Lilu's Book Page 4

  The loom itself was also unusual. It looked like it was made out of crystal and—strangest of all—hummingbirds were acting as the warp, pulling the horizontal threads across the tight vertical ones at lightning speed in aerial maneuvers my eyes couldn’t follow.

  I thought about contacting Tandy with the shell and describing the scene to her, but she had said that I should only call on her when I really needed her. And coming upon a group of fairies and a magical loom probably didn’t qualify as an emergency.

  I had been so intent on studying the loom that it took me a moment to realize that the fairies had all turned around and were staring at me and whispering amongst themselves. I thought I heard Songa Lineage mentioned, but I couldn’t be sure.

  My stomach was starting to weave itself into knots. It’s one thing to be staring at fairies. It’s quite another to have them staring back at you! I felt like the new girl at school who had to stand up in front of the class and say something about herself.

  I waved at them awkwardly, which was totally stupid. I should have just walked over and introduced myself. But it’s hard to approach a group of strangers when they’re dressed in gorgeous gowns and you’re dressed in a purple wet suit.

  Across the clearing, a large willow swept aside its branches, and a fairy stepped out into the sunlight. From the way the other fairies turned to look at her, I knew she was their leader right away.

  The fairy wore a pale purple dress that shimmered as she moved. Small seed pearls were embroidered around the hem and neckline in an intricate flower pattern. Her brown curls were piled high on her head and cascaded down her back all the way to her knees. And nestled in her curls was a dewdrop crown that shone like diamonds. Like the other fairies, she had flowers—violets—woven into her hair. As she approached, her iridescent blue wings opened and closed like a butterfly’s, and the scent of lilacs perfumed the air. I could even see bees buzzing around her lazily—not a fashion choice I would go with!

  “Welcome to Aventurine, Lilu,” she said, gliding to a stop in front of me and smiling warmly.

  “Thank you,” I replied, and bobbed into what I hoped wasn’t a complete mess of a curtsy.

  “I’m Queen Patchouli of the Willowood Fairies. Please, follow me. You must be curious why you’re here, and time is short.” She glanced ruefully at the loom. “It’s a shame you have come when things are so urgent. I would have loved to discuss weaving with a member of the Songa Lineage. The Willowood Fairies are known for our magical cloth, but your family is legendary for its weaving skills.”

  I ducked my head so that Queen Patchouli wouldn’t see me blush. Did she know that I wasn’t as good at weaving as the other women in my family? I hoped I wouldn’t disappoint her.

  Queen Patchouli led me to the willow tree with its branches pulled back. When we entered, the branches released down like tent flaps closing.

  The area was much larger than it appeared from outside. There were a few large rocks and huge mushrooms to the right and an ornately carved desk and chair to the left.

  Queen Patchouli rang a glass bell and then gestured for me to sit on a moss-covered rock while she settled onto one of the mushrooms. I thought the seat would be hard, but the moss felt like an overstuffed cushion.

  Fairies brought me nectar in a daffodil cup and a candied water lily cake with some kind of purple frosting that burst with flavors I couldn’t even begin to describe—except to say that it was good. Really, really good. I set the crescent moon shell in my lap to free my hands so I could eat more.

  Filling my belly with fairy food, I felt that Aventurine had become more real than the waking world, even though so many strange and magical things were happening.

  Queen Patchouli waited until I had finished brushing fairy cake crumbs off of my lap. Then she said, “You must have questions about why you are here. First, let me say that you have arrived just in time to begin a very important quest, and unfortunately there isn’t a lot of time for explanations. But if you have questions about Aventurine, please ask them now.”

  With the spotlight on me, I almost didn’t know where to begin. There were so many questions I wanted to ask! I bit the inside of my lip. “Am I dreaming? I am, right? I mean, I was in bed, talking to my twin sister, then … well, I was underwater. When I wake up, will all this be just a dream?”

  Queen Patchouli nodded thoughtfully. “You may be sleeping in your world, but here in Aventurine, you are wide awake and ready to embark on the journey of your life. Do not mistake what takes place here as ‘just a dream.’ It matters very much how successful you are. However, when you return to your world and wake in your bed, only one night will have passed.”

  That made sense, I guess. “My mom told me that coming to Aventurine was the start of my training to become a fairy godmother. What does that mean? What do fairy godmothers do?” I asked.

  “She was right. You are now a fairy-godmother-in-training. You are gifted with the magic of your Songa Lineage, and I think you will find that your weaving skills will come in handy both here in Aventurine and in the waking world.

  “Fairy godmothers are the keepers of the green world and the caretakers of those in need. It is not an easy charge, but those who succeed in their quests and become fairy godmothers join an extraordinary group of strong, magical women. It’s a very special thing.”

  I sat up a little straighter on my moss-covered chair, trying to look worthy of the challenge.

  Queen Patchouli’s warm green eyes measured me for a second, then she stood and gave me a determined nod. “Come, we have much to do before you must leave.”

  I stood, gripped the crescent moon shell in my hand, and followed her to the large desk that I had noticed when we first entered the willow tent. As we neared, I realized the desk was not made of carved wood as I had originally thought.

  It was made out of honeycomb! The latticework of the comb made a thick base. The top looked like a sheet of honey had been poured into the comb and then frozen to create a shining amber surface.

  The chair was also honeycomb, in some parts thick and in others as thin as my pinkie finger. The seat was woven of long-stemmed wildflowers.

  The desk and chair were so fragile-looking and beautiful that when Queen Patchouli motioned for me to sit, I hesitated, afraid I would break the chair.

  “Don’t worry, Lilu,” said Queen Patchouli, noticing my hesitation. “Sometimes beautiful things are not as fragile as they appear.”

  I gingerly sat and marveled that the chair could hold me. Queen Patchouli was right; it was quite sturdy.

  Suddenly the top of the desk began to ripple. Rising out of the golden depths was a large book with a gilded cover. The Book of Dreams, I read across its front. Alongside it a crystal jar filled with honey-colored ink rose up as well.

  Queen Patchouli handed me a peacock-feather quill. She probably pulled it out of thin air. I had been too busy staring into the desk and wondering what else would float out of its depths to keep an eye on her as well. The desk seemed to be finished now, though, so I turned my attention back to the fairy queen.

  “This is The Book of Dreams,” said Queen Patchouli. “All fairy-godmothers-in-training write down the one dream that means the most to them. Now it is your turn.”

  “Every single fairy-godmother-in-training?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “That means my mom’s dream is in here!”

  “Yes.” With a flick of her wrist, Queen Patchouli opened the book to my mother’s entry.

  I gripped the crescent moon shell, realizing that my mother had sat in front of this book when she was my age. It was one thing to hear that she had been here before me; it was quite another to see her familiar handwriting on the page of a magical book.

  I don’t want to just weave baskets and bracelets anymore. I want to weave words into fabulous stories that move people and change them. I dream of strangers watching my shows and feeling as happy or sad as I felt when I was writing the script and making the fil
m. I just wish I had the right words to say this to my mother without her thinking that I don’t appreciate our family’s basket-weaving heritage.

  —Cassandra

  Whoa.

  I was beginning to feel like reading this book was a bit like reading someone’s diary. Mom had never said anything about having a tough time telling Nan-Nan about wanting to write stories and create documentaries.

  It was such a strange feeling. This page held the dream of my mother’s younger self. I wished I could shout into the pages and back through the years to let her know that everything would be all right. That she would find a way to tell Nan-Nan and become a success.

  A lump rose in my throat.

  “Are you ready?” asked Queen Patchouli.

  I nodded, and she flicked her wrist again so that the pages fanned to a stop on a fresh tea-colored page.

  Penmanship was never really my thing. Tandy was always the one who wrote the thank-you notes to our customers when we filled online orders. I gripped the quill and carefully dipped its tip into the golden ink. For several seconds, my hand hovered over the page.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Queen Patchouli watching me.

  I drew a deep breath, exhaled, and wrote my dream as neatly and honestly as I could:

  I want my family to be back like we used to be. Like we were supposed to be. Together. Loving and taking care of each other. Everyone is drifting apart. First Mom and Dad. Now Tandy and me. Twins should stick together. My one true dream is having my sister share my world again.

  —Lilu

  I raised my quill from the page and looked up at Queen Patchouli. “And that is your dream?” she asked.

  I said yes, and she gave a slight nod. “Very well.”

  When I looked back at my entry, my jaw dropped. The page was filling in with decorations!

  A tight weave was forming around the edge of the page, and a crescent moon shell decorated the top. The bottom looked like two silhouettes with clasped hands were standing at the edge of an ocean with waves coming in. They were united, and I could tell by their hair—my Afro puff and Tandy’s relaxed curls—that they were meant to represent Tandy and me. I felt a smile spread across my face like butter on a hot bun.

  “Now, if you follow me, I will explain more about your specific quest. And why it is so urgent that you move with haste,” said Queen Patchouli. She turned and walked to the center of the tent, where the gnarled willow tree’s trunk rose above our heads and split off into arching branches.

  When she rested her hand against the trunk, it was as if the entire tree shimmied in response to her touch. The swooping branches tousled like wild hair on a windy day. The willow seemed very glad to see Queen Patchouli.

  Her lips moved a bit, but despite my years of developing almost superhuman eavesdropping skills to figure out what was going on with my mom and dad, and then my mom and George, I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  I must have been getting used to this whole magic business, because when a crack of green light appeared at the tree’s base and sliced its way up the trunk and over to the right, I only jumped a little.

  The door formed quickly, and a knot in the tree’s bark became a doorknob that Queen Patchouli grasped and pulled open, revealing a flash of bright green that soon faded to black.

  I couldn’t see anything in the pitch darkness past the doorway in the tree’s trunk.

  Queen Patchouli turned back to me. “Everything in Aventurine is connected. If you know the proper way to ask, a tree in one area can open a pathway to another. This wise willow has agreed to let us through to the Night Bloomers’ Cave, which marks the beginning of the Silven Marsh and your adventure.”

  With that, she disappeared into the darkness.

  I felt silly just standing there in front of the door. Besides, who knew how long the magic would last? Nothing worse than getting left out of your own adventure. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped through the door and into the dark.

  5

  Through the

  Night Bloomers’ Cave

  Have you ever played with Silly Putty?

  Well, I can tell you that being Silly Putty is not nearly as fun! When I stepped through the door, everything went black, and I felt like a hand had grabbed one edge of me and stretched me out across a big void. It didn’t hurt, really, but I felt thin, like I had stopped being a solid person and had become just thoughts in a cloud. Then SNAP!—the back of me flung across the void, too, and suddenly I was on the other side.

  Queen Patchouli was waiting for me.

  We stood in a passageway made of jagged, pale, shimmering quartz. It was spectacular, unlike any place I’d ever seen. Ancient-looking candles lined the walls. I wondered how they stayed lit. Amazing natural stone, polished and gleaming in the dim light, managed to shine with luster. In the distance, I heard birdsong and rushing water.

  I followed Queen Patchouli through the passageway as it narrowed and narrowed until we had to squeeze through an opening, emerging on the other side.

  Here, the screech of birds surrounded me, and I could see we had entered a large cave.

  This wasn’t the kind of cave with bare rock walls and dripping stalactite fangs coming down from the ceiling. It was green and full of life. Gigantic ferns sprouted from all over the place. A grassy clearing, lush and thick with every shade of green imaginable, opened onto a sea of orchids.

  Once I stepped clear of the quartz passageway, I was in a waterfall of sunlight on a carpet of grass, the heavy, sweet scent of orchids tingling my nose.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  Queen Patchouli looked back. “This is the Night Bloomers’ Cave. The ceiling is covered in tiny cave flowers that bloom at night and glow with this magical sunlight. All of the plants and animals here rely on the light to survive,” she said with a smile.

  So that means while this part of the world is experiencing nighttime, Willowood is experiencing daytime, I thought. I wondered if that meant that traveling through the willow had taken me all day in the blink of an eye or if I’d just traveled clear around to the other side of Aventurine. Just thinking about it made my head hurt!

  The queen led me through a maze of ferns, moss, and birds—there were so many here. Glossy ibises, tall and thin; great blue herons, alert and noble. But the most amazing of all the birds were …

  The cranes. They were larger than in the waking world, and their bright feathers shimmered in the night bloomers’ light.

  I couldn’t help myself. “Whooping cranes? You have endangered whooping cranes here, too?”

  Queen Patchouli stopped by two tall, majestic cranes standing at the edge of an underground river. The birds both turned and looked at me at the same time.

  I know it sounds ridiculous, but they were looking right at me, right into my eyes. And it was like, well, like I could almost feel what they were thinking. They seemed sad, but maybe hopeful, too.

  Mom and Dad were both whooping crane enthusiasts. Hmm … no wonder I was such a mess. Any time a girl can make a statement like her parents are “whooping crane enthusiasts,” well, you’ve got to expect her to be a little daffy, right?

  Anyway, I remembered a lot from all the times Tan and I worked with both of them to spread awareness about the dwindling whooping crane population. There are less than five hundred whooping cranes left in the world. All kinds of programs exist with people trying different ways to rebuild their populations and get them to reproduce, but Mom says it’s tough.

  “Lilu,” said Queen Patchouli, “I know that in your world, you are being challenged with a great many changes.”

  I bit the corner of my lip but remained silent. She beckoned for me to take a seat beside her on a quartz bench cut into the cavern’s side.

  When I sat, she took my hand and squeezed my fingers. Then she drew a deep breath and began to explain the true reason I had been called there. “Aventurine is going through change as well. A storm is coming. Worse than a hurricane, because it has magic
at its root. The Tangerine Tide, we call it, which is a pretty name for something that has the power to cause some very ugly damage.

  “You see, a lot of magic is used in Aventurine, and bits of it are often left over in the air after spells have been cast. Those bits float around, sometimes helping plants and animals grow into healthy beings, but every hundred years or so enough of the magic collects in the clouds to churn into a storm. The storm then feeds on itself, growing bigger and bigger until it blows through an area with terrible force.” Queen Patchouli shuddered. “When that happens, it sucks up all the water in the area, leaving behind a sticky orange mess—a tangerine tide of destruction.”

  This sounded really bad. Lots of wind and rain could be devastating to animal communities. I wondered how the birds of the marsh would prepare. Or if they would survive.

  “There isn’t a lot of time. The Tangerine Tide moves quickly. We’ve already had the storm that blows through as a warning of its arrival. It was terrible, and besides causing some destruction to the marsh, which is bad enough, it separated these two whooping cranes, Zeus and Zandria, from one of their eggs. An egg that will hatch into a baby boy crane soon,” said Queen Patchouli.

  In the waking world, whooping cranes usually have two eggs and then choose to raise only one of the eggs. Here, they must be able to keep both.

  I turned to look at the stately whooping crane parents. In a tuft of saw grass and twigs I spotted a single, perfect egg. Now I realized why the birds looked so sad. They had lost a baby!

  “You will need to travel to the Castle on Stilts. That is where Queen Alaina of the Dragonfly Fairies has kept the egg since the storm blew it onto her land. If you can reach her in time and return with the egg before the Tangerine Tide reaches the marshlands, you will have a chance to reunite it with its family.”