The figure eight was a clock to show seasons, not hours. It was something a pixy would have to be very sure of so as not to get caught unaware by the cold. "Cool," I said breathlessly, following the shaft of light up to a small patch of sunshine high above our heads.
"Do you see a door?" Pierce asked, satisfied with the state of the fire and joining me.
"I think they're all up there," I said, pointing to shafts opening up about two pixy lengths over my head. Pierce sighed, and I looked around for something to stand on. There was an arrangement of cushions and chairs in a lowered pit, which was no help. But between it and the now-cheerful fire was a long table made of popsicle sticks, stained red and dovetailed together to make it longer. Maybe we could prop it up against the wall, like a ramp.
I was just about to suggest it when a scuffing from the ceiling jerked our attention upward. Wasps? I thought in fear.
"Jenks?" Pierce called out, and I tensed when a harsh clatter of wings came and went.
"Who's here? Jax, is that you?" said a slurred voice from the high patch of sun. " 'Bout time you showed up. I gotta tell you about the water rights with the clan next t-t-to ours."
"It's me, Jenks!" I called out, thinking it was one of the dumbest things I'd said in a while, but I was so relieved to know he was alive I didn't care.
"Rache?" The shadow between us and the light staggered, then fell backward. There was a crash followed by a weak "Ow."
I looked at Pierce, then the upper patch of light. "There's a room up there," I said. Another brilliant observation. "How are we going to get up there?"
"Stairs," Pierce said, pointing, and I realized that there was indeed a thin excuse for a stair, without so much as a hint of a banister, snaking upward in a wide spiral running along the outside wall of the main room.
"Who, by Tink's little red thong, put the floor up here?" drifted down.
Oh God. He was drunk. I gathered up my skirts and dropped Pierce's light into them, anxious about what I might find. The higher I went, the brighter it got. The air, too, felt different. Moister. I wondered why there were stairs at all, seeing that pixies could fly.
Finally I reached the top, blinking in the strong sun. Jenks was flat on his back beside a fallen wire-and-cushion chair. Dropping my skirts and Pierce's light, I went to him.
Pierce came up behind me in a soft padding of bare feet. "I swan, this is the most beautiful room I've ever seen," he said as I knelt beside Jenks.
The bottoms of six glass pop bottles were wedged into the earth wall to let the sun in, but the ceiling was actually the stump. The long, curving room was moist, and the soothing sound of water dripping came from somewhere. Moss grew on the floor with tiny white flowers growing from it. Even the benches under the windows were covered in green, making soft hummocks. A small table made from a big button and plastic-coated paper clips stood before an empty fireplace that looked like the bottom of a throat-lozenge box. The chairs were of wire and cushions, and I recognized them as looking almost exactly like the tables and chairs from the island resort at Mackinac Island. The top of a saltshaker was in a corner half full of dirt, and infant seedlings grew close to the windows. Manicured grass rose tall at the back to hide the wall.
No wonder Jenks is here, I thought as I pulled on his arm to get him up. Matalina's grace was everywhere.
Jenks finally focused on me as I got him upright, his wings bent behind him as he sat on the floor. Not a glimmer of glitter was on him anywhere, and he was still stained from the battle. "The Turn take it, Rache," he said, pushing my hands off him as he sat propped against a hummock. His wing was caught under him, and he shifted a tall vial of honey to his other hand to reach back to free it with a tug. "Can't you just let me die in peace? Matalina died in peace."
Pierce sighed. "He's corned!" the witch said, and I looked at him, annoyed.
"Of course he's drunk," I said sharply, trying to get the vial of honey away