A Charm for a Unicorn

by Jennifer Macaire

  "But if she has no wish to marry you, why force her?” Sylvain paused when he caught sight of the magician's furious glare. “Begging your pardon, sir."

  "She is a young, easily influenced maiden. She will do as I say, and everything will be fine. The two princes will meet and sign a truce ... with my urging. And the people shall acclaim me as their benefactor. The king does as I say. And when the two princes are under my power they will do my bidding as well."

  "Do your bidding?” Sylvain suddenly felt very uncomfortable. The wizard quaffed more wine; his fifth glass, Sylvain noted.

  There was an awkward pause, then, “Of course, I mean to bid them to make peace,” the wizard hastened to add.

  Sylvain kept his voice light. “Ah, I see.” But something sounded wrong in the magician's words. Or perhaps it was the crafty look that gleamed in his eyes. “Will the two princes rule together then?"

  The wizard looked at his empty glass and sighed. “How can two rulers rule at once? They would spend their time bickering, especially after they see Leonie.” He coughed and said, “I mean, they will not be able to put aside their quarrel unless there is but one ruler."

  "Will their father, the king, choose between them?” Sylvain prodded.

  "Perhaps."

  The tall, dark green candles in the center of the table sputtered and wavered as they neared the end of their wicks. The hour was late. In the doorway a servant stood, waiting for the wizard to leave before clearing the table. Outside, night had deepened and delicate arabesques of frost covered the windows.

  "Good night, sir.” Sylvain stood, intending to leave.

  "Why does she hate me so?” The magician's words stopped him in his tracks.

  Sylvain turned. “Hate you?"

  "Yes. She hates me. I felt it when she was here. She's known me for years, so why does she hate me? I would go to her father's house, sometimes just to see her. Yet she met a prince, just once did she meet him, and she closed her heart to anyone else but him."

  "A prince?” Sylvain held his breath, waiting for more information, but the magician just pounded his fist on the table, knocking over a candelabra. Melted wax spattered across the snow-white, damask tablecloth, dotting it with green.

  Sylvain blinked. Snow. Green. Spring green and winter snow. A unicorn in the forest. He lifted his gaze to the magician. “I don't think she's capable of hating anyone,” he said.

  Sir Wulfe didn't seem to hear him. “She would sit in her room looking out her window, and though her words were polite, they were laced with disdain, as if I were nothing but a wretched fool."

  "The wine has made you maudlin,” said Sylvain, righting the candelabra and setting the candlesticks back in their places. His fingers sank into the hot wax. “The tablecloth is ruined."

  "She abhors me, but it matters not. I love her. We will wed at the winter solstice, and she will become my bride."

  "Love?” Sylvain picked at a bit of wax with his fingernail. “I think you misunderstand the meaning of that word. If you loved her, you would want her to be happy, not cold and silent at your side."

  Silence, deep as a well, settled between them. Sylvain concentrated on peeling the wax off the tablecloth. The only light came from the torches set in the doorway, and from the pale moon shining through the window, so that shadows lay in tangles on the white tablecloth. Everything had two shadows, one from firelight and one from moonlight. Only the wizard had none, sitting as he was in shadow. But his eyes glittered and he stirred. “It matters not if she is happy. She will unite the kingdom. At winter solstice, everything will be in place. The princes, the king, the right people will be here ... Everyone is coming here for the wedding. And they will see Leonie."

  "Leonie,” Sylvain echoed.

  "Everything depends on you, young man. A horse trader will be a national hero here in Querel. Everyone will acclaim you, and you will be among the guests of honor at the wedding feast.” Sir Wulfe flung his arm wide, narrowly missing the wine carafe.

  "It's late. I bid you good night, sir.” Sylvain left, passing in front of the silent servant. He nodded to the man, who nodded back. The servants in Sir Wulfe's castle rarely spoke except to their master, and Sylvain was sure they were all transformations like Ann's servants had been.

  What kind of man surrounds himself with enchantments instead of real people? Sylvain wondered, as he lay in his bed in the stables, listening to the soft sounds his horses made in their stalls below him. In the back of his mind he saw a green clearing in the midst of a white, frost spangled forest. “A unicorn glade,” he breathed.

  The next day, Sylvain packed his camping gear and took both horses with him. He stopped at the castle long enough to get supplies for one week, and told Sir Wulfe's butler that he would be gone for a while.

  "Don't expect me back for at least a week,” he said to the dour man standing at the front door.

  "I shall tell Sir Wulfe, never fear."

  Sylvan rode into the forest and let his horse have its head. “Go where you wish,” he said to the animal. His horse flicked his ears, then ambled slowly along a leaf-strewn trail. Autumn was nearly over. The trees stretched bare branches to the pewter sky, and rabbits and deer wore thick coats of fur.

  Sylvain knew his horses would be pulled toward the unicorn haven. The scent of spring would come to their nostrils. A hint of fresh grass would act as a lure. Tomorrow or the next day, or even the next, his horses would catch the faint scent of springtime. They would raise their heads and their nostrils would flare. A green, eager look would come into their eyes and their steps would be lighter.

  He let the reins loose on his horse's neck and settled back in the saddle. He was glad of his warm cloak, for it was chilly and his breath made white clouds in the air. That night he built a fire, and both he and the horses huddled around it. All night long he tossed branches on the fire, keeping the cold at bay.

  When dawn came, he broke ice on a frozen stream and heated water for tea and for washing. His horses crunched on the oats in their feedbags, then when they finished, drank deeply in the stream. That was all they would get until the evening. Sylvain counted on their hunger. It would sharpen the horse's senses and lead them to the unicorn haven.

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  Chapter Twelve

  The One-Legged Prince

  "Oh, lad! Wake up!"

  Renaldo opened his eyes. They hurt. In fact, everything hurt. His whole body felt battered and sore. He didn't recognize the man bending over him, but he recognized his rank: a wizard medic, with a surgeon's vest and silver pin.

  "Am I in a hospital ward?"

  "You are.” The doctor patted him on the shoulder. “How do you feel, son?"

  "Not very well.” Renaldo tried to sit up, but he had no strength at all and his whole body ached.

  The doctor put his hand on his shoulder. “Lie still. You're safe now. This is a hospital ward, and no fighting is allowed here. You can relax. My name is Sir Yarlly, and I am in charge."

  Renaldo glanced around, but his bed lay behind drawn curtains, and he could see nothing but the ceiling. It was painted yellow, and the color cheered him up for a moment. The doctor saw his glance and nodded.

  "It's a jolly color, isn't it? This is usually the children's ward, but the war has made it hard to find free beds."

  Renaldo fingered the sheets, which were smooth linen. Even the curtains around his bed were made from butter-yellow cotton with small fairy-bears embroidered on them. He thought of his own country. The hospitals were plain, though the wizard medics competent. But a children's ward was a new idea. As soon as he got home, he'd make sure Windtide hospital had one.

  "Tell me, son, can you remember your name, and where you are from?"

  Renaldo hesitated. Should he say anything? Well, why not? “I can. My name is Renaldo and I'm from Windtide."

  The wizard didn't look surprised. He nodded. “And you're a prince, if I'm not mistaken."

  "How did you know?"

&n
bsp; "You had a mouse in your pocket. He was wet, but not drowned, and has a rather unusual talent."

  "Oh. The talking mouse. Where is he?"

  "Off in another ward. He'll be back soon, I imagine. He's quite a character and the patients are fond of him. He's taken it upon himself to be a sort of entertainer.” The wizard chuckled. “I wish there were more like him around. At any rate, he told us who you were, and how you came to be on the ship fighting. It caused quite a stir in diplomatic circles, I can assure you."

  Renaldo sighed and plucked at the covers. “I supposed messages have been sent."

  "Yes. The Crow Callers have been rather busy.” The wizard medic paused. “Your Highness, there is something I need to tell you. When you came to us, your wounds were serious."

  "How serious?"

  "Your leg, most of all, had been wounded."

  "I don't really remember.” Renaldo frowned. “I recall waking up in water, I think I floated a while. Then everything goes dark. Did I break my leg?"

  "Yes, it was broken in several places and badly lacerated. We tried very hard, but I'm afraid we were unable to save it. I'm sorry, Your Highness."

  An icy trickle ran down Renaldo's back. “What are you talking about?"

  "Your leg has been amputated just below the knee. I'm..."

  "My leg? Gone? It can't be true!” His head rang with every heart beat. “But I can feel it!” Renaldo tried to sit up again, and groped down his thigh, reaching for his leg.

  "No, it's just your brain refusing to face the truth.” The wizard medic sighed. “You were lucky, your knee is still intact and a sculptor can easily make you another leg with some strong wood when you've healed. You can learn to walk with crutches once you are restored to health."

  Eyes closed, Renaldo reached downwards. He slid his hand over his knee and met a thick bandage. The flesh beneath it felt tender, swollen, and achy. His fingers twitched, then, trembling, he reached further down. The sheet suddenly flattened and his hand met the mattress. Horror iced his blood and bones, quickly replaced by the realization that he was alive, while so many others had perished.

  Renaldo opened his eyes and stared at the medic. “How long have I been here?"

  "Almost two weeks."

  Another shock. Renaldo lay still, trying to digest everything; the loss of his leg, the fact that his identity had been found out. The doctor had said they'd informed his parents. The diplomats must have been relieved to let his mother and father know where he was. “I suppose my parents have sent an escort for me."

  "Not yet. You're to assist at the royal wedding. Your parents sent word. You will represent the kingdom of Windtide."

  "Wedding?” Renaldo echoed.

  The medic beamed. “That's right. Things are looking brighter for Querel. The two princes have agreed to meet at winter solstice and assist at the marriage of their official court magician. Everyone is praying that they will make a treaty and cease their fighting. Their father has already drawn up several different treaties for them to consider. It's the first time the princes have stopped their quarrelling and have agreed to meet.

  "Hope once more lives in our hearts, and it is rumored that the bride, a young woman from your own kingdom, is the most beautiful woman in the world. Sir Wulfe, her betrothed, is ... Why, what is it? Are you all right?"

  Renaldo felt his breath leave his chest. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes. “Leonie? No!” he cried, and in a second, the world spun out of focus and grew dark.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  The Wedding Invitation

  Prince Renaldo lay in his bed and watched the clouds through the window. No one could ease his misery. As the days passed, diplomats had tried to speak to him, jugglers had tried to amuse him, and doctors had tried to reason with him, but Renaldo ignored them. Then one day, as the wedding approached, trumpets sounded loudly in the hospital's courtyard. Renaldo closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together as the sound of footsteps pounding on the marble stairs grew louder. Another diplomat determined to cheer him up? He could care less.

  Suddenly his door flung open and the Queen's voice floated over the trumpets. “My son! My son! I'm here!"

  Renaldo pretended to be sleeping. The mouse, who'd been sitting quietly on his shoulder for the entire morning, patted his cheek with his small paw. “Your mother has arrived, your Highness."

  Renaldo opened his eyes. He saw his mother and winced. The sunlight gleamed on her diamond necklace and tiara, dazzling him. Three ladies-in-waiting, wearing bright fuchsia, yellow, and green silk dresses, crammed into the room, as well as a steward, a juggler with oranges, and a crier.

  "Prince Renaldo, your mother has come to pay you a visit!” the crier brayed, although he was not an arm's breadth away. The juggler tried to juggle, collided with the lady in green, and dropped three oranges onto the bed. Just out the window, the trumpeters redoubled their efforts. Some cymbals clashed. The mouse dove into Renaldo's collar.

  Renaldo cringed and shut his eyes again.

  "What have they done to you?” his mother cried. “Why didn't you answer the messages I sent? I have been so worried!"

  "They haven't done anything to me. They saved my life. I didn't want to send any messages, I received enough to last me a lifetime. I instructed the diplomats to keep you informed of my progress."

  "Your father is furious."

  "I imagine he is,” said Renaldo. “I told him not to leave the negotiations in Bromley under any circumstances."

  "He wasn't about to leave them,” his mother snapped. Then her face softened. “My poor darling! I'm here now. You can be comforted."

  "Can you give me some room? I don't have much balance yet.” Eyes closed, he groped for his crutches.

  "Don't move, darling, we have arranged a litter. Harold,” she said to the steward, “Go get the royal litter!"

  "I am perfectly capable of walking.” Renaldo opened his eyes and grabbed one of his crutches, trying to pull it out from under the juggler. A lady in waiting stood on the other crutch. “What are all these people doing in my room? Can't they wait until I get up?"

  "Don't be cross, darling. We're just so glad to see you."

  "Get. Out. Of. Here.” Renaldo tried to keep his voice level.

  The queen sniffed loudly. “Well, if you insist.” She clapped her hands and shooed everyone out of the room. But she stayed put. “We have to talk. I have important news for you."

  Renaldo picked his crutches up from the floor and looked at his mother. “Give me the news, then."

  "After the fête. Come along, don't keep everyone waiting."

  "Fête? What fête?” Renaldo got to his feet and tried to get his balance. He kept trying to put his missing leg down. It was frustrating.

  "The doctors said you were despondent."

  "So you came with jugglers as if I were a child to be entertained.” He paused long enough to let his mother embrace him, then, putting the crutches firmly beneath his arms, he hopped out of the room. Without stopping or looking at anyone, he made his way down the red carpet two stewards had rolled out, turned and hopped slowly out of the hospital.

  A large crowd stood at the entrance. In front of them a band played loudly, and more jugglers tossed colorful balls back and forth. As he arrived, the crowd erupted in a loud cheer. Renaldo didn't pause. He descended the staircase, shouldered his way through the crowd, and entered the small park flanking the hospital.

  The music wavered and died out, and the cheers, deafening when he stepped out of the hospital, petered away to a smattering of hesitant claps as he went into the park and disappeared around a corner.

  The mouse tickled Renaldo's ear with his whiskers. “What is the matter?"

  Renaldo sat on a marble bench and put the crutches at his foot. “The same thing that has been bothering me since I woke up here. My leg is gone, and the woman I love is about to marry an evil magician. Other than that, everything is just peachy."

 
"I just wish you'd cheer up. It's not the end of the world, after all, you only saw the girl twice."

  "I don't want to talk about it.” Renaldo put his head in his hands.

  At that moment his mother came into the park. She sat next to him on the bench and looked at him gravely. “I'm sorry. I only wanted to cheer you up, like any mother would. But you are not a child anymore, and I was amiss bringing the entertainment."

  Some of the anger he felt drained away. “That's all right. I understand. What was the news you wanted to tell me?"

  "We're going to the wedding. It's a political affair. I'm representing Bromley, and you are to represent Windtide. Sir Wulfe invited us to stay at his castle. He has offered us his hospitality."

  "Sir Wulfe? Mother, Sir Wulfe, the wizard of Querel, is the one responsible for my situation! You just told me that he transformed Windtide's only wizard and he..."

  "I know."

  "You know?” Renaldo felt as if he was caught in some sort of bad dream, where nothing made sense.

  The queen leaned over and took his hands in hers. “He sent his regrets and explained everything. Didn't you tell Sir Wulfe who you were?"

  Renaldo tried to recall that horrible night. “I don't think he gave me time,” he admitted.

  "He is the one who made sure you got the proper treatment here, and when you were missing, he was tireless in his efforts to find you. He was as surprised as anyone when you turned up fighting on a rebel ship. That took a great deal of explaining."

  "I'm sure it did,” Renaldo said dryly.

  "Our diplomats went to great lengths to make sure there wasn't a grave misunderstanding that could have led to a declaration of war.” His mother leaned back and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You have caused our country quite an embarrassment, my son."

  "I caused an embarrassment?” Renaldo sputtered.

  "Yes.” His mother's voice could have withered roses, had there been any in the garden. “First, you disappear without so much a by-your-leave. We had no idea where you'd gone. Luckily your brother found out from a local seamstress that you'd had a assignation with the magician's daughter. The wizard of Castle Veil!” She gave a bitter laugh. “As if that family hasn't done enough harm. By chance, Sir Wulfe was summoned that night by the girl's father. He says that it was a huge mix-up, and everyone acted hastily. But you're the one to blame. You and that ... that girl. She was already engaged. She should have known better. As for Sir Casper, the wizard of Castle Veil, he will regain his original form when Sir Wulfe forgives him."