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It was after dark before Raven let them make camp. Philothea fell asleep the moment she lay down and didn’t wake until the sun was well above the horizon. Before she opened her eyes, she heard a pair of familiar voices chattering back and forth so quickly, it was a wonder they could breathe.
“You’re a good girl,” Pouli chirped. “You’re so pretty.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Fae laughed. “You say so, little one.”
Philothea opened her eyes and was delighted to see the two birds perched side by side on a nearby branch.
Pouli twirled his wings and broke into song:
“Fae is an angry girl, and full of righteous rage,
Fae came after Pouli and freed him from his cage!
She is such a pretty bird, as lovely as can be.
A birdy, oh so charming, and beautiful like me!
Raven was sitting with her back to a tree, smoking her pipe. When she noticed Philothea sitting up, she said, “Guess who’s back?”
“I noticed,” Philothea grinned.
“It’s hard not to,” came Zoe’s grumpy voice from a shrub opposite Philothea. She fluffed herself awake and then fluttered to a bramble beside Raven.
“You know, I’ve never seen a lady who smokes a pipe,” Zoe observed.
“Well, I bet you’ve never seen a lady pop a starling in her fist, but you might if you don’t learn to mind your business,” Raven retorted.
That put a quick end to the conversation.
Philothea devoured a breakfast of bread and cheese. She was still hungry when she finished, but Raven wouldn’t let her have any more.
“We’ve got to stretch our rations,” she explained.
“Can’t Philothea just magic more rations?” Zoe asked. “She magiced butter just the other day!”
“Magic is not a verb,” Raven chided.
“Are you really correcting my grammar now?” Zoe asked, her feathers inflating.
“As long as you want to be human so badly, you should at least try to speak properly,” Raven remarked.
Zoe somehow inflated more, but before she could make a retort, Raven jumped in. “And no, she can’t just ‘magic’ more rations, at least not indefinitely. Every time she uses magic, she expends energy. It takes some energy to actually perform the magic and some energy to create the bread.”
Philothea wasn’t completely sure what Raven was talking about. She regarded her with her head cocked hoping she could elaborate.
“For example,” Raven began. “Philothea eats a loaf of bread, then uses the energy she gained to make another loaf of bread. Well, since she expended some of the energy she gained, the second loaf would be a little smaller. She eats that one, makes another, and it’s a little smaller still…” She twirled her hand in the air. “And so on and so forth. At least, that’s how it works with fae. Half-bloods? Who knows?”
“I see,” Philothea mumbled. She felt her stomach rumble and wondered how much food she would need to eat to make up for all the magic she used yesterday.
“Maybe we should find a village?” Philothea suggested. “Work a little in exchange for more rations?”
Raven bit her lip thoughtfully. “Pouli?” she asked.
“I’m a good boy,” Pouli answered.
“Where do Philothea’s parents live?”
“In a big white house with towers and statues and flags and–”
“No, Pouli,” Raven corrected. “What is the name of the kingdom they rule?”
Pouli flipped his head upside down. “It is a pretty place,” Pouli whistled. “There are trees and vineyards with lots of grapes. Purple grapes and red grapes and green grapes…” his pupils shrank, and he went into a sort of trance as he listed off all the different kinds of grapes.
Raven sighed.
“What is the name of the king?” she tried.
“Cyrus!” Pouli chirped. “King Cyrus. He has a pretty hat.”
Ravens ‘ faces showed no sign of recognition at the name.
“Do you know him?” Philothea prodded hopefully.
Her mentor shook her head. “There’s a human village one day east. Maybe we’ll get some more rations there and find out if anyone knows about this King Cyrus. If Pouli gets separated from us again, it’s best we know where we are going.”
Philothea nodded. Then smiled at the idea of being in a human village again. Not only would she be able to get some real food, but she could hold a conversation with people who didn’t know she was a terrifying, all-powerful half-fae. It would be a chance to feel normal again.
“We can’t stay there long and have to avoid drawing attention to ourselves,” Raven continued.
“How are we going to do that when three of us are talking birds and one of us is a fae?” Zoe asked.
“It isn’t the first time I’ve been there,” Raven shrugged. “I visit occasionally when I need the work.”
“What kind of work?” Philothea asked.
“Boring practical magic mostly,” Raven shrugged. “I cure minor illnesses, repair equipment, soften the top soil so it’s easier to plow… I’ll take any work if the pay is good. I make enough that I don’t have to visit very often, which is even better.”
Philothea hadn’t thought about the practical side of magic. She could probably help a lot of people if she ever figured out how to use her powers properly.
“They’ll start swarming Fae and me the second we arrive,” Raven explained. “Given how much of their labor goes to supporting our dear sweet emperor, they are desperate for whatever help they can get.”
Philothea couldn’t help but notice Zoe fluffing up out of the corner of her eye. She must have been thinking of her dad. On the few occasions he came to the temple to see them, he always looked so weary and thin. So did most of the village people now that she thought about it. Zeno got the first pick of everything, and he always took the best for himself.
“Fae and I won’t be a remarkable sight,” Raven continued, “The rest of you, well…”
Raven stretched and shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’ve got a whole day to figure it out. You all ready to go?”
As they made off, a question occurred to Philothea.
“Raven?” she asked.
“Mm hmm?” Raven answered.
“You said you sometimes cure illnesses,” Philothea continued.
“Once in a while,” Raven shrugged.
“Why couldn’t you, or… another fae, cure Princess Keti?”
Raven decided to embrace her role as mentor by answering Philothea’s question with another question.
“Zoe is human, normally, correct?”
“Normally,” Zoe grumbled.
“And when she is human, she has human muscles, correct?” Raven pressed.
“Um…” Philothea scrunched her brow as she tried to figure out what Raven was getting at. “Well, yes… but…”
“I know I’m skinny, but you shouldn’t have to think about that,” Zoe complained.
“Yet,” Raven continued. “She can’t lift an anvil.”
Zoe’s feathers stood on end. “Who says I can’t?”
“Can you lift an anvil?” Raven asked doubtfully.
“No,” Zoe admitted. “Well, maybe a little tiny one, like for making jewe–.”
“The point is,” Raven interrupted. “Magic is like muscle; some people are stronger than others. Some fae are more powerful than others. The strongest man in the world couldn’t lift a mountain, and there are some illnesses even the most skilled of fae healers can’t cure.”
“But Philothea is, magically speaking, super buff,” Zoe elaborated.
The image of herself with great bulging muscles popped into Philothea’s mind and made her so hysterical she could hardly breathe. As she doubled over, clutching her stomach, Zoe puffed herself up proudly.
While Philothea, the half-fae, was in many ways a demigod, Zoe, the ordinary human, possessed the power many an older sister holds over a younger–that is, the power to incapacitate with a couple of well-timed words.
The Fables of Para Sympan 