agitated, and he looked away.
Poor Horace, thought Willa.
During the “troubles,” the Horace she knew had disappeared, gone with his memory into some black hole in his brain while his body continued to wander aimlessly about. He didn’t seem to know who he was or what was going on around him. Willa didn’t know much about diseases of the mind — dementia, was it called? She had no idea if it was reversible, but in Horace’s case, after the battle he’d suddenly snapped out of it and was himself again. Mostly. He still had these little memory lapses over insignificant things. It was all very normal, but it upset him terribly.
They were interrupted just then by some old-timers heading their way in single file, white-haired gentlemen and ladies in a flush of khaki and hiking boots, walking sticks and binoculars in hand. Birders. These were Horace’s new friends, a gaggle of seniors who shared his avian obsession. Willa smiled, bade Horace a quick goodbye, and started down the path to town. She didn’t want to get trapped in an endless discussion about how to tell one little brown bird apart from another little brown bird.
She was glad that Horace was mingling with real people, though — real, mortal humans. Maybe that was the secret to his regained grasp on reality. At any rate, she was glad she didn’t have to worry about him.
“Hello, Willa,” said a familiar voice.
Willa jumped. It was Mr. Hacker, nosy next-door-neighbour extraordinaire, with his wife right behind him. Willa wasn’t used to seeing them smiling. They were more often than not scowling over the fence at her. Willa smiled, said hello, and hurried on. They’re in this group too? The two people we most want to steer clear of? She’d probably have to check in on the birders from time to time now, just to make sure the Hackers weren’t prying. What would they do if they ever saw Horace the androsphinx magically transforming into a lion? Willa sighed. Another item added to the things-to-worry-about list.
Work began at the house. Overnight the dwarves banged together a high plywood fence around the lot to block the view from the street … and from the Hackers, who were in a state of apoplexy.
“It’s an eyesore!” burbled Mrs. Hacker.
“Brings down the tone of the whole neighbourhood,” harrumphed Mr. Hacker.
Willa had Horace talk to them. He applied some smooth talk about high-priced architects and how posh the new house would look. The fence was only temporary, of course, a necessary evil of construction. One must keep small children from wandering in and falling into holes.
Horace did such a job on Mr. Hacker that even when the fence was covered in graffiti, he shrugged it off with a lack of concern that left his wife speechless. For a day, anyway. Then she focused her laser beam eye of disapproval on the workers.
“I never see them arrive. I never see them leave. It’s all very mysterious!” she announced to Willa on the street.
“They work long hours. And there’s, um, lodging on the site. In the stable.”
Mrs. Hacker’s eyebrows shot up so fast, Willa thought they might pop right off her head.
“Lodging in the stable? That can’t be up to code for a dwelling, even a temporary one.”
“We couldn’t find anywhere else that suited them,” said Willa with a sly smile. “Unless you’d like to offer them your guest room? There are only nine of them.”
That got Mrs. Hacker spluttering and twitching. “Well, they’d better have all the proper work permits from city hall!” she barked and retreated into the house, slamming the front door behind her.
The idea of permits filled Willa with anxiety, but the dwarves overcame it immediately. Barely five minutes after she mentioned it to them, a very official-looking piece of paper appeared stapled to the front fence. Willa read it over with great relief.
“Dwarf magic!” chortled Tengu as he took a look.
“Magic? What do you mean?”
Tengu sniffed the paper. “Gullibility paper. And the lettering too! This is a magic font. It invokes in the viewer the belief that the document is real and official.”
“A font can’t do that!” exclaimed Willa.
“Don’t believe me? Read the words carefully — it’s all gibberish!” he giggled.
Willa reread it, more slowly this time, the words flickering and changing in front of her very eyes. Tengu was right. The notice made no sense at all.
“Nice,” she admitted. “That should shut the Hackers up, for a while at least.”
It did. The fence helped too. None of the neighbours were able to get a good look at the dwarves, but they could hear sawing, hammering, and all the noises one associates with a house going up, so they stopped paying attention. The dwarves worked on, keeping to themselves. Willa tried several times to chat with them, to no avail. They responded to her questions with shrugs or mimed gestures, never saying a word.
Oh well, thought Willa. They’re not exactly friendly, but as long as the house goes up, I don’t care.
For the first week things progressed pretty well. The dwarves constructed proper supports for the stable and then cleared out the house rubble and redug the basement in record time. Soon a layer of beams and boards covered the hole, and presto — the dwarves vacated the stable and went to live in the new underground space. Not a moment too soon, as the fairies moaned continuously about their appalling odour and general lack of hygiene. They were glad to see the dwarves go underground.
Robert was so pleased, he was very nearly smiling, but he still grumbled to Willa about the stable’s creeping damp. “The nights are autumnal, we’re into October now, and it won’t be long before the cold is unbearable. And then what’s to be done with me, eh?”
Meanwhile, Willa’s home life was becoming more complicated, and not just because of Mom and Belle. Baz was really starting to act weird. Willa knew she had some catlike elements within her, but in the past she’d kept them under control, except when under the influence of catnip. Now, suddenly, her cat side seemed to be taking over. Baz had started night-prowling, slipping out the back door after dark on who knows what mission. Willa’s parents weren’t aware of these outings, but Willa woke up around midnight once and saw Baz out the window. The portly old lady was in the middle of a parade of neighbourhood cats walking tightrope along the top of a rickety old fence. In the mornings Dad often found a dead mouse or sparrow on the front step, and Willa felt certain that Baz was behind them. Willa begged her to behave, or at least to be more careful on those fences, but Baz’s only response was to narrow her eyes and grin malevolently. At least she spent her days safely napping on the living room couch.
That wasn’t all. Trouble was also brewing over the bird. The young phoenix was not a temporary visitor but a permanent addition to the family. As soon as she’d emerged from the flames of the house, the bird had been presented to Willa as her pet and her responsibility. This would not have been a problem if the bird had been more like her mother, Fadiyah, the wise old bird who had sacrificed herself to save Willa from the black worm. When Willa gazed into Fadiyah’s eyes she’d felt joy, confidence, and strength. Now Fadiyah was gone, and Willa felt a little lost in the world without her.
In contrast to
