“Oh yes. Are ya going ta try ta sting me like the ol’ scorpion? Perhaps ya can’t. It looks as if yer tail is missing.”
“I don’t have a tail.”
“Pity. His tail is rather impressive. There’s not much about ya that’s impressive as far as I can see. Are ya a dosser, then?”
“I’m not sure what a dosser is. And I’m much more impressive with my weapons.”
“A dosser’s a fella up to no good. I don’t see any weapons.”
“No, then I’m not a dosser. My weapons are magical. I call them from the sand.”
The sprite frowned. “We don’t trust magical folk, but seeing as how yer knackered nigh ta death, ya don’t seem to pose much of a threat. Been gawking at ya for the last two days.”
“Oh. That’s…good, I suppose?”
“Depends. I see your thirst is somethin’ terrible.”
“It is. I feel like a desiccated corpse left to dry to a husk in the blazing sun.”
“Awful for ya, then, isn’t it?” She scowled and then muttered, “I heard ya! Stop interferin’, ya thick excuse for a tree. I suppose we can help,” she said reluctantly to Amon.
“Can you?”
“Yes.” Then a mischievous twinkle lit the fairy’s eye. “Must be hard ta be so thirsty when it’s been bucketing down like ’tis.” She smiled mysteriously and lowered her voice. “I know how ta ask the tree ta give up her water. And ya can’t tell anyone that we helped ya, either,” she warned. “It’s my job ta guard this tree. If all the creatures in the netherworld knew how ta take her water, well, there wouldn’t be any left for the trees, then, would there?”
“No, I suppose there wouldn’t be.”
The tree sprite crooked her finger at Amon to call him closer. “The secret,” she whispered, “is in the wantin’. You can’t want it.”
“Not want it?” Amon questioned with a bewildered expression.
“Right. If the tree knows ya want it, then she won’t let ya have it. She doesn’t trust men very much.”
“I see.” Amon nodded soberly and took a step back, examining the great tree that stretched wide limbs over his head. “Well, Tree, I’m not thirsty. Nope. Not needing a drink at all, though I just crossed the desert of a thousand burning suns, where it was hot enough to make even a hell demon sweat and beg for relief.”
Slowly, a thin limb crept closer to Amon and a broad blue leaf unfurled, showing that it held nearly a cupful of water.
Drinking deeply, Amon licked the last wet drops from his lips and smiled warmly. “Thank you. I wonder how it is that you and your tree ended up stuck in the netherworld.”
The sprite said sadly, “We were tricked into coming here.”
“Tricked? How?” he asked.
“This is a fairy tree and she used ta be on the top of a lovely hill in Ireland.”
Now her accent made sense. She spoke with a lovely lilt to her voice—an Irish brogue I could listen to for hours. “An’ I loved her even before I even knew she was magical,” she said. “I’d sit beneath her and dream about far-off places. Climb her branches and gaze up at the stars. It was a grand thing.
“One day a stranger eyed me at the market. Full of ill intent, he chased me until I found myself near the tree. She must’a known I was in danger, because the trunk opened and I leapt inside. It was dark, but it was better than what the man had planned for me.”
“What happened then?” Amon asked.
“The man began chantin’ a spell and the tree shook. The trunk cracked and great drops of sap trickled down over my hands. I heard the crash of one heavy limb and then another. The man said she had to give up either me or her heart. Ya see, when a fairy tree gives up its heart, it releases great power.
“But she loved me and refused. Instead, she did something forbidden. She pierced the man’s heart and killed ’im. She was struck down for it, died with me inside, and was sent here to the netherworld. When she was planted in the Turquoise Forest, my form changed ta this. Now it’s my job ta take care of her, just like she took care of me.”
“And you do a good job of it. Do you mind if I rest here awhile?” he asked.
“Do what ya like,” the sprite said.
Amon put his back to the wide tree trunk and sank down to the