“Food” was virtually unrecognizable. Martin wandered into the room Thrushsong had indicated absent-mindedly looking for a refrigerator. His confusion when he didn’t find one only lasted a moment, and he chastised himself for the mental slip. He shook off the fuzz that had been collecting in his mind since arriving in Underland and learning that fantasy was reality and used the food puzzle as a distraction.
Martin consciously widened his perspective on food storage and began to look around the room. It had a low table, like the ones in the Elders’ nest, with a few cushions on the floor around it for sitting on, though little extra padding was required when the floor was made of springy moss. He began looking for cupboards, or something like cupboards, and managed to find some irregularly shaped panels in the wall that seemed to be made of different material from the rest of the wall. But no handle or grip-groove seemed evident. He reached out and tentatively touched one of the panels. Instantly, the panel stirred and Martin jerked his hand away as an opening appeared in the center of the panel and then quickly grew like the opening of an iris. Martin peeked inside and saw small cubby hole containing a few bowls. He was about to reach out and take one when he realized the panel might close up on his hand. The edge of the opening didn’t look sharp or even hard, but Martin had no idea what kind of force it would exert if it found something blocking its action. He put a hand on the wall near the panel and leaned, thinking. The panel closed slowly. Hmm… Martin touched the panel again, opening it, then he touched the wall beside it, and it closed, this time more quickly and decisively, just as Martin had been. It was fascinating! But Martin was hungry. He opened the panel and grabbed a bowl, then closed the panel again, seeing no actual edible material inside.
Martin opened the other panels, one by one, and found only spoons, jugs, cups and a few more bowls. He collected a cup and a spoon. I might as well be prepared just in case the impossible does happen and I actually find something to put in my mouth. Then he saw a little section of the wall that jutted out, like a counter, with a long, trough-like basin in it. Above the basin were several of what could only be described as the faerie version of beer taps! Martin yipped a short laugh of triumph and hurried to the taps. They were made of some sort of plaster-like stuff, not brass, but he was sure something edible or at least potable would come out of them. He reached out to touch the first one, the one farthest from the drain in the basin, and instantly, he tasted, no, more than tasted, he felt the sensation of water in his mouth. When he took his hand away, the sensation was gone. He tried touching the other taps and the same thing happened, though the taste and feel was different for each one. Some were very sweet and syrupy, like honey, and some were thick and almost buttery, like cream, others were nearly paste-like and had various nutty flavours. He placed his bowl under one of these and tried squeezing a little knobby protrusion on the tap. A thick paste oozed into his bowl like ice-cream from the soft-serve machine at Dairy Queen. He supplemented that with a bit of the thinnest sweet syrup, then filled his cup with water, and sat down at the table to eat.
The food filled Martin up quickly, and he felt healthier after just a few mouthfuls. Even the water seemed more refreshing than Martin was used to. Not a moment after Martin had taken the last draught from his cup of water a voice called out from the main room.
“Martin Bentbrook!” It was not Thrushsong. Martin placed his dishes in the basin hoping that was where they were meant to go when used, and hurried into the main room. The surly guard faerie stood in the doorway. “You are summoned by the Elder Council. Come with me.”
“Where is Thrushsong?”
“Your host’s immediate duties are not your concern, human. Your only concern is not keeping the Elder Council waiting. Come with me.” The faerie stepped to the side of the entrance, giving Martin room to pass through. Martin sighed and obliged. He nearly fell out of the nest.
“Where are the steps? How can I go the the Elders’ nest if you don’t make a path for me?” Martin was about to round on the faerie when he felt two strands of rope snake around his torso, one at the top and one at the bottom, and tighten. Without another word, the faerie pushed Martin out the entry-hole.
