

“Mom? Why aren’t there more people like us here?” Sam asked, as she finished off her meal. Her mom frowned a little and vanished the trash with a wave of her wand before standing and resuming their trek.

“There aren’t as many of us left, I’m afraid, at least in the mortal world. Most of the ones who are still around tend to stay here, where they don’t have to hide their magic.”

“They live here?” Abigail hummed an affirmative.

“There are places here without any booths or stalls or shops. Just tents and little shacks and cottages for witches, wizards, warlocks, mages and creatures who want to stay where the magic is strongest. Little villages and hamlets somewhere in the realm. They’re not easy to find, though, so I’ve heard. There’s also inns, and they’re a little easier to track down.”

“Can we try to find one?” Sam asked, eyes wide with excitement at the prospect of a whole society of witches and wizards, hidden somewhere in the maze of stalls. Maybe some of them were her age! Abigail shook her head, though.

“Maybe when you’re older. Right now, we have a mission, don’t we?” Sam giggled a little at that. A mission? It sounded so rigid...or like something out of the military.

“I think I like ‘quest’ better. That sounds much more magical.” She decided and it was her mother’s turn to laugh.

“Quest, it is. Ah, here we are!” The little ball they’d been following had stopped and was hovering in place at a four-way fork in the cobblestoned path. Everywhere, as far as Sam could see, were booths and tents, filled with wands and staves. She could see wood and stone and crystal glittering in the light of the sun between the shoulders of shopping creatures of every race and people. Bouncing with anticipation, she grabbed her mother’s hand, and drew her to the first booth with an opening in the crowd of shoppers. A somewhat grizzled old man was there behind the counter and he smiled behind his short, frizzy gray beard as he leaned down somewhat, propping his elbows on the counter as he peered at Sam from beneath his thick eyebrows. 

“Well, hello there, little one. What can Hareshava do for you today?” His voice was warm, the frail-looking old man giving off the vibes of a grandparent who’d just spied their favorite grandchild.

“I need a new wand, sir. Mine… kinda broke.” Hareshava hummed, running his hand over his beard thoughtfully as he glanced at her mother over her head.

“I see… that’s certainly not good, not at all. A true shame, but it does happen on occasion, doesn’t it? Let Hareshava take a look and see what he can dig up for you.” Straightening as much as he could, he turned and shuffled into the tent behind the counter. Sam could hear him rummaging over the noise of the crowd… as well as a few muffled swears at a particularly loud thump. That made her giggle and even her mother chuckled a little. Old Hareshava returned shortly after, a little more rumpled than he when he left, but holding a couple of long, thin boxes.

“Here we are! Try this one, to start.” He set the boxes down and grabbed the one on top, placing it on the counter and removing the lid with a flourish. Nestled in thick velvet, was a pearlescent white wand. Carved vines wrapped along its length and it had what appeared to be an opal nestled in the hilt. It was rather extravagant and Sam’s jaw dropped in awe as she gingerly lifted it from its case.

“Woah….”

Her mother grimaced a little, though.

“Ah, that’s a very lovely one but… I’m afraid we need something a little more...beginner friendly.”

“But mom,” Sam started as Hareshava tutted and took the wand gently from her hand.

“Now, now, little one, you should listen to your mother. Perhaps this one’s calling just a little too soon, yes? Try this one.” He tucked the beautiful white wand away and set down another box, pulling off the lid with another flourish. The wand in the box was purpleheart, a wood with a rosy purple color, with soft silver swirls up and around its length. Sam lifted this one from its container, fingers curling around the black lacquered handle. It felt warm and seemed to thrum with life in her grasp.

“Go on, give it a wave,” Harishava encouraged and Sam did just that, stepping back and twirling her wrist. A shower of silver and purple sparks followed in the wandtip’s wake. Her mother clapped her hands.

“Oh, beautiful! What do you think, Sam?”

“I think… I think it’s perfect!” Same gushed in response, cradling the wand close to her. Hareshava chuckled at her excitement as her mother pulled out a bag that clinked with gold coins. She pulled out a few to press into the old man’s hand, thanking him profusely. Sam twirled away, experimentally waving her new wand and grinning widely.

“You sure you’re good enough for that wand?” The question nearly made her drop her new treasure and she quickly tightened her grip to avoid doing just that. She glared over her shoulder and saw, of course, her fairy shadow. He was grinning the same grin he always did and hovering over her just enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

“Shut up. I’m plenty good enough for it. Hope you’ve had your fun, cause now that I got my wand, you’re history! Mom said so. We’re going to make you go away.” The fairy snorted and grinned wider, if at all possible.

“Keep telling yourself that, Sammy. But I’m not going anywhere.” He hummed before disappearing with his customary pop. Sam scowled at the place he’d been. What a freaking pain.