The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen - Delia Sherman [62]
“So where’s Tiffany?” Airboy burst out impatiently.
I sighed. “New York’s a big city. She could be anywhere.”
Stonewall shook his head. “She’s ugly now, remember? Mother Carey would send her where nobody would care what she looks like.”
Mukuti gasped. “You mean, she sent her Outside?”
Bergdorf looked shocked. “Even Mother Carey’s not that evil. No, she’s got to be in the other place, where changelings go when they lose their looks.”
“There’s a place for that?”
Bergdorf shot me a disbelieving look. “Like your fairy godmother isn’t threatening you with it all day and night? I almost ended up there when I got zits. I swear, I have nightmares about it.”
“Me, too,” Danskin said. “The Artistic Director wanted to send me there when I broke my arm, but my fairy godfather persuaded him that I could be fixed.”
Airboy said, “The Mermaid Queen doesn’t care what you look like. On the other hand, when she gets mad at you, she drowns you, so I guess it all evens out.”
And I’d felt sorry for myself for being thrown out of the Park.
“Right,” Stonewall said. “Different strokes, I guess. In City Neighborhoods, they mostly send their unwanted changelings to the Bowery.”
Even in the Park, we knew that the Bowery was all about junk. The Bowery Bum collected it: broken talismans, outgrown bogeymen, worn-out spells, out-of-work hobgoblins, cracked mirrors, bad-luck demons, nicked swords, lost hopes, bad fairies of many lands.
And broken-down changelings, apparently.
“The Bowery,” I said. “Great. The worst Neighborhood in New York Between. Anybody got a magic sword I can borrow? A Helmet of Invisibility? A Horse Swifter Than the Wind?”
Nobody laughed.
Espresso burst out, “That rule about flying solo, that’s just off-time jive. I’m going with you.”
I was trying to think of some way of saying no without hurting her feelings when Airboy beat me to it. “I’m Neef’s sidekick,” he said. “I’ll go.”
I opened my mouth to ask if he had a quest pass, then closed it again. Some questions it’s better not to ask.
Chapter 18
RULE 165: STUDENTS MUST NEVER CURSE, ILL-WISH, OR USE STRONG LANGUAGE IN THE PRESENCE OF ANOTHER MORTAL.
Miss Van Loon’s Big Book of Rules
There’s always a three-day weekend around Hallowe’en, so at least I knew exactly when I’d be going to the Bowery. In the meantime, all I had to do was at least pretend to pay attention to my lessons. Questing? Piece of cake. Mortal History? Not so much.
When I wasn’t trying to sit still, I was drinking dirty milk at the Mansion and trying to make plans. What made this difficult was that nobody really knew much about the actual Bowery. Espresso, who was turning into a Folk lorist Astris would have been proud of, was full of fun facts about roving gangs of snappily dressed Bowery Boys and their little silver knives, and rogue vampires who drank fairy blood even though they were allergic to it because it gave them beautiful dreams. But not even Stonewall knew where changelings went once they’d been banished there.
The whole thing was starting to give me nightmares.
Airboy finally lost patience.
“The Bowery runs into the Canal,” he said. “The Canal runs into the East River on the Lower East Side. I’ll meet you on the Grand Street pier two hours after dawn. Then we’ll play it by ear.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
The next morning, I paced the dock at the south end of Grand Street, watching the water for Airboy.
It was frost spirit weather, touched with a chill wind and the promise of rain. I dug my hands into the pockets of my black coat and wished I’d asked Astris for an umbrella.
The pier was busy. Two trollish longshoremen in homburgs staggered by, carrying a huge wooden crate between them. “Out of the way, maidele,” one grunted. “You want