Once Upon a Curse

by Peter Beagle

  The cauldron glowed, and I reached into it, and pulled the wand from the water. I put it against my heart. Thank you.

  I opened my eyes, and realized my head was on Gregory’s lap. I sat up immediately, and he looked at my hands.

  “Well?”

  I plucked at the skin above my heart, and pushed out with my mind. Slowly I unsheathed the wand from my flesh. He looked a little pale.

  “In shock, farmer? Have you never had a splinter?”

  “I,” he said, “am not amused.”

  I avoided the house. I was afraid Danae would sense my renewed power, so I decided to bide my time until they left for the ball.

  Elenore was kneeling in the garden. She was weeping, leaning against a stone bench. The ruins of her dress lay on the ground, smoldering.

  I sat on the bench. “Now, my child, after all I’ve said, you still don’t have any faith in me?”

  She looked up, shaking her head.

  “I may not have had much luck in getting you your happily ever after…yet…but I am quite talented in the conjuring of clothes department.”

  She laughed, and then said, “Will you give me a cloak of kingfisher feathers again, then?”

  I drew my wand out of my sleeve, tapping it on the back of my hand. “Oh, no, dear, I’m afraid that is a bit out of season.”

  “Just a bit?”

  I winked at her, and she laughed, rubbing her face dry.

  “Well, let’s see.” I stood. “First, you need a coach.” I could sense Gregory in the shadows, and I looked at him. He raised his eyebrows and grinned like a fox. Behind him I could see the shadow of Edgar and the cart, for he did not dare leave them alone. I made a show of cracking my knuckles, and rolling back my sleeves. “I need…a pumpkin.”

  She ran over to the garden. “Here’s one!”

  “No, no…don’t pick it. The vines are rather nice.” I raised the wand with a flourish, and the pumpkin grew and grew, the vines becoming the under carriage and wheels. When I was done, I had a peach-and-pale-green carriage.

  Eleanor’s mouth was open. She swallowed, and said, “What do we need next?”

  “Edgar,” I said solemnly.

  Gregory took him out of his traces, and urged him forward.

  I waved the wand again, and he became a man, dressed in grey, though I added peach facings to his fine jacket. His teeth were predictably bucked, his ears a bit large, but he laughed as he ran his hands over his arms. “Edgar, dear, do you think you could drive?”

  He tried to speak, frowned, and then merely looked at me imperiously.

  “Don’t spoil my donkey,” Gregory said, and Edgar gave him a look that promised he would step on Gregory’s feet at the first opportunity.

  “Now…mice. We need mice.” I called them with the wand, promising something wonderful, and they came out of the garden and the attic. As they appeared, I made each one into a dapple grey horse. They walked meekly into the traces, which harnessed the beasts of their own accord.

  “And now for a footman!” I pointed the wand at Gregory.

  “No.”

  “But who else can I trust to see her there safe?” I asked, and lifted my wand just as he said, “but no powdered wig!”

  “Oops.” I said, as he gave me a disgusted look, knowing full well he wore a powdered wig, along with matching livery.

  I had to admit, he didn’t look bad, not at all. Well, perhaps the powdered wig didn’t suit him, but the rest…

  “And now,” I said softly, “For you.”

  She looked at me in anticipation.

  “Moonbeams and sunshine on water. Diamonds and silk. Rose petals and lavender.”

  I pointed my wand, and the dress appeared, white as snow, heavily embroidered in pale blue, beads of diamonds and sapphires flashing, adding to the pattern. She wore a pear-shaped diamond necklace, and her hair was studded with diamond pins. And on her feet…

  She gently bent down. “They’re glass.” They rang as she brought her heels together. “Sorry,” she said, embarrassed.

  “I’ve always loved the idea of glass slippers,” I admitted. They were clear, but still had a sort of sheen to them.

  Like the ones that I had given to Yeh-Shen, they were enchanted.

  She covered her mouth with one hand.

  “If you cry, your face will be all blotchy. Come, dear, get into your coach.”

  Gregory helped her up, even making sure her skirt was out of the way of the door.

  I turned myself into an owl, and we were off to the ball.

  I felt a stirring of pride as I flew above them, coasting around the castle spires before settling on a pediment to watch her walk up the stairs and into the ballroom. The place glowed with a thousand candles, causing everyone to sparkle like the stars.

  Except for her. She glowed like the sun, and every eye was upon her, especially the prince’s, who came out to dance with her before anyone else could. His smile was pure recognition.

  “He recognized her. I could swear it is so,” I said as I came around the edge of the coach. Gregory jumped, and cast me a glare.

  “They did play together as children,” he reminded me, as I joined him. We were sitting on the side of the bridge, cool white marble as wide as a bench.

  “It was more than that. I think he truly knew her.”

  Guards approached us from the castle gates, but we ignored them. They weren’t looking at us, but straight ahead. As the quartet passed, we rose as one and crossed to the coach. I stroked the lead horse, while Gregory looked up at Edgar.

  “How are you doing, old boy?”

  He hadn’t mastered speech yet, so he simply sat taller in his seat and grinned. I had to resist the urge to offer him an apple.

  The four guards were coming back, and four more were coming from the castle. “That’s rather elaborate, two patrols of four at all times?” I asked. “Is that normal?”

  “No,” Gregory said, for they had stopped, and pointed their swords at us.

  “That is them,” a voice said, “They are the ones who said they would kill the prince!”

  “Really, sister, charming the guards? That’s not fair.” I said to Eleanor’s stepmother, who was currently cowering behind one of the guards.

  “Search them. They have weapons.”

  “Run,” Gregory said to me, as two of the men grabbed him by his arms. There was no chance for a fight, we had been caught unprepared, and I had been made a fool again.

  “Give up the wand, or they’ll gut your human plaything from stem to stern,” she hissed at me.

  I believed her.

  I took out the wand, and looked at it. “It must have galled you, to know father would never have wanted you to have his wand.” The clock began to chime, the loud noise distracting as I carefully snapped the wand in half and hoped the backlash would be enough.

  The backlash undid everything in its path. Mice ran onto the bridge and climbed onto the guards, who didn’t understand why they were here, and not at their post. One of them tripped over the pumpkin. Edgar the donkey nearly ran over my sister in his fear over the sudden transformation. My sister was on her knees, her beauty gone, her features twisted by years of evil and dark magic, rotting away what was left of her soul.

  Gregory, in his farmer’s clothes, grabbed my arm, and pulled me off the bridge. Behind us, I could hear someone calling.

  Eleanor was at the top of the stairs, the sparkles of her dress fading one by one. She tripped and fell, then picked herself back up, running across the bridge. She threw herself past the guards, and into the woods. As she passed us, the final chime of midnight tolled, and silk streamed into rags.

  Gregory and I joined her, melting into the darkness.

  She allowed Gregory to wrap her in his cloak while we hid her from the Prince’s men, who were frantically searching for her.

  “I lost the shoe,” she said softly.

  “Good girl,” I said, and she gaped at me, and then laughed.

  After I put
her to bed and made certain Gregory and Edgar were safe, I took a walk.

  I hadn’t expected her to come at me in such a way. My sister was usually subtle. She wanted to be the clever one, but this time she’d used brute force to get her way. That was why I wasn’t expecting it, and that was what she’d been counting on.

  I took the pieces of the wand out of my pocket. They fit perfectly together, not a splinter missing. To heal such a thing would require a great sacrifice. It could be healed, but I was not sure if I wanted to pay the cost.

  So close to winning, every time. But I would never be able to assure the safety of my two charges, not until my sister was defeated.

  I had seen more than either of us had bargained for. When the backlash took her glamour away, I saw that my sister was dying. She wouldn’t forgive that, or die before me without a fight.

  I stood between two trees and placed a hand on each, closing my eyes and seeking. When she faded, when I faded, there would be no more of us. No more fairy godmothers. No more changeling children.

  The stories men told would be only the shadows of us, that and the breeze through the trees, whispering to those who had the ability to hear. After a time, no one would remember that we had truly been.

  I knelt where I stood and the two pieces of wand were back in my hand. Without the wand, without the magic of my forefathers, I would never win. I poured my own magic into it. Every drop I placed inside the wand, bidding it to heal, calling back the magic of my father, my father’s father, his mother, and the line of my people since first we breathed and ruled.

  There was no magic left within me, but the wand was healed. As long as I held it, I had power. But the power wouldn’t last. It had never been broken before, and the cracks where I had snapped it in two showed red and blue and green. It bled gold, and I wrapped it in a ribbon, and held it against my chest.

  One chance and one chance alone. If I failed, it would be for eternity, and I would not be one of the voices that whispered in the trees. I would be nothing. But worse still, Eleanor and her prince would dance the same tragic waltz, over and over, until the world died.

  I made sure not to be there when my sister entered the kitchen.

  “The Prince wishes to find the maiden who dropped her slipper at the ball last night. He is stupidly besotted with her,” she said to Eleanor. “He is coming here, first, and will bid every young woman of this house to come and try it on. We both know that you have good reason to be one of those, but this cannot happen.” She raised her hand, and when she brought it down, Eleanor was a dove. She fluttered around, terrified, finally settling on a rafter.

  “I love it when things come full circle, don’t you?”

  Gregory had been watching over Eleanor, and he crept into the kitchen and gathered the terrified bird to his chest.

  Meanwhile, I was being very, very useful to the prince himself. For the second…or maybe third, but certainly no more than that, time in my life, I was disguised as a man.

  “This is the house, my prince, I am certain of it,” I said as I held his horse. He held the slipper carefully, but I told the horse to sidestep, and the prince was too tired to catch himself and hold the slipper at the same time. My hand caught the shoe an inch from the ground and the wand slipped down out of my sleeve long enough to tap the glass with the tip of it.

  “Here you go, sir, sorry about that sir,” I said as he took the slipper from me.

  “All will be forgiven if you are right,” he said, and we went up to the front door.

  Inside the house, we saw what I expected: The stepmother, regal and cruel, the two daughters—one eager, one cowed.

  “My slipper! I was so hoping you’d found it!” The eldest leapt up, looking genuinely happy.

  “You aren’t the woman who was wearing it,” the prince said with certainty. He looked at me. “Is everyone assembled?”

  “Of course we are all here,” their mother replied. “All but the ash-girl, our Cinderella. You don’t expect an ash-girl would own such a fine slipper?” She smiled. “Besides, you said you would wed the girl who can wear that slipper. Therefore, my daughters are both eligible.”

  He flinched, as if hit by a spell. I threw a counter spell. It weakened her curse, but it did not undo it. He was still confused. I did not dare do more for fear of alerting her.

  “I suppose that is so…” He allowed one of the guards to take the slipper, and the eldest, her own feet enchanted, slipped her foot right in.

  But she could not keep it in. Her foot began to burn and itch, and she jerked it out of the shoe.

  “It fit!” she said, triumphantly.

  “You did not say anything about fitting…you said who could wear. And she cannot wear it.” I coaxed the Prince to say for me.

  A dove fluttered in, and sat on the mantle. My sister’s eyes narrowed on it, and I did not need Gregory’s gestures from the shadows of the hallway to tell me who was now in the room.

  “I’ll get it, your grace,” I said, chasing it from the mantle. She flew away, hiding herself behind the curtains.

  “Let my youngest try,” the stepmother said. “She has a stronger constitution…”

  I cast a spell toward the curtain and hoped I hit her.

  “Oh! Oh! My foot is on fire!” I heard the youngest sister say.

  “Is there no one else here who can try on the slipper?” the Prince said impatiently.

  “I can, if you like?” Eleanor peeked from behind the curtain, and he smiled at her.

  “There you are. I was getting worried.” He came forward and took her hands, and kissed them.

  “I haven’t even tried on the slipper yet. How do you know it’s me?”

  “I knew. I knew it when I saw you last night. I think I even knew it when we played together as children.”

  Perhaps it was because I was in male form, but I felt sick to my stomach. I should change back, I decided. So I did.

  My sister looked at me. “It doesn’t have to be this way. I do not want to kill you, after all. If I’d wanted that, I’ve certainly had my chances.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I can’t allow you to hurt them any more, not just to show my father how unworthy I am.”

  “Do you think he sees?”

  I drew the wand and pointed it at her Chest. “I think so.”

  I took a breath, “Undo.”

  Her breath caught in her chest, and she began to unravel. As she unraveled, she faded, becoming ribbons, and shadow, and then nothing.

  The wand, overcome by this most powerful of spells, shattered, and then vanished in a small puff of smoke.

  I fell to the floor, the severing of everything ever was a feeling too great, too empty to take in.

  “She was going to kill you. She was going to kill us both,” Eleanor said. “You saved our lives.”

  “I will be all right,” I murmured to Gregory, who helped me sit up, but I did not believe it.

  Saving the prince and his wife’s life grants you many things. It grants you a big pouch of gold and jewels. It grants you an invitation to the wedding. I accepted the first, but not the latter.

  “I was never meant to be a part of that,” I said to her. “I don’t dare attend. I should never have been a part of your lives.”

  She understood, I think.

  Before I had gone to the prince to lead him to his intended wife, I had conducted one great spell. I conjured a ring out of platinum to give to my oldest of friends. When given in marriage, it protects the people who are bound together by it. It gives them healthy, strong children, and guarantees that the worst sorrows will pass them by.

  In short, anyone who marries with this ring will live happily ever after.

  He had left, Gregory and his never ending cart of food, half a day ahead of me, so I granted myself only a few hours of sleep. I was counting on the fact he had a cart to slow him down. I hoped I could catch up. It was odd, and tiring, to be human, to be so hungry and tired all the time.

  I cut over a h
ill, and saw him. I waved tiredly until he noticed, stopped, and waited for me.

  I hugged him, again overwhelmed by the desire to sink into him.

  I would never sink into a tree again, I realized.

  It was another one of those fist-to-the-chest moments, but I breathed through it, and walked alongside of him, Edgar in between us.

  “You need shoes,” he said, looking at my bare feet. “We have to get you some at the next town.”

  I had only ever worn shoes as part of a disguise. I had never needed them. My people had always stayed connected to the ground.

  “Where I come from,” I said, thinking of my gentle Cinderella and her longing, always constant, for slippers, “If a man gave a woman a pair of shoes, she became his wife immediately, the moment she put them on.”

  He was silent for a long moment, and I let my mind drift. I felt so empty, like a well in the desert, echoingly, devastatingly hollow.

  Some men would ask what I planned to do next, but he did not. Some would ask how I felt, now that I was not one bit what I once was, but he did not.

  I only half noticed when he pushed Edgar’s lead into my hand, I just kept plodding along like Edgar, one foot in front of the other.

  After a while he came back and knelt in front of me, holding out his own shoes, filled with moss and sweet grasses to make them fit me. They would look ridiculous, so huge on my small feet.

  I smiled down at his earnest face, and slipped one foot, then the other, into his too large shoes.

  They could not have fit me better had they been made out of glass.

  Credits

  “A Necklace of Rubies” by Cindy Lynn Speer: first published by Drollerie Press , 2007

  “Come Lady Death” by Peter S. Beagle : first published in Atlantic , 1963

  “Summer Wind” by Nancy Kress: first published in “Ruby Slippers, Golden Tears”, editors Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling, Avon , 1995