“We could drive them away ourselves,” the dryad said.
“That would be perfectly all right with me,” Owen said with a crooked smile. “Be my guest. But this is a trained wizard. I know him, and I can make plans against him to direct our fight so that we use no more power than necessary and bring harm to no one.”
“And it’s you alone, facing all those naughty power wasters?” the water creature burbled.
“I have allies. Merlin is here with me—Myrddin Emrys.” I hoped he wasn’t assuming too much.
Sure, Merlin would be on our side against the bad guys, but would he go along with Owen’s plan?
But dropping that name got their attention. They all perked up, and the little perpetual motion machines slowed down long enough for me to see they looked like wild miniature elves. I decided they must be pixies. “He has returned?” the dryad asked.
“He has,” Owen confirmed. “He has work to do and is needed in this time.” His voice had been soft and conversational, but when he spoke next, it was firm, with a trace of iron in it that reminded me of Merlin himself. “Now, will you help me?”
“What have you to offer us as a gift?” the naiad asked. I didn’t like the way she looked at Owen. It made me wonder what offering she had in mind. After all, it had been our passion that drew her to us.
“We have music,” Owen said.
There was a murmur among the gathered creatures, and then the dryad said, “That is acceptable. We will listen.”
Owen nodded to me, and I picked up the flute. I was fairly sure I could still play “The Star Spangled Banner” from memory, but the flute part to that was mostly high trills, so on its own it wouldn’t be very effective. Teddy had made me learn to play “Princess Leia’s Theme” from Star Wars, but that seemed wrong to me, somehow. As I’d told Owen, about the only thing I was sure I could still play was the school fight song. After four years of playing it for every pep rally, at the start of every half of every football game, after every score, at the end of the game, and at random times when the team needed a boost, it was forever drilled into my psyche.
I took a deep breath and played a test note to make sure I could still play at all, then adjusted the alignment of the instrument. I made the mistake of looking out at my audience before I started playing, and it made me even more nervous than chair tests had back when I was in school. As scary as my band director had been, he was nothing like hundreds of magical creatures, and the outcome hadn’t been nearly as important as the fate of this corner of the magical world.
The sound wasn’t as bad as I’d feared once I started playing. Because “The Washington and Lee Swing” wasn’t the sort of thing you’d think of for placating magical creatures, I slowed it down to give it a haunting, plaintive sound. That was also the only way I kept my fingers from getting tangled as they remembered nearly forgotten fingerings.
When the last note had died away, there was silence, except for the sound of running water. I had to resist the instinct to shout “C! H! S!” at the end of the song, as we had always done at football games.
Then a series of clicks and whistles rang out. “Very nice,” the naiad said. “We accept your offering.
How may we help you?”
“I need you to be ready to come into the town when I summon you,” Owen said. “I will bring our enemies to you. I don’t want them killed or seriously hurt. I just want the apprentice wizards to be taken out of the equation so I can deal with their master without their interference.”
“We will protect you and your lady,” she said with a bow. With a sidelong glance at me, she added,
“Though your lady needs no protection from magic. And when we have done as you asked, we would like more music, unless you have another gift for us.” She batted her eyelashes meaningfully at Owen.
“Yes, of course,” I hurried to respond. I could even practice something, now that I knew I needed to.
“Then we have an agreement. You may leave now, and we give you safe passage.”
Owen broke the circle with his foot as I put my flute away. I would have preferred that he wait until we were ready to go, but it appeared to be a show of trust. I felt as though tiny hands were touching my hair and clothes while I waited for him to gather his things, but when he took me by the hand to lead me away from there, all the pinpricks of light parted, leaving us a clear path. The pixies followed us all the way to the car, keeping a respectful distance, which generally meant running in circles around us as we walked.