Mouvar's Magic

by Piers Anthony

  Kathy fumbled for another stone. At first her fingers missed getting it, and then they found it, fitted it to her sling. "Kill her, Uncle! Kill her!"

  "Kathy, you stop that now!" It was as if he were scolding her for some infraction. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I want it stopped."

  "I'll get you for this!" the hag face promised, then vanished without sinking below the surface. Kathy could see a depression in the water where the beautiful body had been—a trough without motion. She aimed her rock at the place. Her missile struck where she aimed, and bounced. From the waterless area had come a distinct thump, as of rock striking flesh. A moment later the ugliest bird Kathy had ever seen erupted from the spot and shot out of the water, beating its dark wings. The bird, terrible talons extended, flew straight at her face.

  Kathy lifted her sling instinctively and swung. The leather strap wound itself around the warty bird's neck in midflight. The bird somersaulted and fell in a thorny bush, instantly becoming a woman. "I'll get you for this! I'll get you!" the woman screeched.

  Then the woman was gone and the bird was once more there. But as Kathy crouched, ready to strike out with every weapon she had, the bird flew off. She watched it as it flew downriver, then abruptly vanished from the sky.

  "Whew," Kathy said.

  Her uncle said nothing. He merely dropped to the ground as if dead.

  CHAPTER 10

  Bratlings

  Alvin finally got his line in the water. He watched the dark green and bright yellow bobber carefully, focusing on its bright yellow stripes. He was ready to get a fish. Ready to get a bigger fish than Kathy Jon. Ready to be hailed "Big Fisherman."

  "You got a worm on there?" Teddy asked, moving up beside him.

  "Yeah. Haven't you?"

  "Hopgrass. I snuck up on it. Didn't crush it much."

  "Yeah." Alvin let the current take his bait, paying line out the way his father had shown him. He wished he had behaved better that day. Daddy had gotten so mad at him and his brothers that he had threatened to leave them.

  "You know how to get this thing out?"

  "Just take the weight in your hand and toss it out. Don't put your line too close to mine. Keep it closer to shore."

  "Uh-huh. Where's Kathy?"

  "Peeing."

  "She must have drunk a lot."

  "You know girls."

  "Yeah. Here comes Joey."

  "Watch him. Don't let him tangle our lines. He's too young to fish."

  Joey came carrying his fishing pole and one slightly squashed worm. He had the worm squeezed on the hook but the hook wasn't tied to his line.

  "Can you put this on for me?"

  "Yeah. Give it here. You can't tie knots yet, can you, dummy?"

  "Don't call me that! Give me back my line!"

  "I'll fix it for you. You need a weight to get the hook down. And then you need a float. Kathy put them in the lunch basket."

  "The lunch basket?"

  "That's what I said, dummy. Why don't you clean out your ears?"

  "Give me back my line!"

  "No, no, I'll help you. Just get the basket."

  "Can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Basket's gone."

  "How'd that happen?"

  "I made a boat out of it. But I don't know how to tie knots very well. The basket got away."

  "You mean you let our lunch float down the river?"

  "Uh-huh." Joey looked at the worn toes of his boots. His shoulders slumped, his fist went to his eyes, and he began crying.

  "Idiot!" Teddy said.

  Joey sniffled.

  "I ought to make you go after it!"

  "He really should," Alvin said. "Maybe it's hung up on a snag or something. Joey, you walk along the bank and see if you see the basket. Leave your fishing pole here. Teddy, you better go with him."

  "Uh-uh, I'm going to fish."

  "Joey, if you see the basket out in the water, don't try to wade for it. Just come on back. You can't fish until you've got all your equipment. Go now, before the basket floats too far."

  "You're mean to me!" Joey said. He threw down his pole with an angry motion. His face reddened. He ran bawling away from them.

  "Good riddance!" Teddy said.

  "Yeah. Now we can really fish. Maybe he'll chase that basket all day."

  "I hope we don't lose our hooks."

  "Why should we?"

  "Snags."

  "Don't get snagged."

  "Easy to say."

  "Yeah." Alvin decided that his line had floated far enough. He'd gotten so interested in listening to his brothers that he hadn't paid full attention. Most of his line was now in the river.

  He wound in the line, the butt of the pole hard against his stomach. Out in the water the distant float started coming home to him; then it disappeared.

  "Damn!" Alvin said, using a word he wasn't allowed to use at home. "Snag."

  "Told you."

  Alvin twitched the line. The line began moving out.

  "You've got a fish, dummy!"

  "I know it, dummy. Get out of my way!"

  "I'm not in your way."

  "You will be. Get your line out of the water."

  "I want to fish."

  "You can after I land this one."

  "You aren't going to. It'll get away."

  "Shut up! Do as I tell you!"

  "You're not Dad!"

  "Hurry up! If I lose this one I'll drown you."

  Reluctantly, and very slowly it seemed, Alvin's contrary brother wound all his line. He carried the pole a little distance and laid it down on the bank. In the meantime Alvin had a tight hold on his pole and was straining for all he was worth. The fish made the pole bend and bend and bend until its tip almost touched the water. Hurriedly Alvin let loose of his death grip on the line.

  Alvin's line shot out, faster than the current. Soon there would be a loud snap and that would be the end of it. Alvin looked around frantically, saw no help in sight. "Kathy!" he called.

  His sister did not come running. Running! That was the answer. Taking a firm grip on the pole with both hands Alvin tried running along the bank. If he didn't fall down and the fish didn't get off, he might catch it in time.

  "Line's all out?" Teddy called as he passed him.

  "Almost. Come help!"

  "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

  Alvin took the longest strides he could manage. The fish was now pulling him along, having come to the end of the line. Whatever it was, it was a big one. Alvin could think of nothing else but holding on to the pole and running hard as he could go. His eyes blurred, but he couldn't take time to wipe them.

  "Alvin, watch out, you're going to—"

  He felt something hit his ankle and then he was down. The pole pulled from his fingers and went skidding and sliding through the sand and the mud.

  "Teddy! Get that!" Alvin cried.

  Teddy threw himself belly down on the pole and grabbed it with both hands. The line tautened, cut through some weeds, and snapped. Out in the water a great fish splashed.

  Alvin looked downriver, trying to see something. He pounded a fist on the sand, striking a burr into his hand. The burr bit deep and he howled.

  "It wasn't my fault!" Teddy protested.

  "Was too."

  "Was not!"

  "Shut up, I want to swear."

  "Swear a good one, Alvin. Swear some for me."

  "Damn! Double damn! Triple and more damn!"

  "Me too," his brother said, awed by the forbidden power of the outburst.

  Alvin wished his education was more complete. There had to be a worse curse that wasn't actually magical. He searched his memory and came up with something. "Mouvar on a picnic!"

  "Geeee," Teddy said, even more impressed.

  Alvin sat up, pulled the stickleburr from his hand, and rubbed the bleeding, smarting place against his pant leg. He had done his duty now, he felt. He walked over to Teddy.

  "You can't fish now," Teddy said.r />
  "Why can't I?"

  "No equipment."

  "Uh-oh." He reached in his rear pocket and pulled out a small round box of metal. He took the lid off and there were the hooks. "Gee, Alvin." Teddy's eyes were wide. "I didn't know you had those."

  Alvin reached into his shirt pocket and brought out a spool of extra line. Then back into the pocket that had held the hooks, and he had a small bag of lead weights with the copper eyelets on them. Finally, into his left front pocket for a green and yellow float.

  "Gee, Alvin, you thought of everything. But I told Joey they were in the basket."

  "They were once. What Joey doesn't know won't hurt him, will it?"

  Pleased with his foresight but not his luck, Alvin set to work fishing and trying to think up another really powerful curse.

  Joey was panting and crying and stumbling as he ran. He'd spotted the basket caught in some riffles, but then as he got close it slipped off a rock and whirled down the river. It rode out the rapids and then was in the deep, and Joey, who could not yet swim, could only run after it.

  If I get the basket they won't be so mad at me, he thought. He had been thinking that ever since he first spied the basket caught on an overhanging branch. He had crawled out on the branch, fallen in, but held on while the basket went floating on its way. Now muddy from head to toe, soaked to the skin, scratched from bushes and weeds and with stickleburrs in his hair, Joey was desperate. He had never tried so hard to do anything, or failed so many times in a row. He wished he knew magic. With magic he would get the basket, get cleaned, and get home. Let his dumb brothers and sister stay and fish if they wanted—there weren't any fish anyway. Joey wanted home, way home, and his mama and the warm bath and dinner she would have for him. Thinking of the dinner he was missing and fresh corbeans in the pod made him want to cry all the more. But Joey knew that he was a man and that men weren't supposed to cry.

  He stopped running to sit and pant on a tree root, then got up, wiped his eyes, and looked downstream for the basket. It was bobbing way ahead, maybe caught in some riffles. He had to start running, but his sides ached and his scratches hurt. He wished he had Alvin to swear for him—Alvin swore so beautifully.

  Flop! Flop! Flop!

  Joey raised his eyes to the skies. It was a bird flying high above the river, and it was just about the ugliest if not quite the biggest bird he had ever seen. It lowered its height as it neared, then passed him on the bank, and speeding its wing-beats, caught up with the basket.

  "No! No, bird, no!" Joey cried, but the ugly feathered creature was dropping from the sky. It lit on the upright handle of the basket, then shot back into the sky carrying it. Joey's mouth opened. He had never imagined this happening.

  Instead of flying off with its prize, the big bird made a half-circle and started back the way it had come. Maybe it had young birds to feed. Maybe it was just tormenting him the way his brothers liked to do. Joey shook a fist at it: "Bad bird! Bad bird! You give that back!"

  To his astonishment the bird swerved directly toward him. Almost skimming the water with the basket, it flopped over to shore and dropped all the way down until it and the basket were hardly a jump in front of him. The basket settled to the sand. The bird opened its beak, squawked, and hopped off the handle.

  Joey opened and closed his mouth. "It's all right, bird, you can keep the basket. I'm sorry I shook my fist at you. I'm just a little boy. Please don't eat me. You don't eat little boys, do you?"

  The big bird opened and closed its beak. Joey was reminded of what he had just done. "Well, you don't have to be insulting about it!"

  The bird blurred before his eyes, changing to a thick, dark smoke. The smoke roiled and came together and disappeared. In place of the bird there was now a woman who had no clothes on. The woman had everything that Mama had but hers was more smooth and firmed and tight. Joey could imagine what Daddy would say. Then he looked above the rosy-tipped breasts and the smooth, milk-white throat. Her face shocked him. The face was old, and ugly, with wrinkles and lines streaked with what seemed to be handfuls of grease and dirt. The woman's eyes were yellow and rheumy and unpleasant.

  "Were you the bird?" Joey felt strange asking it, and also fearful.

  "Yes, darling boy, I was that bird." She reached out a hand to him—a beautiful, smooth hand unlike his mother's. Clearly this person never had washed dishes and labored at scrubbing floors.

  Joey backed up a step.

  "I won't hurt you," the croaking voice said. It was just such a voice as the bird would have had.

  "I—I don't like your face."

  "Oh, bother! Here!" There was a poof of smoke around her, and when the smoke cleared Joey saw the woman had a face as lovely, if not lovelier, than his mother's. Not only was her skin smooth and white, but her hair was a really pretty red and fell down to her shoulders and full round breasts. Her eyes were greenish—greener than he had thought human eyes could be. Now she was beautiful; now she should be nice.

  The face smiled, making Joey know she was nice. The hand reached his shoulder, patted it, touched his hair, and stroked his cheeks in the way his grandma did.

  "You have the basket." Her voice, too, was now smooth and soft and pretty. "I brought it back for you. The river didn't want you to have it."

  "Y-yes. B-but the food will be spoiled."

  "Look at it."

  Hesitantly he walked over to the basket. Though it had been in the river it appeared to be dry. He reached out to it and opened the lid. Delicious aromas rose from the basket's interior. Inside, and he could hardly accept this, was a lunch such as his sister and mother had surely not prepared: whole roasted chicucks, their wings crisp and brown; dark and light, pink and red cooakes; covered dishes of several kinds; even a bottle of what appeared to be a dark red wine.

  Joey swallowed. "It's the wrong basket."

  "No, dear boy. It's yours. Yours after a little magic."

  "You want me to take it?"

  "It's yours."

  "But—"

  "Don't you think your brothers will be happy when you take this to them?"

  "Y-yes."

  "There's enough food here for a very good picnic. Can you lift the basket?"

  Joey tried. He strained and strained but the basket remained grounded. How could it have floated?

  "I will carry your basket. I will be your guest."

  Joey swallowed. "My brothers—"

  "Oh yes, mustn't shock them." The smooth hands made a butterfly ripple. Smoke puffed and cleared, revealing gradually a beautiful red gown. The material of the gown was what Joey had learned was "satiny," and it seemed to him that every part of her was not so much covered as drenched in the color red. As the wisps of smoke vanished he still saw her milk-white breasts; the gown came up to them, but the nipples were now barely covered with the wonderful red.

  Joey looked at the contours and wondered what was hidden, or if anything was supposed to be. He wasn't much interested in what the woman had, except for the picnic basket.

  "Take my hand, Joey."

  He did, and it was cool, almost clammy, in fact. He was going to ask her why, but with the other hand she made a gesture.

  Smoke puffed around them but did not get in Joey's nose or eyes. The smoke cleared and there were his brothers, both with glum expressions, holding on to their fishing poles. They looked up, saw them, and their mouths opened as Joey's had recently done.

  "I brought us the basket and a picnic," Joey said. "She got it for me. Her name's—" What was her name, anyway?

  "Shady," the beautiful red-gowned creature said. "Shady as in shady under the trees when the sun is beating down on you. Shady, cool and comforting."

  Joey thought it a nice name, but somehow it reminded him of another. He was just about to say when he saw her sprinkling a sparkling powder from her fingertips. The powder went to his face and his brothers' faces; then it vanished and everything was very pretty and very right.

  Looking at his brothers' smiling faces Joey
knew how it would be: in Shady they had a grown-up who, unlike most, was a generous and good friend.

  CHAPTER 11

  Family Connections

  Kelvin opened his eyes and saw a really beautiful girl. She was young, fresh, pretty—everything a young man could want. She was leaning over him where he lay on the ground. Her face was so close to his that he didn't even think about his actions; he simply lifted his head and pressed his lips up against the girl's lips, kissing her.

  A moment later the young girl was standing back, color drained from her cheeks, the pointed tips of her ears red with embarrassment. When she spoke it was with shock: "Uncle Hackleberry, how could you!"

  "What? What?" In a moment it came to him who she was. She was Kathy Jon, his niece. He got to his feet, knowing himself for an old man.

  "I found you here with that—that woman. No, that witch! She was naked and you were going to—going to—"

  "Oh, gods!" It came back to him in a rush, bringing a headache. "I was—I was bewitched."

  "Of course you were. You had to have been."

  "I didn't know who you were just now. I didn't even know who I was. There was this pretty girl's face almost touching mine, and—"

  "Pretty?" Kathy seemed genuinely surprised at the notion. "You think I'm pretty?"

  "Everyone does. You're as pretty as any girl I've ever seen, and not just in the face."

  Kathy's entire head and neck flushed. She still seemed puzzled but pleased. "You—you really think that?"

  "I said it, didn't I? Would your uncle lie to you?"

  "Pretty as that, that—you know?"

  "Pretty as Zady? You saw her face."

  "Pretty as her when she hadn't her own face? When she seemed all beautiful... all over?"

  Kelvin hesitated. He didn't want to lie to his sister's child. To tell her that her beauty was human and Zady's not human might not be right. On the other hand to say she was just as pretty could cause trouble. She was, after all, only fourteen. Whatever he said, it had to be appropriate.

  "Zady's a seductress, Kathy."

  "And a witch."

  "Right. So there's really no proper comparison between the two of you."