Time to get off the road, before Paul or Peri saw him. Turning off just short of the stone bridge, Timothy followed the footpath along the riverbank, dodging in and out among the trees until he reached the wood’s northeast corner. He could see the Oak now, stark and majestic against the pallid sky-but in between lay open meadow, and how could he get across without being seen?
Timothy set down his guitar and lowered his pack to the ground. “Linden, wake up.”
He heard a rustle, and then Linden emerged from beneath the flap, stretching and yawning. “What is it?” she asked, and then, “Oh!” as she saw the Oak. She fluttered out of his pack and made herself human size again, grimacing a little as her shoes squelched into the muddy ground. “All right then, let’s go.”
“Wait,” said Timothy. “I thought you were going to make me small.”
“I am. As soon as we get to the Oak.”
“As soon as Paul or Peri happens to look out the window and spots us walking across the field, you mean?”
Linden puffed out a frustrated breath. “Oh, Timothy. Would it really be so terrible if they did? It wouldn’t take long for the two of us to just tell them where we’re going, and why. Is it really fair to leave them worrying about you?”
“They’re not going to be worried,” he said firmly. “I left them a note. They won’t be expecting to see me for three weeks.”
“Well, they’ve certainly been worried about me. What am I going to say to them if I can’t even mention you?”
Timothy said nothing, and at last Linden heaved another sigh and said, “All right. But it’s going to be a long walk.”
She turned to face him, and Timothy’s pulse started to beat faster. He was actually about to go inside the Oak, explore that mysterious place that no other human had ever seen…
“Wait,” said Linden suddenly. “Your guitar. What are we going to do with it?”
Timothy glanced down at the case still sitting by his feet. “Can’t I bring it?”
“It’s going to be awfully awkward,” she said, giving it a dubious look. “Especially getting it up the Spiral Stair. Can’t we just leave it here?”
“In the cold and damp? No, thank you-”
Linden winced. “Please don’t.”
“What?”
“The…the last thing. Don’t just say”-her voice dropped to a whisper-“ thanks like that. Especially if you don’t mean it.”
Timothy frowned, but she seemed serious. “Why?”
“Because it’s a special word to us. Sacred, even. To thank someone means you’re so grateful for something they’ve done, you consider yourself to be in that person’s debt forever-and believe me, we faeries don’t take that idea lightly.”
“Oh.” Timothy was subdued. “Sorry.”
“Anyway,” Linden went on more briskly, “let me think. Oh, yes, I know.” And with that she whisked the guitar off the ground and hurried away with it. A few minutes later she came back again, empty-handed and looking pleased with herself.
“What did you do with it?” Timothy asked.
“Put it back in your room. I made it small, flew up to your window with it, and sneaked it under the bed. It should be all right there, shouldn’t it?”
“Excellent,” said Timothy admiringly. “Th-I mean, I appreciate it.”
Linden gave a little, almost shy smile. “It’s all right. Now…” She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders as though she meant to push him down to faery size by force. Timothy’s skin prickled, a thrill running through his whole body; then dizziness swept over him, and he clutched at Linden’s arms as his knees buckled The tingling faded. Linden let go, and Timothy opened his eyes.
It was breathtaking, and a little daunting, to see the field stretching out in front of him like some withered alien jungle. The Oak still rose in the near distance, but now it looked huger than ever, a colossal pillar bisecting the sky.
“Come on,” said Linden. “Hurry.” And she flitted off. Timothy thrashed after her, wincing as the wet grass whipped at his arms and legs. In minutes his jeans had soaked through and his sneakers were heavy with mud, but the Oak seemed little closer than it had been before. His heart sank as he realized how much farther they still had to go.
“I don’t suppose-you could make me some wings-too?” he panted to Linden.
“That would mean turning you into something different than you are,” she called back. “I can make you smaller for a while, but that’s all.”
Somewhere in the wood behind them, a crow gave its raucous cry. Timothy froze. “Did you…Back in the restaurant, when you were telling me about the Oakenfolk…didn’t you say that crows…”
“Eat faeries, yes,” said Linden. “Which is why we’ve got to hurry. And keep your eyes open for burrows you could hide in, just in case.”
The idea of crawling into a muddy hole didn’t much appeal to Timothy, but neither did being eaten. No wonder Linden’s people preferred to stay inside the Oak. “Right,” said Timothy faintly, and kept walking.
By the time they arrived at the foot of the Oak, Timothy’s legs felt numb, his teeth were chattering, and half his weight in mud seemed to be stuck to the bottoms of his shoes. He had to stop and scrape them clean before he could move freely again. But as Linden led him down a rough ladder to a shadowy, root-framed door, he felt the old excitement resurface. He’d made it, they were really here “What is it?” he asked, seeing the look of distress on Linden’s face.
She held a finger to her lips, then replied in a near whisper, “The wards that protect us from humans are down again. And so is the glamour I put on the Oak to hide our doors and windows. You didn’t notice?”
Timothy shook his head. He’d been so focused on getting inside the Oak, he hadn’t even paid attention to the outside.
“Well, maybe it’s not as obvious as I thought,” said Linden, but without much conviction. She leaned all her weight against the door; with a grudging creak it swung wide, and the two of them walked in.
They emerged into a vast, cavernous space, where dim light filtered down from window slits high above. To their left, a round tunnel stretched into darkness, while in front of them stood a door whose tarnished brass plate read LIBRARY. And to their right rose a spiral staircase wide enough for three faeries to climb side by side, its smooth-worn steps twining upward as high as Timothy could see.
“We’ll have to go as quietly as we can, and hope we don’t bump into anyone,” Linden whispered. “It makes my head hurt to keep up too many different glamours at the same time, so I won’t make us invisible unless I have to-but it’s a long way up to the Queen’s chambers.”
Timothy nodded his understanding, and the two of them began climbing the stair together.
They trudged up past one landing, then another, all ringed with closed doors that looked virtually identical. He saw no paint or pictures on the walls, no carpeting, not even a single piece of furniture to distinguish one landing from another. The staircase itself was a fantastic piece of engineering, but on the whole, the inside of the Oak seemed to be a place built for function rather than beauty.
Still, to think of all this, carved into the heart of a single tree-he ran his hand wonderingly along the rail, feeling the age-polished wood. In all his childhood daydreams he’d never imagined anything like it.
“Someone’s coming,” hissed Linden. She pulled him back against the inside curve of the stair, and sparkling heat rippled over him as she cast a glamour to hide the two of them from view.
Now he could hear the sound of bare feet padding down the stairs, see the glow of a lantern bobbing toward them. As the other faery passed he caught a glimpse of a square face and bluntly cut dark hair, saw the wings that sprang from between her shoulder blades. She paused to sniff the air, frowning, and Timothy held his breath-but then the faery stomped on down the steps and was gone.
Who was that? mouthed Timothy when Linden nudged him to start climbing again.
“Thorn,” she whispered back. “She’s a friend…well, mostly. I’d love to introduce you, but trust me, this would be a very bad time.”