After she woke that morning, Cocot baked a batch of cookies for the Bounet Rodzos and a vegetable bread cake for herself. Every once in a while she would stop and stare at the door to Jean-Baptist's workroom. No knocks or voices came from it, but she imaginged she heard the dull rasping of a saw or file.

She had dreamed of walking to the fairy hall under the hill. Some images were so clear, she almost convinced herself the dream was real. Then she remembered putting on the dress. Dream and memories became tangled through the morning, until she didn't know which was which.

Had her mother spoken to her during her flight home? Perhaps it had been a forgotten conversation from years ago that surfaced in her sleep. And the unusual language the fairies had used? Her imagination. What was it the king had said? That he would rather keep her there with him than hold his position as king? Wishful thinking.

She squeezed her eyes shut to better see the hall and the dancers, for she was sure there were dancers, but all she could picture was a shadowed place with water flowing from the ground and a great throne that was shrouded in mist and grown over with ivy. The fairies had said something about a fountain. Or had her mother spoken of that?

By the time afternoon arrived, she was quite certain she was losing her mind, but she did not have any time to worry about it; she had to fetch Hector.

The old farmer was sitting on a rickety bench next to the barn, smoking a pipe. He also had a large glass of yellow beer, and he lifted first the pipe to inhale and then the beer to drink as he stared across his field. Cocot approached him from the dirt drive since she had felt compelled to take the long way to the farm. The stairs to the shortcut had been foreboding in their mossy greenness. A velvet carpet to the devil's lair.

Cocot reached the spot right in front of the farmer and she almost said good afternoon. The way he took his next drink stopped her. He swirled the beer in the glass, reading the future in the floating bits of foam and then threw back his head to finish it off. Someone who was alone would do that.

A cold pinch started aching high in her chest and Cocot could see the fairy king sitting before her. His whisper sighed, "A drop of Farafell's magic."

The old farmer—his beer finished and pipe held between his teeth, returned to the house. Rubbing the ache to ease the pain, Cocot went to wait by the vegetable garden. She told herself she should hate the man for making Daniel work constantly and never giving any thanks or kind word. No hatred came, however, only sorrow. The old man could not see what was right in front of his face; he was blinded by his own loneliness and long days.

She grew bored with waiting and decided to weed the garden. It had been weeks since she had to do hers and, of all her chores, it was the one she actually enjoyed. An hour later, halfway through the rows of carrots, the field fairies arrived to flit in circles over her pile of weeds.

"Did you find them?" asked Soufflé from behind her.

Cocot startled and whirled. "What are you talking about?"

"The great fairies under the hill," Soufflé prompted when she frowned at him.

"The great fairies?" she asked. Tall graceful dancers twirled before her eyes; the flash of jewels, silver, shining cloth and sword blades were dazzling.

"Can you remember?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so. Why is it hazy? More dream than memory?"

He landed lightly between the rows of turnips. "You are not fully fairy, yet. That's why."

"That doesn't make any sense. I see you, I remember you."

"Do not imagine I have the same power as the fairy king and his court under the hill. Their magic makes you forget, but if you were all fairy, you would not be affected so much. Did you hear the music?"

"It was beautiful."

"What did the fairies say when they saw you?" he asked.

"What..." She asked herself the question silently. Something about water babbling over stones, willow leaves rustling and that the moon was deceptive—always waxing and waning, especially waning like her mother. They spoke of a passageway, a fountain, and something her mother had to fix; no matter the cost to her spirit or mind.

"Coquelicot, what did the king say when he saw your dress?"

"He banished me," she said, remembering his words with startling clarity. "I am never to return. You were right to tell me not to go."

"I wish for once I had been wrong," he said, wings drooping and shoulders sagging. "Usually, I quite enjoy being right, but this time, I would have liked for that king to have proven me wrong. It's all about politics, you understand."

"No, it's not. It's about family, and I am not part of his, even if my mother was. I'm beginning to understand why she left them," said Cocot bitterly. Who would choose to stay in that nest of hornets without one friendly, loving soul to trust and confide in? They never would have accepted her mother's love of a human, just as they would never accept her—part human, part poppy flower. She shook her head. Where had that thought come from? She was part human and part fairy.

Her chest ached under her collar bone. One drop of Farafell's magic....

"What are you doing working in this garden?" Soufflé asked.

"I'm waiting for Daniel to bring Hector back from town. He changed his shoes for me. If you want a cookie, I left out a plate at the chalet for the Bounet Rodzos."

"They must have eaten them already. The plate was empty when I passed by earlier. Well, I'll let you work." He dipped his head in farewell and popped up in the air.

"Soufflé, wait. Will you tell me what went wrong with the fountain—the fountain in Lessoc that my mother had to fix?"

"You shouldn't trouble yourself with these old tales and fairy rumors, Coquelicot. I will come by later and we can have tea."

"Come back, Soufflé!" she called. "Please." He paused hovering a few feet away. "I know that something terrible happened at the fountain, and my mother had to do something to it. I also know that she met Jean-Baptist there and now his ghost is trapped in the workroom in my chalet. If you would tell me whatever it is you know...to help me understand."

"There's nothing to understand, except that you would be safer far, far away from here—"

"At least tell me why."

He fluttered to the dirt, sighing. "All right. I will tell you what I have heard, which may or may not be true."

Cocot sat down, drawing her knees to her chest.

He had to clear his throat several times before beginning his story. "You already know the human legend—the thirsty horse that seemed to swallow the moon," he said. "The story I heard was that a crack into the fairy realm opened in the fountain and a source of evil leaked into the water. The evil tried to swallow the moon, so the humans were actually right to build the roof over the basin, but a roof alone would never have been enough. The Bounet Rodzos were the creatures who alerted the king. He wanted the evil for himself, it is said, and he sent his sisters to the collect the evil that escaped into the world. Once a year, they set a bottle over the crack and once a year, when the bottle was full, they drew it from the water, leaving an empty bottle behind. They took each full bottle away; no one knew where, apart from the king. After they died, his niece performed this task, until one day she disappeared. On that day, the crack was sealed. The one who told me the story believes she never gave the final bottle to the king, hiding it instead, possibly along with the others she filled. It would be...unimaginable if even one of those bottles fell in the wrong hands, the king's hands. Coquelicot—"

"But no one knows for sure what she did with them. They might have been destroyed."

"Such a thing would be difficult for even the most powerful fairy magician to accomplish. Child, the Bounet Rodzos say the evil in the fountain drove the King's sisters mad. I regret, but I must tell you, too; they say the king's niece Farafell wandered the hills and forests mindlessly, pacing along the edges of the town for a year up to the day she disappeared."

"You think she went mad, don't you?"

"The one who told me the story thinks so."

"Who is it?" she asked. "Who told you these things?"

"One who...befriended me; took me in when I had no one else."

She sucked her breath in sharply. "You never told me you had a friend!"

"I...she would not want me to talk about her. She aided me and I am indebted to her, that is all," he replied.

"How does she know the story?"

"She was there. She saw it—part of it, at least."

"She knew my mother? She saw her when she was Farafell or when she was Fanchon?"

Soufflé blinked in confusion, as though it had not occurred to him before that Farafell had changed and transformed in Fanchon; that some creatures would be able to see her as one but not the other.

For Cocot, however, several pieces of the puzzle were falling in place. What her mother had fixed was the crack that allowed evil to escape into the basin; that was why she warned Cocot not to drink from the fountain. Her mother had been known as Farafell among the great fairies, but after she fell in love with Jean-Baptist, she became the human Fanchon. Upon this change, she disappeared to the fairy creatures—they no longer recognized her for some reason. Finally, the bottle in the root cellar was the last bottle of evil that her mother had collected before sealing the crack.

Cocot was the only living creature who knew it was hidden beneath the workroom. But Jean-Baptist might have known before he died, or his shadow might have found it. Then there was the creature who saw Fanchon and befriended Soufflé. They both knew it was somewhere.

Soufflé did not answer her question.

"Where is this creature who saw my mother? I would like to talk to her," Cocot pressed on, in spite of the fear sending its cold tendrils through her stomach and chest.

"No. No, you don't. It would not be wise and she could tell you no more than I already have. You understand now that your mother kept a dangerous secret—the hiding place of the bottles she took from Lessoc. You also see that keeping this secret is important," he said and paused to take a deep breath. "Unless there was someone you could trust. If you could trust someone to watch over the hiding place, you would be free to go. You should go, because even simply living near the evil, thinking about it all the time could drive you mad. Coquelicot, you do understand, yes?"

"I understand...perfectly well," she said, a distant image welling up from the depths of her unconscious mind: a sword blade at her throat, its wielder ready to perform his given duty. Her mother, too, had been given a duty.

"I am your friend, child. I want you to believe that," he said, chagrin deepening the frown lines in his face.

"I know you are, Soufflé. I know you are simply watching out for me."

"Now that you've see the great fairies for yourself and you know they are not all goodness and kindness, you know they don't want you and would not hesitate to force you to reveal Fanchon's secrets. They would come for you, if they suspected anything."

She nodded in agreement.

"But, you're not alone," he continued when she remained silent. "I am here with you." His frown lifted briefly in a faltering smile.

She nodded again, whispering, "I know I'm not alone." Her throat tightened.

I have Hector.

He flicked his wings, as though waiting for her to continue, perhaps to tell him her secrets. When she didn't, he bowed in farewell.

"Soufflé," she said, reaching out a hand.

He looked up through his bushy caterpillar eyebrows.

"The evil in the fountain must be desperately lonely to want the whole moon for company," she said.

"You mustn't imagine such things," he said firmly. "It doesn't feel as we do, and it certainly would never feel lonely. This is one of its tricks—clouding your mind, making you feel sorry for it. Coquelicot, is there anything you want to share with me?"

"But then why did it try to swallow the moon? It's not possible," she insisted.

"You are right. A powerful magician could try to use moonlight to destroy the evil, dry up the source. Perhaps the evil acted on some instinct to try and steal its light or poison the moon itself. That would be a catastrophe for all fairy creatures."

"Did your friend tell you this?"

"No, the Bounet Rodzos. When the leak first sprang, their kind overheard the king when he came with a few members of the court to inspect the fountain. The magician at the court explained what had happened with the moon."

"Was my mother there?"

"I don't know. This would have been before she was born or when she was very young."

"Why didn't they seal the crack right away?"

"I was told the old court magician tried and failed. He also warned the king that if he succeeded, the evil might very well create another opening, somewhere else, but the great fairies would not know where."

"So they left it open on purpose to keep watch." This made some sense to Cocot. "Soufflé, why don't you come for tea tomorrow?"

"Will you promise to be careful and think about what I've said?" he asked. "You must also take the long road home and not the shortcut."

"I promise."

After he flew away, she returned to her task of weeding. The monotony and simplicity of the work soothed her nerves and the heat of the sun on her back and head melted the fear that Soufflé had instilled.

He was wrong about the evil, though. It was lonely; she could feel its loneliness calling to her from both the fountain and the bottle in the cellar. She worked and waited for Daniel until nearly seven o'clock that evening. She did not dare wait for him any later.

*** A very powerful magician could try to use moonlight to destroy the evil... ***