"If I need my b.u.t.t kissed, I"ll ask for it," Bertie said.
"What do you want kissed instead?" he asked.
"Shut up."
He obliged.
"I don"t like this any more than you do, all right?" Bertie said.
He nodded and pressed his lips together in an exaggerated silence that thoroughly irritated her, but everything irritated her right now. Bertie shoved the now-empty cup at him and stomped off.
"What are you looking at?" she snarled at a member of the Ladies" Chorus who was sorting out t.i.tus Andronicus.
"Nothing!" Three pages fluttered to the ground, and the girl rushed to pick them up.
Peaseblossom returned before Bertie could yell and kick things. "Hey, boss lady!"
"How are we progressing?" Bertie demanded.
"We can"t find any more Hamlet pages, but I"m pretty sure we read in all the entrance lines." Peaseblossom pointed at the stage. "All the Players from that show are present and accounted for, at any rate. I checked them off against the cast list twice."
Bertie opened The Book. Counting under her breath and then checking again just to be sure, she whispered to Peaseblossom, "All pages from Hamlet are back in. I guess it just takes the entrance lines."
"That"s good," Peaseblossom said, "because there"s something else you need to know."
Bertie sighed. "More bad news?"
"No, no. Not really bad . . ." Peaseblossom"s voice trailed off.
"Just tell me what it is."
"We"re sorting more pages than just Shakespeare."
"What?!"
"It"s The Complete Works of the Stage, not The Complete Works of the Bard. So it"s not just the Shakespearean plays, it"s-"
"All the plays ever written." Bertie"s legs wobbled, or it might have been structural damage to the building that made the floor tremble.
"Breathe!" Peaseblossom advised. "It will be all right. Really it will. Why don"t we just leave it at Hamlet? Why does it have to be all of them?"
There was a shudder overhead, another shower of plaster, paint, and frescoed ceiling.
"That"s why, Pease," Bertie said, shaking the dust out of her hair. "Besides which, even if the Theatre weren"t falling apart, what would you propose we do with the pages in the meantime? File them? Cart them off in boxes? Even Mr. Hastings couldn"t handle this mess."
"Then the plan is still the same," the fairy said. "It"s just going to take longer to get it done, is all."
"We have to finish before Friday night." Bertie forced herself to sound calm and firm.
"That gives us the rest of today, tomorrow, and most of Friday," Peaseblossom said, trying to sound upbeat. "We need to maximize efficiency, so let"s run multiple plays at the same time."
Bertie looked at seat after seat filled with the various scripts. "Finish sorting the pages off the stage, and then have two platforms lowered in, three if we can fit them. I want every available Player acting around the clock until further notice. Is someone still saying Nate"s line?"
"One of the minor Players," the fairy said. "It just needs time to work."
But Bertie felt the hope, round and gold, slipping away from her like a coin thrown into a wishing fountain. She clung to it with determination.
"I know you don"t want to consider it," Peaseblossom said, her voice soft, "but Sedna"s magic may be stronger than the Theatre"s. She is a G.o.ddess, after all."
"I don"t care. Keep trying."
"Will do!" Peaseblossom said before she darted back toward the stage.
"Bertie!"
"What now?" Bertie glowered at the new arrival. "Mustardseed, if you tell me one more thing has gone wrong, I will hurl myself off the second balcony."
"Okay," he said. "Nothing else has gone wrong."
She debated leaving it at that, then yielded. "Are you lying?"
He squirmed a bit and pulled his vest over his face. The next words were m.u.f.fled by quilting and embroidery. "Depends on how you define the word "wrong." "
"What is it?"
He peeked at her with an eye as bright as the black b.u.t.ton next to it. "Nothing. I mean, I just noticed that Ariel"s . . . er . . . gone."
Bertie looked around; sure enough, Ariel was nowhere to be seen in the flurry of activity. "I didn"t actually forbid him to leave the immediate vicinity. I should have, but I didn"t."
"Do you want me to look for him?" Mustardseed asked.
"It would be a good idea to find him before he does something stupid, yes," said Bertie. "Tell him I said to get back in here and that"s an order."
"Got it!"
Bertie sat down on the floor and closed her eyes. For the moment, no one was looking her direction, pulling on her sleeve, or calling her name- "Bertie?"
So much for that.
"Yes?" She cracked one eye open.
"You look tired," Ophelia said.
"I am tired," said Bertie. "And there"s really no end in sight, is there?"
The water-maiden"s smile was rueful. "I did try to warn you. About The Book, that is."
"Yes, you did." Bertie motioned to the place next to her. "You can join me, if you don"t mind sitting on the ground."
Ophelia settled herself with a graceful folding of limbs and arrangement of skirts. "I wanted to apologize."
"For what?"
"For all this. I might have done better, explaining the dangers, but clarity sometimes eludes me. It"s like a silver fish swimming through the water." She caught hold of Bertie"s hand, quicker than any of the asps could have struck. "Sometimes I catch it! And sometimes it slips out of reach."
Bertie frowned. "It"s all right. You did your best for-"
"A crazy girl?" Ophelia suggested, letting go of Bertie"s hand.
"You"re not crazy."
"No," Ophelia agreed. "Not today. Today, I have the fish firmly in hand."
Good grief. Bertie would have made her excuses and ducked off to supervise the bedlam, but curiosity p.r.i.c.ked at her. "When you tore your page out, where did you go?"
Ophelia looked at the wall opposite, but seemed to see something much farther away than the water-stained velvet wallpaper and sagging moldings. "On a vacation by the seaside. When all this is done, you should do the same."
"If I go on vacation, it won"t be to the seaside," Bertie said.
"Oh, but it was lovely." Ophelia took an ivory comb out of her pocket and began to plait her hair, weaving in flowers and sh.e.l.ls with thoughtless dexterity. "What I remember of it, that is."
Feeling suddenly unkempt, Bertie attempted to tidy her wayward blue snarls with her fingers. "What do you remember?"
Ophelia finished the braid with a loop of gilt ribbon and a tidy knot instead of the fussy bow Bertie had expected. "The calls of the seagulls. Endless blue water."
"Don"t you get enough of the water here?"
Ophelia held up her comb. "May I?" When Bertie nodded, the other girl teased through the mess with ivory tines, untangling the knots and twisting curls about her fingers.
Bertie closed her eyes. Mrs. Edith often combed her hair, an efficient pa.s.s with a brush accompanied by a good-natured smack on the head when Bertie didn"t hold still enough for her taste. But this was soothing. Hypnotic.
Another ten strokes and I"d bark like a dog if she asked me to.
Ophelia broke the spell by repositioning the b.u.t.terfly barrettes and patting Bertie on the shoulder. "There you are. I see Ariel headed this way, so if you"ll excuse me?"
"Of course."
Ophelia"s skirts fluttered as she walked down the aisle, and flower petals drifted in her wake to mingle with the pages.
"She"s a thing of loveliness." Ariel lowered himself to the floor.
"I didn"t give you permission to leave," Bertie said.
"Ah! But you didn"t tell me that I couldn"t."
"Enough with your double negatives, miscreant. Where did you go?"
"To refill this, O tyrannical one." He handed her another paper coffee cup. "I figured I might earn my way back into your good graces by keeping you in quad-shot cappuccinos until you are awash in caffeine."
"Ah. Good." Bertie nodded, feeling stupid. "Thanks."
"Where did you think I went? Gallivanting, perhaps? Persuading an unsuspecting damsel to remove my shackles?"
"I didn"t have much time to think about it, to be quite honest." Bertie sipped the foam off the top of the coffee. "But it made me nervous all the same."
"Would you like me to stay in your line of sight at all times?" His dark eyes regarded her. "Ask and ye shall receive, Milady."
"No, I think I"ll just have Mustardseed shadow you," Bertie said.
"Have you so little faith in your word-spell?"
"It"s the first time I"ve condemned someone to eternal servitude," Bertie snapped. "Stop questioning me."
"Questioning you? I wouldn"t dream of it." Ariel made a great show of squirming around to get comfortable. "So what did Ophelia want?"
"What"s it to you?"
"I harbor certain concerns about her, the least of which is that she"s a few bricks short of a cartload."
"That"s singularly unkind," Bertie said. "And you"re hardly the person I would ask to judge rational behavior."
"All that imagery with the flowers is unnerving," he said. "White carnations symbolize innocence, faithfulness. And pure love. Ardent love. You"ve seen how she feels about Hamlet."
"It"s less than ardent," Bertie admitted. "But her flower obsession isn"t a reason to cart her off to the loony bin."
"There you are!" Mustardseed careened overhead and landed with a splash in the middle of Bertie"s coffee.
With an exclamation of annoyance, she fished him out before he could drown. "Watch where you land, please. I was drinking that!"
Mustardseed sputtered foamed milk and pointed an accusing finger at Ariel. "I searched everywhere for you!"
"I"m always in the last place you look," Ariel said.
"Don"t change the subject." Mustardseed shook like a tiny dog, throwing droplets of cappuccino all over Bertie"s jeans.
"I wasn"t attempting to change the subject, but if it makes you feel better, I"ll shut up," Ariel offered. "I"ve had a lot of practice at it today."
Mustardseed, who"d no doubt been working up to a good "shut up," wrung out his shirt and stomped off to join Cobweb.
"Explain something to me?" Ariel said, his voice low.
Bertie picked up her coffee cup, considered the questionable content of the now-murky depths, and put it back down. "What?"
"Your admirer. The daring swashbuckler." Ariel slanted a look at her. "You said he was stolen away. How did that come to pa.s.s?"
"I am not having this conversation with you." Bertie scrambled to her feet and fled, but Ariel kept pace with her.
"Indulge my idle curiosity," he coaxed.