A Charm for a Unicorn

by Jennifer Macaire

  "Well, if you put it that way.” The man pointed to the ship with the tip of his saber. “Go on now, I'm right behind you, and no funny business."

  Renaldo sighed deeply. “You have to give me the gold coin now. I don't suppose you'll be inclined to give it to me later, and if you don't give it to me now, I'll tell the Captain I get sea-sick."

  "You don't, do you?” The man looked horrified.

  Renaldo stuck out his hand. “The coin, please."

  After he pocketed the gold coin, he walked with a jaunty stride down to the edge of the water where a rowboat lay beached on the sand. “I suppose you'll be wanting me to row?"

  "You are a smart fellow. I've a feeling you'll be working your way up in the ranks in no time. Why, t'wouldn't surprise me to hear you'd been made chief navigator, or even first mate this time next year."

  Renaldo tried to look both thrilled and modest. “You're too kind,” he said, pushing the boat into the water. “After you?"

  "I'll push off.” The man kept his saber in his hand as he leapt into the boat and settled in the stern. “Go on, put yer back to it, boy."

  Obviously he trusted no one, thought Renaldo with some amusement. But despite his easy grin and bantering, he trembled with impatience to be off toward his kingdom and to Leonie. He would get her back, and find some way to reduce Sir Wulfe to a pile of smoking ashes.

  The man cleared his throat. “You've just about broken that oar, lad. Take it easy now. No one's going to hurt you if you behave."

  Renaldo looked up, surprised. “Sorry, I was just thinking about someone."

  There was a moment of silence, broken only by the steady splashing of Renaldo's oars, then the man said with a serious tone. “Take my advice, lad. Forget your thirst for revenge. Whatever happened to you, put it behind you. I've seen the look in your eyes before, and it leads to nowhere but sorrow."

  Renaldo paused, then resumed rowing. “I can't. He's taken my true love and I won't rest until I get her back."

  The man nodded. “Oh, aye, I didn't think you'd agree just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “But when you do find yourself face to face with your enemy, remember what I said. The lust for vengeance poisons a man's soul."

  "A recruiter and a philosopher.” Renaldo grinned, but his heart wasn't in it. The ship loomed near and the gold coin in his pocket was all he possessed. Still, he knew how to sail, and navigation came easily to him. And he would find Leonie. He would return to her, whatever road he had to follow ... or whatever sea he had to sail.

  He stowed the oars and grabbed the rope ladder dangling from the side of the boat. “I suppose you'll be right behind me?” he asked the recruiter.

  "With my saber pointing up, so make sure you don't slip, lad,” he said with a laugh.

  * * * *

  Renaldo proved himself an able sailor—so much that he soon rose to a position of responsibility—the assistant chef. True, he knew how to navigate and could tell a mainsail from a jib, but his real talent lay in peeling potatoes. At least, that's what the cook had told him. So, he sat in the dark kitchen, paring knife in hand, a burlap bag full of potatoes at his feet.

  "To be sure, I'm a clever fellow to have landed on this ship. It could have been worse, I might have been left to rot on the island. At least here I get food and water, and the work isn't too hard. We're sailing south, and my talents for navigation tell me I'm heading in the right direction.” He sighed and tossed a peeled potato in a pot of salted water. That's when he noticed the mouse. Smaller than the smallest mouse he'd ever seen, the tiny creature looked like a gray, furry walnut with beady, black eyes.

  "Here, you look hungry,” Renaldo said, tossing it a piece of potato. He had no idea if mice even liked vegetables, but that was all he had until the ship got new supplies.

  The mouse peered at him from behind the water barrel, then it darted out, grabbed the potato, and dashed back to its shelter. Sitting on its haunches, it nibbled, its little whiskers quivering with what looked like satisfaction. Then it looked at Renaldo and said, “Do you always talk to yourself?"

  Renaldo nearly dropped the potato he was peeling and gaped at the little mouse. “You ... you talk?"

  "No, you're hallucinating.” The mouse shrugged. “Of course I talk. Don't mind me, keep talking. I've been lonely."

  "Did someone cast a spell on you?"

  "Why do you ask that? What do you know about magic?” The mouse's whiskers trembled in agitation.

  "Well, I know enough about mice to know they don't usually talk. I can't say I know much about magic, although my true love did get changed into a unicorn by an evil magician."

  The mouse looked interested. “Now there's a story,” he said. He scurried out from behind the water barrel and sat near Renaldo's bare feet. “Tell me about it."

  Renaldo did, and the mouse sat thoughtfully while Renaldo finished peeling the potatoes. Then it spoke up. “Well, I'll tell you what. You've come to the right man or I should say mouse. In reality, I'm a mighty magician. But I tend to lose my temper easily and I challenged a stronger wizard to a duel. The result is yours truly.” He stood on his hind legs and bowed. “I pledge my cause to you, Prince Renaldo."

  "Just Renaldo is fine by me. I am assistant cook here, not royalty, and besides, I don't think I want my identity known. My companions might take it in their heads to hold me for ransom."

  "The more value you have in their eyes, the better they will treat you,” the mouse pointed out.

  "True. But I'd rather stay incognito a while longer and be just the assistant cook.” Renaldo gave the mouse a crooked grin. “At any rate, I have to go to topside to cook the potatoes."

  "What about my offer to help?"

  Renaldo didn't think the mouse could help him, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings. “I'll let you know if I find a plan,” he said.

  "Good, I was getting tired of staying on this ship.” The little mouse waved then skipped back to its hiding place.

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  Chapter Nine

  A Twisted Spell

  "Lady Leonie, I hope you will be kind enough to join me this evening at eight to dine.” Sir Wulfe always spoke politely.

  "Thank you, Sir Wulfe, I'll be there at eight.” Leonie too remained polite. She waited until she was sure he'd left his castle. Then she went to the kitchens.

  She'd found solace in the simple chores the cooks gave her. At first they wouldn't hear of her helping, but she insisted, and finally they gave in and let her peel the apples, cut carrots, and tend to the salads and vegetables. There was something comforting in the earthy scent of a leek, or in the creamy skin of a parsnip. Apples reminded her of home, although the kitchens in Sir Wulfe's castle were far grander than her kitchen had been. Bustling about the kitchen here were the head cook, his two assistants, a scullery maid, and a waiter. The cook always made sure she tied an apron around her waist, so as not to dirty her elegant robe.

  She had the most beautiful dresses she'd ever seen. Every day the governess brought her another fine gown. Fresh flowers filled her room, she had a piano and a harp to play, and a tutor for dancing, singing and painting. She even had a horse at her disposition for riding. None of those things interested her in the slightest.

  She had no interest in gowns. The hothouse flowers were lovely, but she loved the meadow flowers in the fields better. She knew how to play the piano and the harp, but her fingers blundered on the chords and her heart wasn't light enough for music, dancing or painting. Her songs were melancholy, and so she didn't play. As for riding, she liked the horse, it was a pretty chestnut mare with a sweet disposition, but she'd never ridden before and there was no one to teach her.

  The only thing she wanted was to be allowed to walk in the woods. Since turning into a unicorn, she had an almost frantic yearning to go to the forest. But Sir Wulfe wouldn't hear of it.

  "Until you marry me, you must stay in the confines of the castle, the courtyard, the stables, and the meadow. Everything
else is out of bounds. If you try to go anywhere else I shall know about it instantly and fetch you back with a whirlwind. I can be anywhere in minutes, so don't try my patience or my hospitality.” He had spoken softly, but there was steel behind his words, and Leonie knew someone watched her constantly. Even her dreams were filled with eyes.

  She bided her time. There was always a doorway, an opportunity, a chink in the defenses. She would wait, she would never give in, and she would never bend to his will. The winter solstice seemed far, even as the first storms of autumn tore the leaves from the trees.

  * * * *

  Leonie watched as a storm swept across the heavens. Lightning flashed and crackled, and thunder boomed, shaking the castle. In her room, the candles flickered as a window flew open. With a rustle of silk, she ran to close it, but not before the wind blew the candles out. In the gloom she leaned her forehead against the cold windowpane. Her fingers tightened on the windowsill as she stared at the glowering sky reflected in the choppy waters of the lake.

  A sudden movement caught her eye, and she peered through the rain-washed glass as two horses and a rider galloped over the drawbridge and into the courtyard. The rider got off his horse, his face shadowed by his hood.

  Seeming to ignore the slashing rain, he stood in the middle of the courtyard, in a puddle, and stared at the castle. Then he strode to the front door, where he was lost from Leonie's sight. His two ponies, left to themselves, started munching on the hedges near the bridge.

  Curious, Leonie left her room and made her way to the top of the stairs to see who had come. She arrived just as the butler opened the door and a figure stepped into the hall.

  The figure flung off his sopping cloak and became a young man with dark hair and flashing green eyes. Leonie blinked. There was something familiar about the young man. “I want to see the magician.” The young man spoke with authority, and—Leonie gasped—Renaldo's voice! He sounded just like Renaldo!

  The butler looked at the puddle beneath the young man's feet and sniffed loudly. “Sir Wulfe is in the study. I will go fetch him. Please wait here."

  Leonie hurried down the stairs just as the butler disappeared down the hallway. The young man watched her, his eyes growing wider as she approached.

  His mouth opened, but before he could say a word, she grabbed his hand and dragged him back outside into the pouring rain.

  "Get on your horse and get out of here!” Leonie shrieked, pushing him toward his pony.

  The young man gaped at her. “I am the Prince Sylvain, Renaldo's brother, and I have come to rescue you."

  "I don't need rescuing. I'll escape by myself. If you are caught, he'll turn you into a ... a ... something horrible. So get out of here now!"

  The young man didn't budge. Instead, his expression turned stubborn and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn't come all the way here to turn around and run away again."

  His words barely left his mouth before Leonie caught his pony's reins and shoved them into his hands. Rain plastered her hair to her face and her silk dress clung in freezing folds to her arms and legs. She had but two thoughts. Get the foolish prince away from the magician, and go change her clothes. A clap of thunder deafened her, and she shouted to be heard over the storm. “Leaving is just what you're going to do."

  "Never!” he shouted. “I have to find my brother. Is he here? Has Sir Wulfe brought him back from wherever he sent him?"

  Leonie felt a stab of pain at his words. She shook her head. “No, he's not here. I don't dare ask about him anymore. Every time I do, he flies into an awful rage. Please leave now, I beg you."

  "Where is Renaldo then?"

  "I don't know.” She faltered and looked in fright at the castle. “Please, you must believe me. Your brother is safe, I'm sure. Sir Wulfe would not dare harm him. But he is far away, and I don't know where he is. Now, leave, I beg you."

  The prince wiped rain out of his eyes and said, “Sir Wulfe turned your father into a snake."

  "I know, I was there. How do you know that? Have you been to Castle Veil? Where is Ann?"

  "She stayed at home to take over your father's tasks. She's tending to the villages in the area and doing a good job. She's managed to cast a few spells and she makes excellent muffins. I came to rescue you and to find Renaldo, and I won't leave until I've done that."

  Leonie took a step backward. Her thoughts flew like leaves in a storm. “How is my father?” she said, taking another step back. Her foot splashed in a puddle. And at that moment she heard the front door open. Without hesitation or turning to look, she darted into the nearest bush, thankful for the storm that bent the trees, and rain that obscured the view.

  "What do you want, young man?"

  Prince Sylvain, startled, whirled at Sir Wulfe's loud voice. He hesitated, then said, “I seek lodging for the night. I was passing this way and got caught in the storm. Your castle was nearby, so I turned this way."

  "I can hardly turn you away in this storm,” the wizard said dryly.

  "Your hospitality is much appreciated.” Prince Sylvain pointed toward his mount. “Where may I put my horses?"

  "The stables are around the back. You'll find spare stalls and hay in the loft."

  "Thank you, sir. I can sleep in the stables, they will be dry and fine enough shelter for me."

  Sir Wulfe frowned. “That won't be necessary. Dinner is in one hour. The butler will show you to a room and draw you a bath first so that you may warm up and get into dry things."

  "Your kindness is much appreciated.” Prince Sylvain took the horses’ reins, leading them around the corner of the house without a glance in Leonie's direction. Leonie huddled in the bushes until the front door closed, then she crept up the stairs and leaned against it, listening carefully. When she was sure no one was in the hall, she eased the door open and slipped inside. Then she hurried up the stairs.

  The silk clung to her, and she had to struggle to pull her dress off. By the time she got changed, she was shaking with chills. She looked for a warm shawl, but all she had were gowns. They were beautiful, but made of delicate silks or satins, and none kept her warm. It had occurred to her that Sir Wulfe gave her these flimsy clothes to discourage her from running away. She would freeze to death outside before a single day passed.

  Shivering, she huddled by her fireplace, adding more logs until she finally felt the heat of the flames. Before she was completely thawed out, the dinner bell rang.

  Sir Wulfe hated tardiness. He'd told her sternly that he would not tolerate it. Perversely, she began showing up late. He didn't say another word about it. The last time she showed up late for dinner, he'd simply locked her in her room for three days. She missed her father's way of punishing her. At least being changed into an animal was instructive and never boring. Being locked in a room without books or music nearly drove her out of her mind. Now she was careful to get to the dining room on time.

  She arrived at the same time as Sir Wulfe. He bowed. She curtsied. Then she took her place, to his right. A third place had been set directly across the table from her. Prince Sylvain arrived, his hair still damp, but dressed in a clean, dry tunic.

  "Sorry, I didn't catch your name,” said Sir Wulfe to his guest, motioning to the servant to pour some wine.

  "My name is Sylvain and I'm a horse dealer and riding instructor,” he said, quaffing his wine. “What a fine castle you have, Sir. I'm afraid I didn't get your name either.” He smiled brightly. “Or that of your lovely daughter."

  Sir Wulfe choked on his wine, and Leonie held her breath, waiting for him to change Sylvain into a mouse for his impertinence. But he simply cleared his throat and said, “I am Sir Wulfe, wizard to the king of this country. The young woman is my betrothed, the Lady Leonie."

  Sylvain feigned confusion, but Leonie saw the spark of mischief in his eyes. Now what was he up to?

  "How awkward of me. Please accept my apologies. I have been known to speak before thinking.” He smiled disarmingly.

  Sir Wulf
e scowled at the prince, but said civilly enough, “No harm done.” He turned to the waiter and said sharply, “Can we be served now? I have been out all day and I'm famished.” The waiter bowed and hurried toward the kitchens.

  "So, what sort of work do you do as a magician? I've always been curious, but never had the chance to speak to one face to face,” Sylvain added.

  "Haven't you ever been ill?” Sir Wulfe asked.

  "Rarely. And when I am ill, I take large doses of dandelion tea. I find it helps me get back on my feet in no time. Besides, there are villages, as you must know, that don't take kindly to magicians. I'm afraid I was raised in one of those backwoods places.” He spoke blithely.

  Sir Wulfe frowned. “You don't speak in the manner of a peasant."

  "Quite right, sir. My mother married beneath her, as she never let my poor father forget. She insisted we be tutored by sages. My brother and I were the laughingstock of our village. I left as soon as I could.” The incorrigible prince shrugged. Leonie's admiration grew for the young man, but she still feared Sir Wulfe's wrath if he ever discovered the prince's deception.

  But Sir Wulfe seemed to believe the prince, for he launched into a detailed account of what a wizard did. Leonie, who knew it all by heart, being the daughter of a magician, turned her thoughts elsewhere. She couldn't help wondering about her sister. She missed her terribly.

  "Excuse me?” Leonie blinked. Sir Wulfe was staring at her and he looked quite cross.

  "I said, magicians were the most important servants in the kingdom, don't you agree?"

  Leonie hated questions; even simple ones like this one were fraught with hidden meaning. Was a wizard important? Yes, of course, but to say that they were the most important was ... diplomatic, she decided, catching Sir Wulfe's irritated stare.

  "Why, yes, of course they are,” she stammered, wringing her hands in her lap.