Four out of fifteen. If they had brought in fifteen humans at random, they would have been lucky to find even one who had the talent to become a candy crafter. By comparison, a much greater percentage of fairies had the potential.
But the remaining eleven aren’t just numbers. They’re fairies who are here with us now, working, laughing, quarreling, and everything else.
Anne hung her head, and Keith and Kat fell silent.
This hurts.
It was so painful that Anne couldn’t stand it. It felt as though her lungs were stuffed full of lead. They were going to have to demand that eleven fairies give up their wings. Anne and the others would have to tell them to go back to the fairy market again, where they would be sold.
Anne clenched the fabric of her dress around her knees.
They had started this project knowing they were doing something extremely immoral, so it was foolish to cry about it now. If she was going to shed tears, she never should have taken the job. So she did her best to hold them back.
“We return tomorrow, right?”
Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence. Startled, Anne and the others turned to look.
Emere stood near the door to the workshop, her golden eyes fixed on them. Behind her was Allele, who wore a sullen expression, as well as Noah and the other fairies.
Emere approached Anne with a light, smooth gait, then set a small leather pouch down in front of her. It was the pouch containing her wing.
The three crafters looked up at Emere in shock, but she just smiled.
“My wing,” she said. “I’m giving it back. Tomorrow will be busy, and it will be bothersome to do it then. And I won’t know what to do if I get the urge to run away in the night.”
Shedding tears from his big purple eyes, Noah snuggled up close to Emere’s side.
“Emere, you’re going back? But you’re so nice. I really like you.”
When he said that, Emere smiled bitterly. “I couldn’t work the sugar as well as you, little one, but you keep at it.”
The other fairies walked past Emere and Noah, and one by one, they placed their wing pouches on the workbench where Anne and the others sat.
Two, three, four. The pouches containing their wings were placed in a line.
“Why…?” asked Anne.
The question just slipped out, and the final fairy to place his pouch atop the workbench answered it.
“Because we promised.”
Unable to endure the feelings welling up in her, Anne hung her head and bit her lip.
Because they promised? But oh, what a promise!
She had gratitude and encouragement to offer them. She had pledges for the distant future, and assurances about her and her colleagues’ determination to see those pledges through. There were so many things that she wanted to say to the fairies, but none of them would take shape into words.
“The four of us you chose will stay here and train to become silver sugar fairies,” said Allele. “We vow not to run away.”
Then someone else said cheerfully, “You’d better not run, Allele. We know you want to go look for that woman you’re in love with!”
“And I will. I’ll find her. But only after I’ve become a silver sugar fairy and gained my freedom.”
Anne heard Keith stand up.
“It’s not just the silver sugar fairies,” he said. “There are other jobs better suited to fairies. Someday, we may ask for your help with it. When the time comes, we might send for you again. I can’t guarantee it. But I hope it will happen.”
“Oh, really?” said Emere casually. “In that case, we’ll count on seeing you again.”
“Sorry, everyone,” Kat said, voice subdued.
Someone responded matter-of-factly, “We knew it was coming, so it’s all right.”
Unable to raise her head, Anne mumbled, “I’m sorry… Thank you… I’m sorry, so sorry…”
She didn’t know whose it was, but the chilly hand of a fairy lightly stroked her head. The coolness of their palm felt nice, and their touch was gentle.
Encouraged by the fairies’ responses, Anne finally raised her head.
“I’ll make you a promise, too,” she said to them, though she couldn’t see them through her tears. “I’ll ensure that everyone who stays here is recognized as a silver sugar fairy and as a candy crafter, and that they have an indisputable place in the world. We’ll think of some way to do it, and we’ll make it happen. We really will. I promise.”
The fairies nodded.
“Most of them will go back to the fairy market, huh?” Mithril Lid Pod mumbled as he looked up at the night sky, holding his knees.
Both Challe and Mithril had known that Anne and the others were choosing fairies that night. But neither of them nor Benjamin had thought they should participate. It was a job for the candy crafters.
The other fairies had also realized it was time for the humans to make their selection. When they’d seen Anne and the others go down to the workshop, every last one of them had streamed downstairs to eavesdrop.
Challe and Mithril had left the castle so as to not get in their way. Benjamin was already snoring away in bed, so they’d let him be.
They went out to the thicket of trees surrounding the castle, found a large one with a good shape, and climbed it. Challe took a seat with his back against the trunk and his legs stretching out toward the end of a branch. Mithril sat down beyond the tips of Challe’s boots, almost at the very end.
A slender moon hung in the sky. Despite how frail it looked, its light was sharp and beautiful. They could hear the shrill cries of insects coming from the forest underbrush.
“It is a brutal matter,” said Challe.
“But I guess it has to be done, huh?”
Mithril must have felt guilty; he would get to stay behind because he already had his freedom, while his fellow fairies would have to go back to the market. But that was also true for Challe.
“And I bet the ones who return will tell the next group of fairies about their resolve.”
Challe plucked a leaf off the tree and toyed with it, twirling it between his fingers.
He looked at Mithril from behind. In the darkness, Mithril’s wing looked transparent. It had very little luster, perhaps because Mithril was still thinking about the fate of their compatriots. Or maybe it was something else.
“Mithril Lid Pod, is there anything you’re hiding from us?”
Without turning his head, Mithril shrugged. “Not really.”
Challe was unhappy with this curt answer. If Mithril had been a loud, annoying nuisance, as he usually was, Challe could have grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threatened him, saying something like Quit hiding things and answer me!
But with Mithril sitting there quietly, his back turned, Challe couldn’t do a thing.