The Fairy's Tale

Chapter Two

Depressed and without a new Plot to watch, Bea arrived home. She lived in a one-room apartment on the fourth floor of a building that gave the impression time had started demolishing it when it had become clear no one else was going to. It was square, crumbling and carried in its design the nightmares of a thousand bored architectural students.

Built using materials from Voriias, the Fifth Kingdom of Thaiana, Bea's home was situated near the wall that surrounded Ænathlin, an area of the city that was considered seedy even by the low standards of the fae. As a result, she found herself stepping over a puddle of what looked like vomit and smelled like pure alcohol to get into the reception.

She walked over to the desk where Ivor, definitely a gnome and technically the building's supervisor, was listlessly flicking marbles into a cracked pint glass. Ivor was as Bea remembered him: hunched over some lonely game, swaddled in a thick woollen coat, collar up and sleeves hanging long over his bony hands.

"Back again?" he asked, disinterested.

"Back again." It seemed pointless to deny it.

"Heh," he snorted, reaching under the desk for her key. "Turned down again?"

"Just give me my key, please."

"You got your rent?"

Bea handed over one of her ration tokens, which Ivor snatched up. He pulled his lips back in what was probably meant to be a smile, but instead resembled the rictus grin of a corpse. "Don't know why you bother. They ain't gonna take the likes of you."

"Rags To Riches, Ivor," Bea said, reaching across the desktop to take her key.

"Right, right. And you think you're legit now, do you? Think they'll let you into their little club?" Ivor replied. "You know the Teller, whocaresaboutus, don't get me wrong, but he don't like to give us choices."

"Maybe. I don't need a choice, do I?"

"What is it you need then?"

"A chance, Ivor, just a chance."

The gnome stuttered out a laugh. "A drink before you go up?" he asked, reaching into the black hole that seemed to exist under the counter and pulling out a cheap-looking bottle of tobacco-coloured liquid. He popped the cork with the ball of his thumb, not trusting his rotten teeth to manage the task, and waved it at her. The smell that reached Bea made her eyes water in a manner that was both terrifying and deeply tempting.

"What is it?" she asked, already knowing she didn't want an answer.

"Just a drink," Ivor shrugged, passing her the bottle.

"Where's it from?"

"Here."

"Ænathlin?" Bea whistled through her teeth. "Things must be bad."

"Just don't ask me what it's made of. Can't get hold of anything from Thaiana now, s'too expensive. I don't suppose...?"

Be smiled, and reached into her bag. She pulled out a set of playing cards, their edges frayed. "How could I forget you?" she said, handing Ivor the cards. "I took them from a pub, while all the background characters were asleep. Mortal gods, I hate Plot-watching."

"Least you get out of Ænathlin," Ivor said, flicking through the cards. Bea had long ago given up on him ever thanking her for the games she smuggled in for him. She didn't mind. Ivor gave her somewhere to live at a rent she could afford, and he wasn't a fairy-hater.

"Go on. Drink up," Ivor said, putting the cards away. "Where were you, anyway? Been gone long enough."

"Nowhere, really," Bea gulped, swallowing the burning liquid with the expertise of a sword-swallower – careful not to let it touch the sides. "Just watching a girl sleeping. It was a stupid story. I made – I could have made it much better. If they'd let me."