The fairies had simply hung the threads they’d spun from a plain wooden rod attached to the railing of the lesser hall on the second floor. The threads had been doubled back just before they brushed against the floor of the entryway and looped over the wooden rod again.
The slender threads overlapped layer over layer and flowed like water. They numbered in the thousands. And the fairies had spun those threads much faster than humans could ever hope to emulate.
Anne, Keith, and Kat had handled the colors. But kneading the silver sugar and spinning it had been the fairies’ jobs. And arranging the finished threads had also been the fairies’ doing. They had deftly handled the fragile silver sugar, which was so easy for humans to carelessly break, and hung it up.
The fairies didn’t yet have the skills to form the sugar into sculptures. However, this arrangement made the quality of their work plain to see.
The threads were all of an even thickness, and most importantly, they were thin. But they didn’t break, even when hung like this to sway. They were strong.
The fairies could make silver sugar threads of incredible quality. The work was beautiful even on its own.
This shows the fairies’ skill. It’s proof the world of sugar candy needs fairies.
The crafters were all looking up, staring at the array in blank amazement.
Someone took a few steps, moving the air and setting the display swaying and shimmering in the light. The rainbow curtain, which started undulating on its own with the slightest puff of air, was like a living creature, and it enchanted the eye with its elegant movements.
Anne looked up into the lesser hall and saw Challe leaning against the wall near the top of the stairs. He was staring at the waving silver sugar threads with a soft expression on his face.
Look, Challe. Amazing, isn’t it?
She asked the question in her mind, but he looked at her as if he had heard her say it out loud. When his eyes met Anne’s, he nodded gently, his expression satisfied.
“…So this is the skill of fairies…,” Marcus said, groaning.
His eyes still wide with surprise, Jonas stepped forward, gazed up at the threads, and said without thinking, “If they’ve got this much skill, I wonder how their sculptures will turn out.”
Marcus gave Jonas a startled look. But Jonas continued, mumbling ecstatically, “I want to see for myself.”
Marcus’s looked anguished. “Jonas,” he said sternly.
Hearing his name, Jonas finally seemed to realize that he was standing next to Marcus. He blinked a few times. “Y-yes, Uncle?” he asked.
“You want to see them, do you? The creations of the fairies?”
Jonas held his tongue for a moment, as if he was frightened by the blank expression on Marcus’s face, but he soon gathered his resolve and raised his eyes.
“I…do,” he replied. “As a candy crafter, it’s…well…it’s of interest to me. So I’d like to, yes.”
“I see; so it’s curiosity, then?” Marcus once again set his gaze on the curtain of threads. “It certainly does pique one’s interest.”
Anne felt like she could see something akin to resolution in Marcus’s unsparing eyes.
They had left the door between the workshop and the entry hall open, and Hugh was standing there. As he looked up at the swaying threads, he narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
Anne approached the Viscount. “Hugh,” she said, “this was the only thing we had to show them. The fairies couldn’t make sculptures.”
“This is plenty.” Hugh patted Anne on the head.
Marcus turned in Hugh’s direction. “Silver Sugar Viscount. When will the fairies here be available for deployment?” he asked.
“I think roughly around end of the Royal Candy Fair.”
“And can we choose which ones we’d like?”
“You cannot.”
A voice came from behind Marcus’s back. It was Kat. He was just descending the stairs and walked briskly over to them.
“The fairies here are undergoing training to become silver sugar fairies of their own free will,” Kat said. “If they don’t want to do something, then they don’t. Just like human apprentices. And also like human apprentices, they get to choose which workshop to train at. They have that right. But you can ask them to please come to the Radcliffe Workshop and offer them the best conditions you can.”
Kat smirked, and Marcus grimaced at his arrogant attitude.
“Hingley. As usual, the way you speak is utterly unacceptable,” he said.
“Right back atcha. So what’s gotten into you? Now you wanna hire fairies? When you made such a stink about it at the start?”
“I’m not happy about it now, either,” Marcus responded morosely. “But if we don’t hire them, and they end up in all the other workshops, our faction will continue to decline. We already lost last year’s Selection.”
“But it’s not enough just to hire the fairies,” Anne interjected. “Not if they don’t have the right motivation.”
Marcus gave her a sharp glare. “I’m not working as the maestro of a faction for nothing,” he said. “I know only too well that if an apprentice is poorly motivated, they won’t succeed.”
Apprentice.
Marcus had just called them apprentices. Not fairies, but apprentices. Even if he had said the word unintentionally, his unconscious mind had allowed the slip.
“You’re right. That was too forward of me,” Anne apologized with a smile. Marcus still looked suspicious.
That was when it happened.
From the direction of the workshop, they heard Noah laughing. He sounded as if he was so happy that he couldn’t contain it.
Following Noah’s lead, the rest of the fairies, spindles in hand, were all peeking out of the workshop, trying to get a look at what was going on. But when they made eye contact with Anne and Hugh, they got flustered and ran back to their posts.
Keith, who had remained in the workshop, scolded them. “You’re still on the clock!” But they could hear joy in his voice.
The fairies’ amused and delighted smiles stayed as they were. Continuing to turn his spindle, Noah laughed out loud again.
Allele, also continuing his work, nimbly nudged Noah in the back with the top of his shoulder. “They can all hear you.”
“But everyone is so amazed. I’m happy. And even the spindles sound like they’re laughing. The way they whiz around, it’s like they’re giggling.”
As they continued twirling their spindles, the fairies shut their mouths and inclined their ears to listen to the sounds the tools were making.
“It’s like whistling,” someone said with a laugh.
“No, it’s more of a whoosh-whoosh-whoo, whoosh-whoosh-whoo, don’t you think?” someone else answered.
With a smile, Noah shook his head. “Uh-uh. It’s kind of a who-loo-loo-loo-loo. I can hear the loo-loo-loo sound.”
As he said that, Noah turned his spindle and beat out a basic rhythm on his knee.
“Who-loo-loo-loo, loo-loo-loo. Who-loo-loo-loo, loo-loo-loo.”
Singing in time with the spindle just like a little child might, he continued:
“Loo-loo-loo, loo-loo. Loo-loo-loo-loo, loo-loo.”
His tune was an exact match for the movements of the spindle. It was a joyful sound.
“Keep it going!”
Noah was singing to the rhythm, and Allele started whooping and hollering playfully along with him.
Caught up in the moment, Noah spun his spindle with a big smile on his face as he sang, “Loo-loo-loo, loo-loo. Loo-loo-loo-loo, loo-loo.”
Following Noah, the other fairies also started to hum along. They were enjoying themselves, keeping time with the movements of spinning thread.
The fairies were all softly, wordlessly singing la-la-la or loo-loo-loo.
Though they were looking around at one another and trying to hold in their laughter, their hands moved smoothly and quickly, pulling threads of silver sugar.
“Don’t let up!” Someone else cheered them on.
The beginning of a tune was being spun like a long breath from the fairies’ mouths. The workshop rang with the chorus of their voices.
Like ripples on water, the simple tune reached Anne’s ears as waves of the fairies’ joy quietly broke at her feet.
“Imagine humming a song while doing such difficult work,” Hugh murmured. “The fairies really are incredible.”
Anne suddenly gasped.
A song? That’s a song.
It was simple, just a melody and a beat, but this was a song.
Allele. Hasn’t he noticed?
Allele was happily humming the simple tune as he spun his spindle. For the moment, he didn’t seem to have realized that the very tune he was humming was the thing he had been wishing for. He was enjoying it, delighting in it, without noticing.
If someone changed the melody just a little and added words, the tune the fairies hummed as they worked would become a whole new song.
A fairy song.
The fairies hadn’t caught on yet. They were just happily turning their spindles.
Challe!
Anne looked up at Challe in the lesser hall.
It’s a song, Challe.
The rippling waves of the song must have reached Challe’s ears as well. His eyes closed, and he was still, as if listening attentively to the faint tune.
A song.
Challe closed his eyes and listened carefully to the simple, cheerful song.
The fairies had lost everything. But it was possible to get it back again. In time, the fairies would surely create the songs they were meant to sing.