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sprinkle of fairy dust and blew it from my palm, instantly finding the footprints I sought, but they went only a few yards before vanishing abruptly.
    I scanned the branches of the trees above me, scouring the darkness for my acrobatic foe, but whoever he was, he was gone now.
    I made one last search of the area, then summoned the king’s captain of the guard, a man whose severe countenance and muscular form made him an intimidating presence at the king’s estate.
    â€œWe’ve had a visitor,” I informed the burly fairy. “Place your men around the perimeter of the grounds to stand watch. No one comes in or leaves without my knowledge.”
    The captain gave me a curt nod. “It’ll be done, Gideon. Shall I wake His Majesty?”
    I shook my head. The intruder had meant no harm, that was for certain. If he had, he never could’ve crossed our barriers. Whatever had brought him here was not the desire to hurt anyone on the premises. So then why had he come? What was he after? “No, that will not be necessary. But send for me at once if you encounter anyone.”
    Knowing I could count on the guards to keep watch or risk my wrath, I headed back to my quarters, mulling over the events of the last few moments. I kept coming back to the same troubling observation.
    There was something familiar in the way the intruder had moved.
    A faint niggling of recognition tugged at my consciousness, but I shoved it away, unwilling to let my misplaced hopes make such a connection. Still, when I entered my home, I went straight to my study, bypassing the many thousands of volumes I’d read over the years to educate myself to a level worthy to represent my king whenever called upon.
    In Make Believe, reading was reserved only for those in the upper echelons of our society—the Lits and Fairytales mostly, and perhaps the few Rhymes who could sneak in education on the sly or who were fortunate enough to straddle the boundaries. Those like me who hailed from folklore were largely left to their own devices, schooling reserved only for the few recognized by the educated Ordinaries who lent them credence.
    But my king bucked against such restrictions, insisting that all in his household be able to read and write. One of the first duties he’d commanded of me was to learn to write my name. Then came reading and writing and taking command of the spoken word. I’d never imagined what comfort and pleasure such skills could bring, what pride I would take in obtaining them.
    And when we came to the Here and Now, those opportunities only increased, opening whole new worlds to me. My shelves contained books on every subject imaginable from history to science to literature to philosophy to warfare. For all the king’s faults—not the least of which was my forced servitude—I would be forever grateful to him for helping me see that I was a man of skill beyond what was found on the battlefield.
    But tonight there was only one book I needed.
    I pulled from the shelf a tome bound in soft leather, a treasure I’d secured in the Here and Now nearly one hundred years before. The comforting aroma of aged books wafted to me, bringing a faint smile to my lips as I thumbed through the fragile pages. My grin grew as I began to read the story of how Robin Hood had met Little John, how they’d fought with staves, and how Little John had bested the infamous thief, earning respect and a place as one of the Merry Men.
    It was a quaint tale, and at least partially true for once.
    I stretched out on the sofa in my study and placed the closed book on my chest, closing my eyes to better envision the scenes as they played out in my head....
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    â€œNo one crosses without paying a toll.”
    I peered from under the hood of my cloak at the slight figure before me. Dressed in too-large breeches and tunic, with a cowl shadowing a smooth face, the obstacle in my path was far from intimidating. “Out of