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    Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html
    6/5/11 2:11 PM
    Outside on the street, Rachel, an old bag lady, hearing Heather's beautiful playing, rested her weak legs on the theatre steps.
    'I'm glad I heard something worthwhile before I die,' she murmured to herself, and warmed her insides on the good fairy's aura.
    Upstairs, Heather beamed at Dinnie.
    'Now you try.'
    Dinnie, his battered copy of The Gow Collection of Scottish Dance Music balanced uncomfortably on his knee, struggled his way through 'The Bridge of Balater'. The birds departed and Rachel was jerked unwillingly back to the land of the living. ,
    'Appalling,' said Heather, truthfully. 'But you will be better in no time. Now look. This symbol on the music means a turn, played like this . . . And that symbol means tremolo, played like this ... Try it.'
    Dinnie tried. He still produced a horrible noise. Heather sighed. She had far less patience as a teacher than she imagined.
    'Dinnie, I can see that desperate measures are called for. And you had better believe that this is a rare honour, granted to you only because you are a MacKintosh in trouble. Also because my ears won't stand much more. Hold out your hand.'
    She touched his fingers. Dinnie felt them go slightly warm.
    'Now try again.'
    Dinnie looked at his warm fingers, and tried again. For the first time ever, he managed to produce a sound which was tolerably close to being musical.
    Aelric squatted under a bush. It was deepest night, and all of Cornwall was quiet. His five followers sat behind him, tense and ready. At Aelric's sign, they fluttered into the air, flew over the shed containing the spinning looms, magicked fire into their hands, and set it alight.
    The shed burned brightly, but before the alarm was even raised Aelric and his followers had fled safely away into the night.
    Aelric was the leader of the Cornish Fairy Resistance Movement, and the one ray of hope for the fairies under their oppressive leaders. However, as his resistance movement consisted of just him and five others, and Tala was by far the most powerful ruler the kingdom had ever seen, his task seemed a hopeless one.
    Still, the burning of the weaving shed was a useful piece of economic sabotage. Aelric had learned about
    economic sabotage from a book on terrorist tactics he had found in a human library, and so far it seemed to be working well.
    Dinnie made some progress, but soon complained of sore fingers.
    'Play it again,' instructed Heather.
    'My fingers are sore.'
    'Haud your wheesht, you fat lump,' cried the fairy eventually.
    'Don't try your obscure Scottish expressions on me,' said Dinnie. 'And I would rather be a fat lump than an
    eighteen-inch freak in a tacky kilt.'
    'How dare you. And after me actually teaching you a tune.'
    'I would have learned it anyway.'
    Heather was outraged.
    'You have the natural talent of a haggis,' she said, and departed into the night.
    A very few people, like Kerry, are born with the natural ability to see fairies. Others, like Magenta, develop the ability through drinking strange potions like meths, boot polish and fruit juice.
    'I take it you are an other-worldly servant of Tissaphernes, Persian satrap of the region?' said Magenta.
    'No, I am Heather, a Scottish thistle fairy.'
    Magenta was not convinced, and gripped her sword.
    'Well I am Xenophon. I am leading the Greek mercenaries in aid of Cyrus, brother of King Antaxerxes, against
    that same Antaxerxes. And if you are a servant of his, tell him his end is nigh.'
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    Page 15 of 99
    Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html
    6/5/11 2:11 PM
    A car with speakers built into the back trundled past, vibrating the area with its music.
    I'd like to play my fiddle through a system like that, thought Heather, which made her think of her and Morag's plans for their band. This made her sad.
    Magenta marched off, firmly and happily fixed in