tiny suit of delicately wrought chain mail, which Fjalarr explained was as light as a feather but totally impervious to sword, spear, or arrow. Mab slipped it on and spun around, glinting in the sunlight. Holding her new sword high, she fairly sparked with delight; Willa could hear her sizzling.
As the fairies conferred, the dwarves sat very tall, obviously proud of their handiwork. Sarah and four other fairies brought another gift, a magic refilling pitcher full of thick, sweet cream for the dwarvesâ coffee. And Mab herself presented a velvet bag to Mjodvitnir, explaining that the sand within, when sprinkled over their closed eyes, would bring restful slumber and sweet dreams of their distant home in the mountains. This touched the dwarves deeply. A couple of them wiped their eyes, and Eikinskjaldi turned his back to blow his nose with a thunderous roar.
Willa sat back in relief. There were smiles and friendly chatter on all sides now. Tengu gave her a thumbs up, but Robert frowned as the dwarves and fairies began making flowery speeches and toasting each other with cups of nectar.
âA truce! How absolutely boring!â he grumbled.
âDonât fret, Robert,â Willa grinned. âHappy dwarves and fairies mean productive work and a nice warm place for you to sleep before the snows come.â
âHmph! Iâll believe it when I see it!â
Willa slipped away from the happy scene to check on Horace. The birders were in their usual Sunday hangout, a cheap and cheerful diner near Horaceâs hotel. As soon as she walked in, Willa knew something was wrong. The birders were scattered across three separate booths, chatting over sandwiches and bottomless cups of coffee, but Horace was sitting by himself in a lone window seat, frowning over a notebook. Willa nodded to the Hackers before sliding in across from Horace.
âHi, Horace, whatâs up?â
Horace didnât answer. He was absorbed in sketching the head and curved beak of a bird. Willa cleared her throat and tried again.
âHorace. Earth to Horace.â
â Ha-ha -ha! Earth to Horace indeed!â Mr. Hacker was looming over them, beaming with amusement. âHorace is always in outer space somewhere!â
Horace looked up. The other birders were all looking at him, smiling. His face reddened. Willa shifted uneasily as Hacker went on.
âHorace is the wizard of our group, Willa. He has visions , you know!â
Willa froze for a moment before she realized he was joking.
âTheyâre not visions. The signs are there for anyone to see,â protested Horace.
âNot me, sport. Youâre the fortune teller. Iâm just a mere mortal.â Hacker guffawed his way back to his table.
You donât know how right you are , thought Willa. Horace looked totally bewildered. She leaned forward, lowering her voice.
âDonât listen to him, heâs just trying to be funny. But maybe you shouldnât talk about your augury with the gang here, all right?â
Horace looked her straight in the eye. âThings are out of joint, Willa. More and more signs. More and more birds. Evil forces.â He was so agitated his hands shook. âHave you seen anything suspicious? What are those dwarves up to?â
âNothing at all. Theyâre back at work, and everyoneâs friendly again. They donât mean any harm.â
âDonât be fooled by their innocent looks, Willa. Bad omens are everywhere, and someone is to blame. Dark matters ⦠necromancyâ¦.â He was adding to his drawing, scribbling madly.
âHorace, look. You need to relax. Sometimes a flock of birds is just a flock of birds.â
Horace looked up angrily. âIâm not crazy.â
âOf course not. I didnât say you were. You just have to be more careful. No talk about magicky stuff. Donât give Hacker any more material, okay?â
âAll right.â
Willa looked down and caught