The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen - Delia Sherman [81]
And then the Diplomat handed us each a gold star.
I’d never really noticed that gold stars were beautiful. Maybe it was because this one was new. Maybe it was because this one was mine. It shone with a glory of pure and golden light around a tiny, intense, five-pointed center. It was magic—not the kind of magic that does anything, just the kind of magic that is wonderful and mysterious and, well, magical.
I looked up at the Diplomat. “This is a greater honor than I can ever deserve.”
“Your modesty does you credit, Neef. But you do deserve it, or I wouldn’t give it to you. Be careful, though. One quest’s diplomatic initiative can be another quest’s diplomatic incident. Do you understand me?”
I did. And suddenly, I understood Rule 0, too. “I do, Diplomat.”
“Airboy, Neef, these gold stars mean that you need not attend Diplomacy anymore. But I hope that you will continue your lessons, at least until Winter Solstice.”
“Certainly, Diplomat,” I said. And I meant it, too. There was a lot I wanted to learn, especially about crisis management.
And that was that.
Our table picked up a bunch of new lunchers that day. Some Tech-heads, eager to geek out about the Mermaid’s mirror. Fortran was in his element. Mukuti made nice to a couple of renegade East Siders, while Espresso talked Folk lore and poetry with a mixed group of West Siders, Spanish Harlemites, and Villagers. Woolworth sat glowering at the end of the table, bracketed by Danskin and Stonewall, who were sparkling at everyone, planting the seeds, I realized, of future alliances.
I opened Satchel and pulled out my lunch: white cheese, black bread, an apple. Across the table Airboy grinned and offered me a piece of fish.
RULE 0: STUDENTS MAY BREAK ANY RULE IN THE BOOK IF,
AFTER CAREFUL CONSIDERATION OF ALL THE ALTERNATIVES
AND POSSIBLE CONSEQUENCES, THEY DECIDE THAT THEY
REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO.
Neef’s Guide to Supernatural Beings
Arranged in alphabetical order, with country of origin, where known. All the Folk in this list are traditional, except the ones marked “Literary Characters” or “New York Between,” who don’t appear in any of the old lists but exist anyway. Astris says it’s important to remember that there are non-traditional Folk all over the world, not just in New York Between, but the New York ones are the only ones I’ve met.
Apopa (Inuit): A kind of dwarf. They’re supposed to be truly hideous and misshapen and deformed, but I’ve never seen one, so who knows? Maybe it’s just bad press related to their habit of playing nasty tricks on people.
Banshee (Ireland): A spirit who flies around wailing when someone important is going to die. Think nails across a blackboard. Now turn up the volume. Now think of the saddest sound you ever heard. That’s what a banshee’s wail sounds like.
Black Dog/Gabriel Hound (England): Bad dogs. Very, very bad dogs. They lead you astray, they attack you with their foot-long teeth, they foretell your death. They tend to show up at intersections and on bridges, and they have glowing red eyes.
Brownie/Kobold(Europe): Household spirits. They’re all about cleaning and helping around the house. They’ll do anything: laundry, mending, scrubbing the stove. They’ll even wash windows. They’re all pretty small (about knee-high) and skinny. There are differences, though. The Brownies (from England) are brown (duh) and shaggy-haired and have webbed hands. You can make them go away by giving them new clothes and saying “Thank you.” Kobolds (from Germany) are gray and bald and much crabbier than brownies. They take their milk with dirt, and think everybody else should, too.
Centaur(Greece): Half man, half horse, with the man part at the front. Chiron, the Green Lady’s Councilor, is a Literary