not talking to her, still mad about that.
Willa sat up. Her brain cleared a bit and things started falling into place. She rose and opened the dollhouse. Mab scowled at her from the sofa, where she was knitting her silvery scarf.
“Mab, I need to ask you something.” Mab squinted her eyes into slits, but Willa went on. “None of us are getting any rest when we sleep. I’m not sure why. We sleep and sleep but we’re still tired.”
Mab rolled her eyes in irritation. “It’s not the sleep, it’s the dreams!” she snapped.
Willa thought this over. “We’re sleeping but we’re not dreaming. And that’s why we’re so tired?”
Mab gave her a look. Willa pressed on. “You are the only one in this house who isn’t tired. You’re the only one who’s still dreaming, aren’t you?”
Mab let out a noncommittal squeak and turned away, clickety-clacking with her knitting needles.
Willa spoke sharply. “Mab!”
The fairy turned back, looking like a child who’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Willa softened her tone.
“Mab, please. Do you know why we’re not dreaming?” Mab dropped her eyes and nodded. “Are you the one who’s causing it?” Another nod. “What are you doing? Can you undo it?” A shrug and Mab turned away again. Willa waited a moment, then quietly closed the dollhouse again. She felt a wave of relief. At least their weariness wasn’t the result of sinister forces. Just a peeved fairy.
Later that evening Willa gathered everyone in the parlour. She knelt by the dollhouse. “Oh Maa-aab,” she called softly. “May we come in?”
The clicking needles stopped. Willa waited a moment and opened the dollhouse. Mab looked surprised to see everyone.
“Mab, I’m so sorry I left you locked up after the dinner party. I promise I won’t ever do it again.” Willa held out the dollhouse’s tiny key and set it gently on the bed.
Horace cleared his throat gently. “We’re all sorry, Mab. We’re sorry we don’t treat you with the respect you deserve.” Mab looked expectantly at the others, who begrudgingly nodded ... even Belle. Baz produced a small tray filled with tiny cakes and real, Mab-sized teacups and saucers.
“Sorry, dearie,” Baz smiled as she set the tray carefully inside the dollhouse.
Mab picked up a teacup, turning it over in her hands. Willa had noticed that Mab drank from thimbles, so she had scoured the stores for a teeny tea service. Mab appreciated it, she could tell, for the little fairy hugged the cup to her chest, sniffling a little and not looking up.
“Can you forgive us? Can you forgive me?” Willa pleaded.
Mab wiped her nose with the back of her hand and looked up at them all, her eyes glistening. She nodded quickly.
That night Willa slept. She really slept, and dreamed. The dreams fell from her mind as she opened her eyes to the early morning light, but she felt light and happy. The heavy curtain of exhaustion had lifted. She practically bounced out of bed.
In the dining room Willa saw a rare and welcome sight. Robert and Belle were chatting amiably over toast and jam. Tengu stopped shovelling down scrambled eggs to wave cheerfully, and Horace nodded and grinned. Baz bustled in from the kitchen, dumping fresh-baked scones into a basket. Tengu grabbed three and began juggling them. The mood was one of barely-contained giddiness. Willa took a seat.
“I trust you slept well?” inquired Horace.
Willa nodded. “And I dreamed, too.”
“So did I.” Horace nodded thoughtfully. “I dreamt
I was looking out the window at something ... a horse, I think.”
Something shifted in Willa’s memory and she felt suddenly chilled. Her own dream was reassembling itself in her mind. A black night, a white moon, a pounding sound, a dark shape in the streetlight.
“A black horse,” she whispered. Silence fell over the table. She looked around. The smiles had faded.
“A black horse!”
“Yes! Me too!”
“Now I remember!”
“With red eyes!”
Baz sank into a chair, looking worried. “How could we all have the same dream?”
Willa looked around at them all. “That black horse is the same one I saw before Miss Trang left. A black horse with red eyes that ran down the street on two legs.” Her hands were cold and trembled in her lap at the memory.
“Indeed,” murmured Horace. “And now he’s shown up in our dreams. He’s been looking for us.”
Belle finished his thought, speaking in a low, hoarse voice. “And now he’s found us.”
Horace nodded. Willa’s heart sank.
Chapter Ten
Augury and fog
“But he’s just in our dreams ... is he real? Why was he looking for us? What’s he going to do? What should we do?”
Willa looked anxiously to Horace, who was frowning and staring into his tea. The whole group waited in silence for a long moment while he thought. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“The horse is a Grant, and yes, he is real. All too real. However, we don’t need to worry about him so much. He was sent to find us and his job is done.”
“He was sent?” Willa fought to keep calm.
“The Grant is sent by his masters to scout about and find people. When you saw him that first time, Miss Trang knew it was a bad sign, that something evil was brewing, but she never thought he might be searching for us. If she had, she wouldn’t have left.”
Horace took a sip of his tea before going on. “But now ... now it appears that he was looking for us. He roamed the streets and roads of the dreamworld, searching. When Mab stopped us from dreaming, without knowing it she also prevented the Grant from being able to find us.”
Belle passed a pale hand over her eyes. “And when we were able to dream again, he found us. In our dreams.”
Willa leaned forward. “But why was he looking for us? Who sent him?”
Horace straightened his spoon. “The Other Side sent him.”
Robert stomped a hoof in irritation, rattling the cups. “Rubbish. What on earth would the Other Side want with a pathetic collection of old farts like us? What good are we to anyone?”
“I ... I’m not sure.” Horace rubbed his forehead. He suddenly looked very old. “I need to think....” He struggled to his feet and left the room. The others exchanged worried looks. Willa was still frantic
