Read Snow White and Rose Red Online
Authors: Patricia Wrede
Snow White and Rose Red (24 page)
“And when will they attempt it next?” Madini demanded.
“May Eve,” Furgen said, giving her a sideways look. “Or rather, May Eve Day. They seem to think the sunlight benefits the spell.”
“May Eve,” Madini said, narrowing her eyes. “They could have picked a more convenient time.”
“I doubt they chose it for our benefit,” Furgen said politely.
“Peace, fool! Thou‘st done well, but do not try my temper. What’s next to do?”
“Steal back whatever thing they keep their part of Hugh in,” Bochad-Bec replied promptly. “A purblind cow could see as much.”
Madini pressed her lips together angrily; then, slowly, she smiled. “Indeed thou‘rt right, goblin,” she purred. “And thou wilt be the one to steal it.”
“Why me?” Bochad-Bec demanded. “Thy skill’s greater.”
“Because thou‘st done the least of us thus far,” Madini snapped. “And I must be with the Queen all day, in preparation for the evening revels. Is it agreed?”
“Agreed,” Bochad-Bec said sourly. “An thou‘lt tell me what I am to steal.”
“Hast thou no ears, or has some wight filled them up with lead? Thou‘st heard what Furgen said: the mortals’ spell hath trapped Hugh’s essence in a lamp. That’s the thing we want. And when thou hast it, do naught with it thyself, but bring it to me straight. I’ll not have our hopes brought to ruin by thy clumsy-fingered magics. ”
Bochad-Bec snorted derisively. Madini ignored him and turned to Furgen. “And do thou still keep thy watch on the humans and bring me news of all their doings. We needs must know more than the paltry scraps thou‘st told us thus far. Until tomorrow, fare you well.”
Madini nodded to her companions and swept out of the clearing. Bochad-Bec spat in the general direction of the ground where she had been standing. “Why dost thou bear with her?” he asked Furgen.
“I’ve reasons,” Furgen replied. It smiled suddenly, showing all its pointed teeth in a humorless grimace. “Even as I’ve reason to bear with thee. Canst thou perform her bidding?”
“Oh, aye; I’ll steal whate‘er those men bring. Mortals are blind and deaf in the woods.”
“I trust thou‘rt right to think so,” Furgen said dryly. “I do trust thou’rt right.”
With that, the Faerie conspirators parted, Furgen to its continuing vigil outside John Dee’s study window and Bochad-Bec to his preparations for the theft of the lamp. Among other things, these included a visit to the place at the edge of Faerie where Dee and Kelly planned to work their magic. Fortunately, he chose a day when Rosamund, Blanche, and John were scouring the commons outside Mortlak in search of the small, pendulous flowers of wild daffodils. Thus, Madini and her compatriots remained ignorant of the existence and the plans of this second group of human magicians. Likewise, John and his friends knew nothing of either the Faerie plots and plans, or those of Masters Dee and Kelly. Dee and Kelly, in turn, did not suspect that there were others who knew of their business in the forest, or who would have business of their own on May Eve. So, in whole or partial ignorance, the three groups prepared to converge on the glen at the edge of the Faerie border.
CHAPTER · FIFTEEN
“The dwarf glared at the girls and cried angrily, ‘Why are you just standing there? Come here and help me!’ ‘What are you doing?’ asked Rose Red. ‘You stupid goose!’ the dwarf answered. ‘If you must know, I was trying to split this tree for firewood. But the cursed wedge was too smooth, and when I drove it in it popped right out again and the tree closed on the end of my beautiful beard. So now I am caught tight and must stand here while you silly, stupid girls laugh.’“The girls tried hard to free the dwarf, but his beard was caught too firmly. ‘I’ll go and bring someone to help, ’ said Rose Red. ‘Fool!’ snarled the dwarf. ‘There are already two too many of you to suit me. Think of something else.’ ‘I know,’ said Snow White, and she took her scissors out of her pocket and cut off the end of the dwarf’s beard. ”
THE LAST DAY OF APRIL DAWNED CLEAR AND COOL. Well before the sun was up, John Dee and Edward Kelly were out of Mortlak and heading for the forest, their bags and bundles swinging awkwardly about them. Their departure was noticed only by Furgen, comfortably ensconced in a stand of reeds beside the water stairs. The water creature watched through slitted eyes as the two men left; then it slipped away to warn Bochad-Bec of their coming.
John and the Widow’s daughters set out somewhat later in the day, but the Widow did not accompany them. At the last minute, while the girls were packing their supplies in baskets, Mistress Townsend appeared unexpectedly at the cottage door. Fortunately, the Widow’s inquisitive neighbor took Rosamund and Blanche’s preparations for the beginning of an ordinary herb-gathering.
“I marvel that you let your daughters roam the woods so freely still,” Mistress Townsend told the Widow disapprovingly.
“‘Tis kind of you to think of them,” the Widow answered.
Something in her tone reminded Mistress Townsend of the tongue-lashing she had gotten the last time she broached this subject, and she said hastily, “‘Tis because of that strange bear that haunts the forest. You’ve heard the tale of Master Kirton’s hunt, have you not?”
“As many versions as there were men,” the Widow said calmly. “I see no reason to be troubled by such wild stories. But what brings you here, Mistress Townsend?”
Mistress Townsend was, it developed, in search of a poultice for her husband’s strained shoulder. She was also in a mood for talking, and it was soon plain that she would not easily be detached from the Widow’s side. Blanche and Rosamund finished their packing quickly and quietly, then stood uncertainly beside the door. The Widow, turning from her shelves of herbs, saw Mistress Townsend looking curiously in their direction, and realized that if her unwelcome visitor were not to suspect that this was an unusual venture, the girls would have to leave without her.
“What, still here?” the Widow said. “Off with you, now, and have a care to the chicory, if you find any.”
“I thought thou wert to join us,” Rosamund said.
“Your mother’s busy, girl,” Mistress Townsend answered. “Surely that can wait for another day!”
“I’ll show you the shoots I spoke of on the morrow,” the Widow said. “This day’s task you must accomplish without me.”
“But, Mother—” Blanche began.
“Go on! Needs must, and there’s an end on it.” She turned firmly away as her daughters reluctantly complied with her command.
Rosamund and Blanche were still unsettled when they met John at the edge of the forest. He noticed their disquiet at once, and the Widow’s absence, and immediately asked the cause.
“Mistress Townsend came to visit,” Blanche explained, “and Mother had to stay behind with her. ‘Twas plain that she was uneasy. ”
“She was the same the first time we went berrying without her,” Rosamund said. “Remember, Blanche? And when we returned, she sorted through our baskets twice, to see that we’d brought no harmful herbs in error.”
“Our errand’s somewhat more serious today,” Blanche said gently.
“Must we abandon our task, then?” John said, frowning.
“I do not think so,” Rosamund replied. “Mother said that we could accomplish this without her, and I think that ‘twill make small difference to the spell if her part’s split twixt Blanche and me. ”
“She did not say we could,” Blanche corrected. “She said we must; ‘tis not the same. What if we do some harm to Hugh without her?”
“We’ve practiced our parts till we could do them half-asleep,” Rosamund retorted. “Neither thou nor Mother need fear we’ll get them wrong, and if it is the spell itself that’s faulty, there’s naught that she could do in the midst of it. Nor need Mother think we’ll change the spell without her counsel; she’s taught us both too well for that.”
“That’s not her true concern, and thou knowest it. Mother frets lest someone see and call us witches, and she frets the more because she cannot come with us.”
“Her presence would not lessen such a charge,” Rosamund said practically. “And there’s no advantage in all three of us being imprisoned. Belike we should have thought of it sooner, and planned all along for her to stay behind.”
John laughed, and Blanche frowned at him. “‘Tis no matter for laughter, sir,” she said. “Do you not know what becomes of witches, if they’re caught?”
“They’re hanged,” John said promptly.
Rosamund frowned at his tone. “You should not take it lightly, Master Rimer.”
“Nor do I,” John said more seriously. “But I assure you none of us will face that fate for this day’s work.”
“How can you be so certain?” Rosamund asked. Her tone was skeptical, but her eyes betrayed curiosity, and perhaps something stronger.
“My skill in magic’s small, yet I think I can weave a barrier to keep unwanted folk from intruding on us,” John answered.
“I do not doubt it,” Rosamund said, widening her eyes in mock sincerity. “For I remember that ‘twas your ’small’ skill that pixy-led all Master Kirton’s hunt.” She spoiled her pretense of innocence with a sudden impish smile.
John could not help but smile in return, but he shook his head. “And you’ve seen what it led me to. The Great Ones of Faerie could have performed the task with a nod and an eyeblink, and danced the night through after. Do not mispraise my skills because they’re more than yours.”
“Then thou must not miscall them ‘poor’ because thy Faerie friends have different ones,” Rosamund shot back, a hint of real anger in her voice. “Nor mayest thou claim thy power is less because it is unlike; thou art as able as the best of them, I’ll warrant!”
“You know but little of the Faerie folk,” John said, astonished by her vehemence.
“I know they could do naught to help thy brother,” Rosamund retorted fiercely. “Thou wilt try, at least.”
“That may be credit to my care for Hugh, but it means nothing where my skill’s concerned. In Faerie—”
“Thou‘rt not in Faerie now!” Rosamund interrupted.
“She has the right of it,” rumbled a voice from a clump of bushes, and an instant later Hugh shouldered his way through them. “And thou shouldst pay more heed to thy surroundings. A pack of townsfolk singing could have come upon you all without your noticing.”
“Nay, I was watching,” Blanche said, smiling warmly at the bear. “But I see thy shape affects thy temperament; ‘tis as well we go to change it now.”
“Oh, Hugh’s temper has always been thus,” John said, looking slyly at his brother.
This prompted a denial from Hugh and an indignant and somewhat muddled defense from Blanche. The mock quarrel continued until they had almost reached their destination, when Hugh, who had taken the lead, suddenly sat back on his haunches and raised his nose to sniff the air.
“What art thou about, bear?” Rosamund said irritably, as she barely stopped in time to avoid running into his broad, furry back.
“Quiet,” Hugh growled. “Someone is before us.” In the course of the winter, he had of necessity learned to understand and use the abilities of his bear’s body. The strong scent of humans had been one of the first and easiest to identify, and he smelled it on the eddying air ahead. “Two men.” Hugh hesitated, and his snout wrinkled, pulling the edges of his mouth back in a grimace that showed his pointed yellow teeth. “Two men, and something else.”
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