Prologue

©2009 A. Jane

“What do you mean I have jury duty?!” Neak waved around the summons, her arms a blur of wild movements. Her usually melodic voice was raised to a harridan shriek and her silver eyes were lit with outrage. “I’m a Tree Nymph! Tree. Nymph.”

Tugging on a large, pointy ear, the poor mail carrying Elf wasn’t sure why the Nymph was yelling at him. He just delivered the mail. As a Civil Servant Elf, this was the life, being out of doors, talking with folks, instead of manning the phone in some Divinity’s Office. Usually Neak was most hospitable when he came with her mail, offering him a glass of sweet tea and sometimes biscuits too. He didn’t think he would be getting either today.

“Now, Miss Neak…”

“Tree Nymph!” In all her green glory, Neak spun around and strode back into her Tree House, the door slamming behind her.

She stared down at the summons, the paper held taut in her hands, and swore at the Goddess of Justice. This was the fourth notice to appear in the last two months even though she had already sent in the first three with all the proper documentation as to why she was unable to serve. Except now, according to the large red letters splashed across the front of the summons, she was being threatened with contempt of court if she didn’t appear by the beginning of next week.

She was exempt from this sort of thing since Tree Nymphs were in charge of the care and protection of the Divinities’ Sacred Groves—jury duty could last years and that was before a body was placed on a jury. Which meant, not only did she tend the trees, she kept the damn WairFolk from pissing on the trees, from leaving steaming piles—especially the damn Canines—during the New Moon Frenzy; it wouldn’t do to have the Divinities accidentally step in a said pile when they went out for their stroll the following morning.

The Divinities were real shits about such things, and the tantrums they threw because they stepped in a pile of dung could rival that of any two year old denied a new toy.

With a final shriek, she stomped down the hall to her office, grabbed the phone and called the number on the summons to complain.

Except she was put on hold.

Neak tapped her foot, as horrible elevator music played in the background. She started pacing her office, going as far as the cord would allow her in each direction. That was one more thing to swear about. Getting the Divinities to upgrade equipment was like pulling a Brownie away from the internet; the Fairy porn was more alluring to the little guys than whatever it was Brownies were supposed to do. She had thoughts of ordering one of those new digital cell phones on her own dime, one with a camera, and bill the Divinities for it, or better yet write it off as a business expense. Screw the FRS bastards.

Government Fairies were notorious pinchpenny bean counters, especially the Bureaucratic Fairies with their sparkly red tape. And the Fairy Revenue Service was one of the worst.

Tired of pacing, Neak started sorting through the papers strewn about her desk. She tossed aside bills, filtered through receipts, wishing she had a computer to deal with this crap. One more thing the Divinities in charge of her Grove had promised her.

Last year.

She flipped through the rest of the mail, having ignored it after seeing the summons notice—bills, more bills, an advertisement for the latest tree treat, but no paycheck. She sighed and wondered when was the last time she went on vacation. A vacation would be nice, that is if she would get paid. Actually, she would need a raise first.

When was the last time she got a raise? She recalled being promised one last year along with the computer, and like the computer, it had yet to manifest.

Upkeep of Sacred Groves wasn’t cheap and getting the Divinities to pay anything on time for said upkeep was a hassle, which made caring for the Groves that much more stressful. She already had to deal with the attitude of the trees—this one wanting more water, that one wanting more sun, the other’s roots were touching its neighbors, and another still bitching about the chill in the air—dealing with the spoiled upper echelon of Evermagick was going to turn her hair silver.

A bright cheery voice of a Secretarial Pixie answered, “Office of Justice, this is Ciela Brightthorn, how may I help you?”

“Finally! This is Neak Silverplum, I want to know why I’m being called for jury duty? I’ve already explained three times…”

“All citizens of Evermagick must report for jury duty, Miss Sliverplume.”

“Silverplum. I’m a Tree Nymph. I’m exempt.”

“All citizens must report for jury duty, it’s the law.”

“But I’m a Tree Nymph. I guard The Sacred Grove at…”

“All citizens must report for jury duty.”

Neak felt the need to screech again. The officious little Pixie… If she ever wandered into her Grove, she would make certain the Great Oak ate her. With his slow digestion, it would take a painful eternity. “But Tree Nymphs are exempt. Lady Arbor, the Tree Goddess, proclaimed…”

“Miss Sliverplume,” the Pixie’s voice was no longer cheery, “the Office of Justice doesn’t make mistakes. Our files indicate that you are only a Flower Fairy and so not exempt.”

“Silverplum, dammit, and I am no Fairy! I am a Tree Nymph as was my mother as was her mother. The Silverplums have always been Tree Nymphs. And Tree Nymphs are exempt.”

“If you believe the Office of Justice has indeed made a mistake, you must bring it up with the Office of Jury Selection when you report in. Have a nice day!”

Neak stared at the phone unable to believe the Pixie hung up on her. She did scream then and threw the phone for good measure.

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