The Seven Year King (The Faerie Ring #3) (8 page)

‘I wonder you’d be working on the holiday!’ said Tom.

‘That’s my own business, not yours,’ was the reply. ‘It would be fitter for you to be looking after your father’s property than to be bothering decent quiet people with your foolish questions. There now,’ the little man pointed down the field, ‘while you’re idling away your time here, the cows have broken into the oats, and are knocking the corn all about.’

Tom was taken so by surprise with this that he was just on the very point of turning round when he recollected himself; He didn’t dare look away, or the little man would escape. Afraid that the like might happen again, he made a grab at the Leprechaun—” Tiki made a grabbing motion— “and caught him up in his hand.”

Clara squeaked with excitement.

“Hush,” Toots hissed.

“He then swore that he would kill the little man if he didn’t show him where his money was. Tom looked so wicked and bloody-minded that the little man was quite frightened; so says he, “Come along with me a couple of fields off, and I’ll show you a crock of gold.”

So they went, and Tom held the Leprechaun fast in his hand, and never took his eyes from him, even though they had to cross hedges and ditches, and a crooked bit of bog. At last they came to a great field all full of boliauns. The Leprechaun pointed to a big boliaun, and says he, “Dig under that boliaun, and you’ll get the great crock all full of guineas.”

Tom in his hurry had never thought of bringing a spade with him, so he made up his mind to run home and fetch one; and that he might know the place again he took off one of his red garters, and tied it round the boliaun. Then he said to the Leprechaun, “Swear ye’ll not take that garter away from that boliaun.” And the leprechaun swore right away not to touch it.

“I suppose,” said the Leprechaun, very civilly, “you have no further occasion for me?”

‘No,” says Tom, ‘you may go away now, if you please, and God speed you, and may good luck attend you wherever you go.’

‘Well, good-bye to you, Tom Fitzpatrick,’ said the Leprechaun, ‘and may you do much good with what you find.’

So Tom ran for dear life, back home and got a spade, and then away with him, as hard as he could go, back to the field of boliauns. But when he got there, lo and behold! every boliaun in the field had a red garter, the very model of his own, tied about it.”

“The lep’reecon tricked him!” Clara exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight.

Toots sat back and let out a low whistle. “Clever bloke.”

“Tom dug to the east some, then he dug to the west, but he found no treasure. He tried digging to the north as the harvest moon rose and it set as he dug to the south. Exhausted, he leaned on the handle of his shovel and looked around. Digging up the whole field was all nonsense, for there were more than forty good Irish acres in it. So as the sun came up, tired Tom Fitzpatrick came home again with his spade on his shoulder, a little cooler than he went, and many’s the hearty curse he gave the Leprechaun every time he thought of the neat turn he’d been served.”

Tiki closed the book. “And that’s the story of clever Tom and the Leprechaun and their field of boliauns.”

“Mr. Potts said those lep’reecons are tricky sorts,” Clara said with a grin.

“Do you think the gold is still buried in that field?” Toots asked.

“Could be, but you’d have to be able to outsmart a leprechaun to find it.” Tiki stood up. “Up to bed with you two, now. I’ll be up in a minute to kiss you goodnight.”

Toots and Clara scampered out of the room, chatting excitedly about leprechauns and gold.

“It’s nice to have you home, Tiki.” Shamus paused in his whittling. “But if you need to leave again, I’ll watch the children,” he said in his measured way. “They’ll be safe here. You go do what you need to and hurry home.”

Tiki nodded at Shamus’ gaunt face. Even though he ate three good meals a day now, he had yet to gain an ounce of weight. Mrs. B. said it was because he had a hollow leg where he stored all the food he ate, but Tiki wondered if it was because he was still making up for all the years he’d gone hungry.

Clara and Toots would be safe here with Shamus and the Bosworth’s to watch over them. She needed to focus on saving Johnny and Dain. “Thank you, Shamus.”

TIKI HURRIED UP the stairs to the third floor, checking first on Toots, and then across the hall to where Clara and Fiona shared a bedroom. Clara was snuggled into bed with her little arms clutched tight around her stuffed Doggie. Tiki smoothed a blond curl from her forehead and bent to kiss the tender skin. She inhaled Clara’s sweet scent that was like a combination of fresh flowers and a summer breeze, and a sense of peace filled her. She was home and her family was safe. An image of Dain’s battered face floated before her eyes and like a snuffed flame, her sense of well-being evaporated.“I love you, little mouse,” she whispered to the girl.

“I love you, big mouse,” Clara said with a happy smile.

Tiki straightened and glanced at the other bed. Fiona was buried under a mound of blankets with her back to the room. Tiki hesitated. She didn’t want to wake Fi, and in truth, was hoping to delay telling the other girl that she’d forgotten to check on Johnny until the morning. Deciding to let her sleep, Tiki was almost at the door when something made her pause and look back over her shoulder.

She stepped toward the bed and peeled back the top blanket, just enough to see Fiona’s dark wavy hair. But instead of hair, there was a mounded-up pillow.

Tiki’s heart skipped a beat.

She gently lifted a corner to see under the linens, but there were only more sheets and blankets. A terrible fear ignited in Tiki’s stomach and she yanked the covers back, desperate now to see Fiona’s slim figure asleep under the blankets.

But instead of Fiona, there were more blankets, wadded up to look like a figure sleeping. Tiki yanked the remaining covers away as a terrible realization sank in.

Fiona was gone.

Chapter Eleven

T
iki flew down the stairs, her feet barely touching the steps as she raced for Rieker’s study. She pushed the door open with a crash, causing the young man to jump to his feet in alarm.

“Fiona’s gone!” Tiki skidded to a stop in front of him. “There are sheets and blankets in her bed—wadded up to look like her. Where do you think she could be? Do you think she was taken?” Tiki panted as she stared at him wild-eyed.

Rieker put his hands on her arms. “Calm down, Teek. Take a deep breath. There’s no reason for anyone to take Fiona.”

“But where is she?” Tiki’s voice rose with panic.

“I don’t know.” Rieker returned to his seat, pulling a nearby chair out for Tiki. “Sit down. Let’s figure this out calmly. Why would Fiona need to sneak out, anyway?”

“That’s just it—she doesn’t need to sneak—” Tiki froze and stared into the distance, a stricken look on her face.

“What is it?”

“I think I know where she’s gone,” Tiki whispered.

“Where?”

Her gaze riveted on Rieker’s. “The Goblin Market. She’s gone to save Johnny.”

“Teek.” Rieker shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

Tiki jumped up to pace in front of a long row of bookcases that covered one wall in Rieker’s study. “The Goblin Market. Dain told me about it when he brought me back to London. He said the Goblin Market is at Covent Garden—it’s one of the gates—one of the intersections between London and the Otherworld.”

“Covent Garden?” Rieker’s voice echoed with disbelief. “A
goblin
market? Are you daft?”

Tiki rubbed her hands together as she paced. “He said it opens at midnight and closes at the first light of dawn.” She stopped and looked at Rieker. “I mentioned the market to Fi when we were looking for you.” Tiki held her hands out. “Don’t you see? I’m afraid she’s gone to ask about the Cup. That was the angriest I’ve ever seen her this afternoon. She didn’t want me to leave, she wanted to go look for Johnny…to save him…but I left anyway…” Tiki’s voice faded.

“Tiki.” Rieker’s tone grew stern. “You had to go. You had to claim the throne, there’s no two ways about that.” He pushed out of the chair and came to stand near her. “I understand that Fiona is distraught, but you can’t blame yourself.”

Tiki whirled to face him. “But I do blame myself. Don’t you see? If I’d stayed, she’d be here now, we’d be making a plan together to save Johnny. She’d be safe.”

A clock chimed out the quarter hour.

“It’s only 12:15,” Rieker said. “If the Goblin Market doesn’t open until midnight, and if that’s where Fiona has gone, then she’s only fifteen minutes ahead of us.”

Tiki’s eyes widened with hope. “You’re right. Maybe we can catch her before anything happens.” She scrambled to the door to collect her shoes, anxious to be on the way. “Should you wake Geoffrey?”

“Tiki.” Rieker’s voice was soft. “There’s a faster way.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she shoved her feet into the silk slippers. “What’s that?”

Rieker straightened. “We can go the same way we came home.”

Tiki stared at him for a long moment. “You’re right. There’s no reason it wouldn’t work—but we just can’t be seen suddenly appearing.”

“It’s night and it’s dark.” Rieker shrugged. One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Perhaps when you visualize where you want to transport us, you can picture shadows, too?”

Tiki didn’t return his smile. “Do you think we should tell anyone we’re going?

Rieker strode across the room toward her. “Rather than that—probably best to go immediately, find Fiona, and get back before anyone knows we’ve gone.”

THEY ARRIVED IN the shadows under the portico alongside Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, just a short walk from where the costermongers hawked their fruits and vegetables at Covent Garden. Tiki was used to being out at night. There had been many times when she’d snuck into pubs in the wee hours of the morning to pick the pockets of unsuspecting drunks, then disappeared back into the dark night. But it was with an unfamiliar apprehension that she walked toward the strange glow of light that emanated from Covent Garden in the distance.

At Rieker’s insistence, they’d both changed their clothes before departing, slipping into their old familiar street clothes: worn pants, an oversized coat that hid the fact that Tiki was a girl, caps that shadowed their faces—clothes that made them invisible as they mingled among London’s underbelly.

A strange sense of familiarity filled Tiki’s chest as she peeked at Rieker from the corners of her eyes. Dressed as he was, he’d once again become the rakish pickpocket she’d first met at King’s Cross more than a year ago. Then, she hadn’t believed she could trust him, but now—she trusted him above all others. He, alone, knew her secrets. And for once, she believed that she might know all of his.

Tiki slid her hand into his and he gave her a sideways grin, squeezing her fingers. For that instant, it was if they were the only two people in the world and they shared a secret no one else knew. Longing tugged at Tiki’s heart and part of her wished the moment would never end.

“William Richmond,” she whispered softly in a disapproving tone, “I believe you’re enjoying this.”

A wicked grin twisted one corner of Rieker’s mouth. “Always had trouble saying no to a bit of adventure.”

As they approached from Drury Lane, the night carried the normal sounds of the City at rest: the sporadic clack of carriage wheels across the cobblestones, accompanied by the jingle of coach rigging; the cries of the night people coming and going.

They rounded the corner to the open mall where the fruit and vegetable vendors parked their carts each day and Tiki stared in amazement. Before them stretched a scene beyond her wildest imaginings. The plaza was awash in bright light: candles blazed, grease lamps glowed, flares flickered with red tongues of flame, orange fires radiated from the barrels of chestnut roasters and blue-white shafts of moonlight shone over it all, creating a wash of illumination.

“Bloody hell,” Rieker muttered under his breath. “What is
that?”

In a macabre imitation of the costermongers and vendors who populated the market during the day, carts stretched in a line along the cobblestones. But these carts were very different from the straining wooden two-wheeled versions Tiki was used to seeing. These sturdy carts appeared to be made of gold, gleaming beneath their precious loads. Luscious fruit, plump and dripping with juice, were piled high in cart after cart, like candy waiting to be plucked from the piles. The fruit sparkled in the fire light, as though coated with a sugary layer that would melt on one’s lips at first bite.