“Have you realized that you call my name a bit too much?” Croi asks her.

“Take the books,” the Hag says. Oh.

The books are heavy and very ornate. The first one is thick with gold-edged pages. The title of the volume is A Compendium of the Peoples and the Magicks of the Otherworld. The edges of the pages of the other book are black. The title of the book, written in gold on the equally black cover, is: The Talamh Crown.

The first book Croi can understand, but the second one? She looks at the book and then at the Hag with not a little confusion on her face. The Hag doesn’t say anything, so she puts the first book on the cushion and tries to open the second one. No matter how much she pulls, the cover doesn’t budge.

“Your book is broken,” she finally tells the Hag.

“As I have taught you before, the Otherworld is divided into four elemental kingdoms,” the Hag says, ignoring Croi’s words. “Talamh or Earth kingdom, Aer or Air kingdom, Uisce or Water kingdom, and Tine or Fire kingdom.”

“Why aren’t there queendoms? Are there only kings?” Croi asks.

“Regardless of the gender of the ruling monarch, the lands separated by the elemental magicks are known as kingdoms,” the Hag says patiently.

“There’s something very wrong with that,” Croi mutters.

“The book you are holding contains details about the monarchs of the Talamh kingdom. You will be able to read it soon.” The Hag gives Croi a look she can’t interpret.

“But I am a brownie. You said that only fae can be kings and queens, remember?” Croi reminds the Hag, just in case she has forgotten. “Why do I need to worry about the monarchs of elemental kingdoms?”

“Ask me no questions,” the Hag says, and this time Croi cannot hold back a rude snort.

“What kind of a teacher allows no questions? A bad one!” Croi crosses her arms.

“Sleep early. I will see you tomorrow morning. Don’t leave before you see me.” The Hag gives Croi another opaque look and leaves, melting into the forest as Croi watches from the door of the dwelling. Don’t leave? Where would she go? Unless the Hag doesn’t mind her going to the human city, but somehow Croi doubts that.

She squats down at the entrance and sighs deeply. The magick of the Otherworld… Would there be someone in the Otherworld who would help her save the stone maid? Will the stone maid be able to survive until Croi can find someone to help her? A flower sprite chitters at Croi loudly, and she jumps, startled. The cow bays, reminding her that she needs to milk it. Croi gets to her feet and busies herself with the business of living.

The sun is high in the sky when she finally sits down in front of the dwelling, among the flowers and the sprites that live in them. She shares a bottle of fruit juice she filched from the market along with some pastries the baker put out. Once full, she brings out the books the Hag gave her, and under the waning light of the day, opens the one that can be opened. The thick, creamy first page doesn’t have a single mark on it. The second page has the oddest table of contents she has ever seen, though admittedly she hasn’t seen many. The chapter titles and page numbers zoom around the page as if undecided where they will appear in the book. Croi clears her throat sternly and the writing calms down; the words and numbers slink back to their proper places.