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>Ever think you might owe Zandar an apology?

For what??? For giving her chance after chance, and treating her infintely better than she deserves? I don't regret any of that. Perhaps I should, but it simply takes too much effort to harbor malice toward her.

>You still haven't explained about the baby stew.

I'm getting to that! Fuma's sakes, you lowfolk are impatient! A good story, like a good stew, cannot be rushed. It must be slowly simmered, and then savored when it's cooked to perfection.

>Are you still rich & single? Any allergies or weaknesses to poison?

All right. Question time is over. Let's get back to the story.

I believe I left off just before our daughter was born. It went smoothly as far as I could tell, but Zandar was exhausted from her travail, and fell asleep. As I sat there thinking, I came to the conclusions I mentioned earlier, namely that neither of us were fit parents for a little elflet (Zandar least of all!) so I picked up the child and used a bit of Gramarye to make sure Zandar would stay asleep until I returned.

I would have to hide the Princess someplace where Zandar would never find her, and I had an excellent idea where that would be. They were even expecting a baby right around this time! It would be perfect! I set out toward the O'Dor residence on a Top Secret mission, accompanied by only one Ixie.

"Continuing the old Changeling tradition then, sir?" she asked me.

"You know about that?"

"It's in the stories," she replied. "I wonder though, when they come of age, how do they know they're elves? Is it some sort of instinct?"

"No," I explained. "Someone is supposed to come and fetch them ... or at the very least, tell them where they need to go. I'll be watching over my daughter from the shadows, to make sure she grows up safe and doesn't fall in with a bad crowd. It won't do to have the Princess of Faerie associating with riff-raff, writers, artists, musicians, and other worthless idlers."

"It will require constant vigilance," the Ixie observed.

As I approached the O'dor household in the middle of the night, I couldn't help but sigh as I thought of Vernier. "She ended up marrying another lowfolk," I muttered bitterly. "Even though she confessed that she had feelings for me."

"You mean old Mama Vernier?" the Ixie surmised. "Angela Weakflit told us that sad tale. The reason Vernier never yielded to your desire is because she knew about the curse that befalls all elves who fall in love with lowfolk."

"She did?" I demanded. "How did she find out? Why didn't she ever say anything?"

"It's in the old ballads," the Ixie shrugged. "She probably never said because she wanted to save your feelings, or maybe she knew you'd try to talk her out of it."

That seemed like Vernier. I mulled this over in silence as we walked toward the O'Dor residence. When we finally arrived, I was surprised to see the place still lit up despite the late hour. I could hear a man talking and a femme in obvious distress. I crept into the bushes beneath the window to listen to their conversation.

"Again, Seamus?" Mrs. O'Dor sobbed. "How could it happen again? I was careful! I took no liquor, ate plenty o' potatoes, an' did no heavy liftin' but she came early anyway."

"Tis not your fault, Mary," Seamus O'Dor answered, clearly struggling to seem calm. "Sure an' ye did everything roight."

"Then why?" Mary wailed.

"Fuma's ways are mysterious," Seamus sighed. I was pleased to note that Mephitism had gained a strong foothold in this district, as opposed to the nonsensical cult that the rabbits of Bunkirk followed. "Mayhap it's the Lady's will that we not have children."

Ridiculous! I frowned. Childlessness was never Fuma's will! These lowfolk may have been nominally Mephitist but they obviously still had a lot to learn.

"Twice is enough, macushla," Seamus murmured soothingly over Mary's muffled sobbing. "We daren't try again. Doctor says it'll imperil your health, bedad."

At that moment I made a decision. These were the descendants of one of the only people who was ever genuinely kind to me, and I had the power to mitigate their misfortune. I magicked up a basket and put my precious daughter in it, and I wrote a note:

"I once knew a very kind but unlucky femme named Vernier. She did me a great service once and helped me when I had given up hope. I owe her a wish which she never claimed. Since Vernier now rests in her grave, the wish goes to her descendant. Tonight the debt is finally paid. I shall take away the burden of your sorrow, and leave my own precious daughter in exchange for the child you have lost. Treat her with love and kindness, as if she were your own, just like Vernier would have done. Signed, the King of the Elves."

 With a mix of emotions, I placed the basket on the doorstep. I knocked on the door and quickly pooked away into the darkness. I lingered long enough to observe that the note was read and the basket was taken into the house. Then I turned, and my Ixie and I headed for home.

Dropping off Changelings was strenuous work! I decided that when I returned to the palace, I would greet Zandar as she awoke with a fresh pot of delicious stew. That would surely soften the blow of informing her that I had traded our child for one that was already dead, essentially getting nothing at all out of the deal ... but it had been the right thing to do!

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