The Mystery of the Disappearing Grapes

Some years after the founding of the city of Altador—long, long before the Darkest Faerie’s great betrayal

“It’s strange,” said King Altador, studying the contents of the fruit bowl. “For the last couple of days, all the purple grapes seem to be disappearing almost as soon as they’re set out.”

It was the harvest season, and the Hall of Heroes was fully stocked with produce. It had become customary to have several fruit bowls out, kept topped up with fresh Altadorian produce, to let everyone working in the Hall—Founders included, of course—grab a quick snack as they went about their business.

And one of said fruits was, of course, the city-state’s signature Altadorian Grapes, bunches of which were naturally tri-color when ripe—dark purple grapes on top, purple-red grapes in the middle, and green at the bottom.

King Altador always liked to have them out, especially when there might be visitors from other lands, as a shining example of Altadorian agriculture.

But for last three days, all but the green grapes seemed to have almost-immediately vanished from the bowls.

“Well, don’t look at me,” said the Sleeper, plucking one of the remaining grapes. “You know I prefer the green ones.”

Two days earlier

“Look,” said Altador. “I’m really sorry about this, but you’re the only person who can look after Florin’s nephew right now.”

Said nephew—a tiny blue Kacheek whose name the Sleeper couldn’t recall just now, who Florin had brought back from his home village a few days ago for a visit, and who the Sleeper had mostly been able to avoid up until now—clung to Altador’s tunic with one tiny hand and looked up at the Sleeper with wide, innocent eyes.

The Sleeper looked up from the table she was working at—piled with scrolls and research notes for a spell she and Jerdana were jointly designing—and frowned. “That can’t possibly be right. We have staff—”

“All of whom are incredibly busy with preparations for the banquet tomorrow,” said Altador, looking genuinely apologetic. “Fauna meant to watch him, but one of the Alabrisses’ foals is coming early so she’s at the stables dealing with that, and everyone else on the Council is fully booked for the next hour except for you. I have a meeting to be at in five minutes—believe me, I wouldn’t ask if there were any other option. Just… keep an eye on him? Florin will be back at the Hall in an hour, and he’ll be able to take him off your hands then.”

The Sleeper looked back at the child. She wasn’t exactly an expert on Neopet child development, but if there was any way to get out of this... “Is he not old enough to look after himself?” she asked.

“He’s five years old,” said Altador.

“Five and a quarter,” the child corrected.

“Yes, of course,” said Altador. “Look, he’ll be easy to look after—just find him something to do and keep watch in case he needs any help. And now I really have to run.” Altador looked down at the child. “Paolo, be good, all right? I’ll see you later.”

And with that, Altador dashed off, leaving the Sleeper with an unwanted childcare assignment.

She would have to find some way to get back at Altador for this. But that would have to come later. For now…

The Sleeper looked at Paolo.

Paolo stared back at her in complete silence.

The Sleeper continued to look at Paolo.

Paolo continued to look back at her.

The Sleeper was absolutely not going to lose an impromptu staring competition to a five-(and a quarter)-year old child, so she kept looking at him.

“Why are you a dark faerie?” asked Paolo.

The Sleeper, taken off-guard, blinked.

“Why am I… a dark faerie,” the Sleeper echoed.

“Yeah,” said the child, as if this were a completely normal thing to ask.

“Well,” the Sleeper replied after a moment’s thought, “I wasn’t hugged enough as a child, so my heart became full of darkness.”

“Oh,” said Paolo. “I’m sorry. Do you want a hug now?”

“No,” said the Sleeper, quickly. “It’s far too late for that.” Just to be safe, as the child’s hands looked a little sticky and she wanted them nowhere near her, she added “Also, I’m poisonous, so I can’t be touched.”

“Oh,” said Paolo, taking a step back. “Are… are all dark faeries poisonous?”

“No,” said the Sleeper. “Just me.”

“Oh, okay,” said Paolo. After a moment, he added “What happens if someone touches you?”

“They turn purple,” said the Sleeper.

“I like purple!” said Paolo, perking up. “It’s my favorite color.”

“...and then they die,” the Sleeper added.

The child’s eyes widened, and he took another step back.

“Um,” he said. “Shouldn’t you wear gloves?”

“Why?” asked the Sleeper.

“My daddy wears gloves when he pulls weeds, because if he doesn’t some of the weeds give him a bad rash,” said Paolo. “So if you wear gloves, maybe you can touch people without making them turn purple and die.”

“Unfortunately, gloves don’t work,” said the Sleeper, who was, surprisingly, starting to enjoy herself. “The poison gets right through them. I’m extra poisonous, you see.”

“Has anyone ever touched you and died?” Paolo asked, looking worried.

“Only once,” said the Sleeper. “You see, there was this child who asked so many questions and got me so distracted I forgot I was poisonous, which meant I forgot to warn him not to touch me. And then he touched me, turned purple, and died.”

Paolo took another step back and fell blissfully silent for a little while, proving that telling blatant straight-faced lies was an excellent childcare tactic.

The Sleeper went back to her research, pausing to scribble notes every so often. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the child wandering over to the window, looking out for a little while, then wandering back—though still not getting too close.

“I wanna turn purple,” the child piped up after a few minutes. “But I don’t want to die. Can you do that?”

The Sleeper looked up. “No,” she said.

One day earlier

The Sleeper, in need of a mid-morning snack, used a quick pulse of magic to detach the lower thirds of two bunches of Altadorian Grapes from a fruit bowl.
Altador, passing by, chuckled. “Really? You’re just going to take all the green ones?”

“The green ones are the best,” said the Sleeper.

“Still, don’t you think it looks a little odd to have a couple bunches of tri-color grapes sitting in the fruit bowl with the ends removed?” said Altador. “Maybe you could save some green ones for the rest of us.”

The Sleeper glanced at him, plucked a green grape from the ones she’d taken, then tossed it at him, aiming for a spot just beside his head.

Altador—seemingly out of more instinct than volition—whipped his muzzle around to snap the grape out of the air. He seemed almost surprised as his teeth closed around the fruit, and he looked reproachfully back at the Sleeper.

“There you go,” said the Sleeper, beaming, before walking off with her small pile of green grapes.

One day later

The Sleeper looked at the fruit bowl sitting at the table and the two-thirds of the grapes that remained.

Then she turned back to Paolo.

“However,” she said, “I might know of a way for you to fulfill your purplest dreams…”

A little more than two days later

The Sleeper was at a secluded table in the Archives, surrounded by piles of scrolls and sketch-covered papers, working out the arcane structure of the spell she’d been working on, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Immediately thereafter, she heard a horrified gasp.

Drat, she thought.

She turned around to find herself confronted by a stern-looking King Altador, an amused-looking Florin, and a positively petrified Paolo.

“Is… is he gonna die?” asked Paolo, plaintively.

“No,” said Florin. “He’ll be just fine, I promise. Now, why don’t you tell us again what she told you a few days ago.”

Drat! thought the Sleeper. (Or perhaps she thought something a little stronger than that.)

“Um,” said Paolo. “Well, she said she was poisonous, and if you touch her you’ll turn purple and die, but if you eat lots and lots and lots of purple grapes, you’ll turn purple, but won’t die. But you can’t tell anyone you’re trying to turn purple, or it won’t work.” After a moment, he added, “But I ate lots of purple grapes and didn’t turn purple. I just got a tummyache.”

“Yes,” said Altador, looking directly at the Sleeper. “You won’t turn purple from eating purple grapes. But you will get a tummyache if you eat too many, just like with any other food. What she told you wasn’t true, was it.”

Seeing no other option, the Sleeper agreed, “No, it wasn’t true.”

Then, because she knew Altador was an absolute sucker for a good moral lesson, she put on her most serious expression, leaned in, looked little Paolo right in the eyes, and said “Sometimes, people will lie to you. Maybe they’ll lie because they want something from you and they think a lie is a good way to get it. Maybe they’ll lie because they think telling you a lie will make you like them better than if they told you the truth. Or maybe they’ll lie just because they want to. So it’s important not to believe everything people tell you.”

“That’s right,” said Florin, patting Paolo on the shoulder. “If anyone—even a grown-up—says something to you that sounds like it might not be true, you can always talk to me or your parents about it, and we’ll help you figure things out.”

“Okay,” said Paolo, seeming a bit subdued.

“Now,” said Altador, still looking at the Sleeper, “do you have anything else to say to Paolo?”

“Yes,” said the Sleeper. She leaned in a little more, and said, sagely, “Be less gullible.”

“What’s gullible?” Paolo asked.

Before the Sleeper could tell him that the definition was written up on the ceiling, Altador interjected with “It means ‘easy to fool.’ Now, is there anything other than that you’d like to add? Perhaps an apology?”

“Ah,” said the Sleeper. “Of course. I’m... sorry I lied to you, Paolo. That, uh... wasn’t... very nice of me, I suppose.”

“I forgive you,” said Paolo, earnestly.

“Wonderful. That’s all settled then,” said the Sleeper.

“Come on, Paolo,” said Florin, who seemed to be finding far more humor in the whole thing than Altador did (the Lupe could be such a stick-in-the-mud sometimes). “Let’s go to the stables and visit the new Alabriss foal. We can stop by the kitchen on the way for some apple slices to feed the other Alabrisses…”

As Florin led the child away, Altador continued to stand there in silence, his arms crossed.

After waiting a few moments to see if Altador would say anything, or perhaps just sigh deeply and walk away so the Sleeper could return to her project, the Sleeper asked “What?”

“Why would you lie to a child like that?” Altador asked.

Because it was funny and you deserved it for fussing about the green grapes probably wouldn’t go over well, so the Sleeper replied “Knowing that people—including people with authority—sometimes lie is a lesson everyone has to learn at some point. Better to learn it now, with something relatively harmless, than to find out later in life with a more serious lie.”

Altador sighed, covering his eyes with one hand. “Look… if you’re ever planning to teach that sort of lesson again, can you at least ask first? Or tell someone afterwards so we know what’s going on?”

“Oh, of course,” said the Sleeper. “I’d be happy to give you a little more warning next time. In fact, how about this: I’ll give you exactly as much warning as you give me before handing me a child to look after.”

“...Okay, I can see why you’d be annoyed,” said Altador. “It wasn’t really polite of me to just drop Paolo on you like that, even if I didn’t have many other options.”

“It certainly wasn’t,” said the Sleeper.

“Fine, I won’t leave you with a child and run off like that again,” said Altador. “But maybe don’t tell any other children that you’re deadly to touch. It gave poor Paolo quite a scare just now.”

“Only because you decided to poke an extremely poisonous dark faerie,” said the Sleeper. “You could have just said my name or something.”

“I suppose,” said Altador. “Though touching you and not dying certainly did drive the point home.”

“And people say I’m dramatic,” said the Sleeper. “But fine, you’ve made your point. I’ll stop telling lies to small children.”

That, of course, was a lie told to a full-grown Lupe.

But Altador didn’t find that out until the next time the Sleeper wound up babysitting.