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the basement and stampeded into the trees, trying to outrun the wasps. The scene was absolute mayhem, but Willa’s eye was caught by one dwarf, the last to come up out of the basement. In his hand he held a kind of a sprayer that Willa recognized. Her dad had one at home that he had used on their apple tree one year. It was for spraying bug poison.
    Willa grabbed Tengu’s arm and swung him around, pointing out the dwarf with the sprayer.
    â€œHe’s got poison! Stop him!”
    Tengu’s eyes blazed, and he zipped after the dwarf. The transition was astonishing. In the blink of an eye Tengu was a ninja, silent and lightning-quick . If he hadn’t tripped over a root, the dwarf would never have heard him coming.
    â€œOof!” Tengu landed heavily but shot out a hand and grabbed the dwarf’s ankle, sending him flying, the sprayer arcing through the air. Somehow Tengu let go of the dwarf, did a somersault and a leap and a dive, and caught the sprayer before landing on his head.
    The entire scene came to a complete standstill. Everyone stared. Tengu bounced up with the sprayer held triumphantly aloft.
    â€œGot it!”
    Willa exhaled, and Robert let out a low whistle.
    â€œThe little fella’s still got it. And once in a while he even knows what to do with it.”

Chapter Four
    Peace and other unsettling events
    T he Peace Conference began Sunday morning, and it was a solemn affair. Willa sat at the head of the table. Nine scowling dwarves sat along one side, and a menacing mob of fairies stood on the table facing them. Tengu and Robert watched from a safe distance. Willa suggested they start with formal introductions, mainly so she could finally learn the dwarves’ names. A sandy-haired dwarf stood and introduced himself as Fjalarr, then proceeded to name each of his companions: Radsvidr, Vindálfr, Svíurr, Aurvangr, Dólgthrasir, Hlévangr, Eikinskjaldi. The last to stand was their leader, who Fjalarr introduced as “Mjodvitnir, descendant of the mighty Vestri.”
    â€œAnd who was Vestri?” asked Willa.
    â€œYou do not know of Vestri?” sputtered Fjalarr in disbelief. “What do they teach in your schools? He was one of the four dwarves who held up the dome of the sky in ancient times!” Mjodvitnir bowed proudly.
    Robert snorted. “Nonsense. A Greek titan holds up the sky. Always has. Everyone knows that.”
    The dwarves bristled. Mjodvitnir leapt to his feet, fists at the ready. It was all Willa could do to get the discussion back on track. Sarah stepped forward to introduce the fairies.
    â€œHoneycup, Bergamot, Cowslip, Dewdrop, Mimsy, Oakleaf, Daisybell, Fluffpuff …”
    The dwarves snorted in amusement at the fairy names, and the fairies growled back at them.
    Then they got down to business. Fjalarr spoke for the dwarves, and Sarah represented the fairies, while Mjodvitnir and Mab sat grim and silent. The claims, counter-claims , and bargaining went on all morning. Maps of the property were made and boundaries were drawn. The dwarves were not to go into the woods and were absolutely forbidden to cut or in any way harm any plant or tree. In return, the construction area was off-limits to the fairies; they were not to interfere with the dwarves in any way. Willa carefully steered the discussion through these points, but what really clinched the deal was the exchange of gifts.
    â€œAn important tradition at these things,” whispered Tengu. “Good will and all that.”
    The fairies sulkily presented the dwarves with garlands of flowers. The dwarves were not impressed. They in turn presented the fairies with a small bundle of delicately wrought swords, all light and the perfect size for fairy hands. The stern expressions of the fairies melted at the sight of them, and they passed the swords around eagerly.
    Then the head dwarf himself, Mjodvitnir, held out his hand to Mab. In his palm was a pool of shimmering silver — a