The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen - Delia Sherman [49]
Two days later, the Schooljuffrouw finally declared a weekend. One day, which didn’t give me much time.
Next morning, bright and early, I told Astris I was going questing. She tried to make me wear an extra sweater, gave me some Autumn cookies wrapped up in a napkin, put a spell on my laces so I wouldn’t trip on them, and reminded me that heroes never played with their hair.
That’s Astris for you.
As I rode the Betweenways to the Garment District, I found myself missing my fairy twin, Changeling. She’d been a big part of my last quest. Sure, she melted down every time things got too tense, but she’d fixed the Producer of Broadway’s computer and even figured out how the magic mirror worked. I missed her perfect memory, her knack of asking just the right question. But most of all, I missed how we both knew what it was like not to fit in anywhere.
I sure didn’t fit in the Garment District.
When I exited the Betweenways station, I shoved through the crowds of chattering Fashion Folk on Seventh Avenue. Huge metal racks stuffed with clothes trundled past me like charging trolls, piloted by teams of kobolds, one pushing and one pulling, neither one looking where he was going. As I watched, a brownie arced through the air, landed on top of a rack, and was swept away downtown, swearing and threatening.
If I was lucky, Elizabeth Factor would be on this side of Seventh Avenue. If I wasn’t, I’d just have to cope. Either way, I only had one day to find her, so I had to get started. I turned to an elf standing beside me with a heap of turquoise ruffles boiling out of his arms. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where I can find Elizabeth Factor?”
He stepped into the traffic and disappeared without even looking at me.
It was the same with the other Fashion Folk I approached. It was like I didn’t exist. I tried standing in their way, yelling and waving my hands. They just stepped around me.
I decided to try the models. Impossibly tall, skinny as giraffes, they prowled the sidewalk on tiny, tiptoe feet, pouting beautifully. One struck a pose against a lamppost, and a cloud of brownies with black boxes appeared. There was a tiny storm of flashing and clicking, then the model waved her long, pink-tipped fingers, and the brownies disappeared again.
The model was tall and skinny and polished, very like Tiffany. She made me feel dusty and short and fuzzy.
They’re just Folk,I told myself. You can talk to Folk. Plus, you have the Pooka’s coat. That’s got to count for something.
I marched up to the nearest model. She was dark-haired for a change, and carrying a hairless dog like an oversized gerbil in a pale lavender tote. The tote matched her fluffy coat and echoed the startling deep amethyst of her huge, shadowy eyes. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me. I’m a mortal changeling. I’m on a quest for a glamourist. Can you help me?”
The model’s eyelashes were long and curly, and her eyelids were smeared with smoky gray. When she blinked, it looked like window shades going up and down. “Huh?”
I tried again. “I’m looking for a glamourist.”
The window shades went all the way up. “Duh. I mean, look at you. Ugly, much? I just got myself redone. Whaddya think?”
She gave a practiced twirl, struck a graceful pose. There was a small local lightning storm of brownies and flashbulbs. When it passed over, the model wandered off, her gerbil-dog barking at me from her tote.
Beautiful. And as dumb as a park bench.
“Fashion emergency! Mannequin coming through!”
I spun right into the path of a small, wiry supernatural in a big black hat like a saucer with an upside-down cup on it. He cannoned into me and fell over on top of the strange, stick-like thing he’d been towing. His dog, which looked like a puffball with legs, bounced around my feet, growling like a zipper. Apologizing, I caught the puffball while he disentangled himself from the stick.
“Give me that!” he screeched, grabbing the puffball and tucking it under his arm. “And get out of my way! I have to get this mannequin to a glamourist!