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Convinced I looked like a complete troll, I gathered the heavy skirts and ran up the stairs to the landing mirror. My face was framed by two tarnished silver rolls sticking up from my shoulders like sugared doughnuts. The top was cut square right across the middle of my chest and fit like it had been painted on. I smoothed my hands down my silver skirt and shook the liquid folds cautiously. They let out a clear, tinkling chime and a metallic tang of tarnish.

I sucked in my stomach and ran my fingers through my hair. It sprang up again, wild as ever. Then I noticed something.

“Hey, Astris,” I shouted. “I have a shape!”

Astris scurried up the steps, grabbed the neck of the dress, and tugged it sharply upward. The magic cloth obediently expanded to reach my collarbone. Then she patted the sleeves into a soft fluff, tore a strip off the hem, and tied it around my head with a bow over one ear.

“That’s better,” she said. “Come along now. We don’t want to be late.”

It was almost full dark when Astris and I took our places in the dance, with just a blush of deep blue in the west to remember the day by. At the center of the field, the Lady was a blaze of ruby and deep gold in a dress that fluttered like falling leaves around her bare brown arms and legs.

In the dance of the year, the Spring and Autumn Equinoxes are points of perfect balance. The Folk dance a reel around and around the Park, stepping—or floating, or slithering—behind each other. The trees fiddle on twigs and boughs; the rocks pound time; the grasses rustle. On a clear night, with the windows around the Park twinkling and the stars burning overhead, I can almost feel the world turning under my feet.

The music began. The Lady led and the Park Folk followed her, skipping and swaying over the grass. I closed my eyes and danced with them. Eventually, I’d get tired and drop out. But right now, I felt like I could dance forever.

Suddenly, the music faltered. My feet went on a few steps by themselves before stumbling over Astris, who squealed unhappily. Something was horribly wrong.

I wadded up my skirt and scrambled up the nearest tree.

The Folk milled aimlessly around Central Park Central, dazed and bewildered, bumping into each other, still half entranced. I climbed a little higher. In the center of the field I saw a clear space, and it in, the Lady, her arms crossed, her head thrown back, her crown of leaves blazing on the woven coils of her hair.

She was face-to-face with a mortal.

He stood out against the Folk like a boulder in a flower garden. He moved, and starlight glittered from the silver safety pins on his shiny black vest. I’d seen vests like that last summer on my quest. They were the official uniform of the merguards at the Court of the Mermaid Queen of New York Harbor.

My heart and hands were suddenly as cold as my moon-silver skirt.

The mortal bowed. “My Lady Genius of Central Park,” he shouted, loud and deep. “I am the Voice of the Mermaid Queen of New York Harbor. On this day of balance between light and dark, my mistress sends you greetings.”

The Lady’s hair burst angrily from its neat coil, scattering her crown of leaves. “I’ll just bet she does, buster. Let’s cut to the chase here. I’m not giving up the Magic Magnifying Mirror. My champion won it fair and square. You can tell old Fish Breath, from me, that she can put that in her water pipe and smoke it.”

By now, the Park Folk were listening intently. Those who had hands applauded.

The Voice of the Mermaid Queen ignored them. “My Lady Queen foresaw your answer. And she bade me say this: The Magnifying Mirror is part of New York Harbor, just as the trees and water and grass and stones are part of Central Park. It was given to her by the first mortal changeling at the Council of Inwood, and it cannot be taken from her without upsetting the balance of power. You must return it.”

The Green Lady’s hair writhed around her head. “Must, Fish Boy?”

“My Lady Queen,” the Voice went on, “says this: Return the mirror by the Winter Solstice