The Rumpelgeist

by Fiona McIntosh

  Starling nodded agreeably. ‘And I am trying to earn your generosity, mistress. I long to see him.’ She wanted to spit in Grevilya’s face, but that would not be seemly for a queen, nor timely at this juncture. ‘You listen out for Lex and I’ll take care of the grimoire,’ Starling said instead. ‘Here, let me untie the key and I’ll quieten your grimoire in moments.’ She dared to flit down to where a neat bow had been tied around the key.

  ‘Don’t fuss, Starling!’ Grevilya said, swatting the sprite away. ‘Here, take the key. I don’t want to hear another peep out of the book or you.’

  Starling turned away so Grevilya couldn’t see her smile.

  26

  Little Thom waited quietly inside Grevilya’s private chamber. As far as he could tell, it was the most luxurious room in the house. He could smell a trace of old perfume and a mellow lavender potpourri. Clothes spilled out of a large wardrobe and were hung on various hooks around the room. Clearly Grevilya liked dressing her fine figure in the best of garments.

  The room had two big sash windows, through which Little Thom could see out to the moors and to the cliff edge. Beyond and beneath the fading light of fast approaching night, the sea was already a darkly glittering mirror. Silver Wind was out there. He hoped Bitter Olof would learn he was inside the house and that, with luck, he would soon have the grimoire in his hands. He moved stealthily to one of the windows and opened it.

  As he did so, he heard a low moan from inside the room. Little Thom blinked, unsure what the sound was. Leaning forward he stared at the cabinet where Starling had said the grimoire was housed. As he did so, the moan turned into a groan. He pulled his head back, feeling instantly anxious. The wretched spellbook was waking up.

  He was just beginning to wonder whether it was worth smashing open the cabinet, grabbing the book and making a dash for it when the door was pushed open with a soft creak. Little Thom held his breath. It was Starling and she held a key. The giant felt himself sag with relief. Starling put a finger to her lips.

  Little Thom pointed to the cabinet. ‘What if it screams?’ he whispered.

  ‘It only wails if someone tries to steal it,’ Starling responded. ‘But it won’t know it’s being stolen if you have the key to the lock,’ Starling said, handing it to him.

  ‘I already heard it groaning,’ Little Thom murmured.

  Starling flew close to his ear. ‘It’s just the grimoire dreaming, practising her spells, stretching, that sort of thing. She’s not worried yet, trust me.’

  ‘Bitter Olof and Calico Grace say it talks a lot, too.’

  ‘Incessantly, but only when it senses light. You must keep it covered and then it is like a bird at night, silent unless it feels threatened. Just don’t give the book any reason to feel unsafe,’ Starling advised.

  ‘Sounds tricky,’ Little Thom said, anxiously.

  ‘Nothing worth having is ever easy to attain. And this is worth having. It’s Grevilya’s lifetime’s work. She is nothing without it,’ Starling told him.

  Little Thom looked around for something to cover the grimoire. He pointed at a cushion and Starling understood. She flew to the bed and removed its dark silken covering.

  ‘Be very quiet and step lightly,’ she instructed. ‘Tread only where I point. I know every creak in this room after years of being cooped up in it with Grevilya.’

  Little Thom took a deep breath before signalling to Starling that he was ready.

  ‘Silent as a mouse,’ she reiterated and then smiled, ‘or as a sprite,’ she added, touching his shoulder reassuringly.

  Starling flew low to the ground and pointed. Little Thom carefully set his foot down. She nodded, and then held up a hand to tell him to wait. He understood and remained still until she pointed again, this time to the side, and he moved his other foot ahead of its companion. So far, so good. She was judging his stride well. Starling looked up, awaiting his signal. He gave a small wink and she grinned before flying on and pointing. As Little Thom lifted his first foot to move it into place, she flapped her hands and shook her head, looking both terrified and embarrassed. He paused, one foot in the air, balancing precariously.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I got muddled.’ She flew back down, pointed again.

  He planted his foot where she told him. The boards remained silent and he let out a sigh of relief.

  Starling urged him to take one large final step right up to the cabinet. They shared a triumphant glance.

  The sprite queen flew up to Little Thom’s ear. ‘Don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to start singing,’ she whispered. ‘I might even utter some gibberish. The book trusts me now and is used to my voice and my mutterings. Handle her gently. Grevilya often strokes the grimoire’s velvet cover; you must do the same to reassure her.’

  He nodded. Starling made the motion of turning a key and gave him a smile of encouragement. Little Thom gently turned the key in the lock, his face creased with worry. The lock sprang open and the grimoire uttered a soft shriek, but quietened immediately, as though waiting to see whether she was to be stroked or opened, written in or simply read from. Starling began to sing a lullaby and the grimoire sighed softly to itself.

  Little Thom carefully lifted the lid of the cabinet. Inside was a large, somewhat tattered book. It was covered with velvet in a deep purple like the colour of the night sky. He reached in and stroked the cover while Starling continued to sing.

  At Starling’s signal, Thom gently placed the silk pillowslip on top and cautiously lifted the book from the cabinet, squinting against the creak or squeak or groan he half expected it to make. Instead, he heard what sounded like a child, yawning and stirring in its sleep. He prayed to Lo that the darkness within the silk he now placed it into would trick it.

  It sighed to itself. He heard it beginning to say a nonsense rhyme and then it seemed to drift off. Starling hummed her tunes and nodded to him to continue.

  Once again, Little Thom began his strange wooden-like stepping back to the window, but this time he held the book levelly out in front of him, stroking it constantly. Just as he was beginning to feel confident, his boot caught on the corner of a rug and he stumbled slightly. He jarred to a halt, holding his breath. but the damage was done. The book erupted awake, screaming ferociously, shattering the silence.

  ‘Put it back!’ Starling shrieked in his ear.

  ‘We can make it if –’

  She twittered angrily in front of him. ‘Too late, she’s awakened and frightened. Run to your room. Wren and I will think of something.’

  The book’s wails intensified until Little Thom had no choice but to return the book to its chest, watch angrily as Starling locked it back in and then waved frantically at him to flee. The book immediately quietened and as Starling began to sing to it, its whole tone changed to a low moan as it listened to the lullaby and the sprite queen’s gentle, pretty voice.

  He’d only just made it back to his chamber in time to flop on the bed before there was a knock on his door.

  It was not Salma as he’d expected. Instead a tall, hollow-looking man with a sombre expression opened the door and entered the room. He was handsome in a neat, spare way and his movements were as economical as his words.

  ‘Mistress Greenleaf, thank you for your patience. I am Simeon and I’ve come to fetch you to meet Grevilya. She awaits you in the drawing room.’

  Little Thom pretended to yawn. ‘Oh, forgive me, I must have dozed off.’

  The man didn’t appear to care. He smiled vacantly and gestured for Little Thom to follow, which he obediently did, checking the mirror as he passed that his wig had not slipped in the terror of being caught. The woman staring back at him looked haunted. He must control his features better!

  The man led him downstairs and into a room where, turning to face him, was the most breathtaking woman he had ever seen. Her long, golden hair cascaded unfettered down her back to her girdle that cinched her tiny waist and hung low around the sweep of her hips. Her eyes sparkled and he couldn’t te
ll what colour they were – dark green perhaps, but then again were they a rich brown? Her lips were full and stretched into a warm smile. A dazzling jewel sparkled at her throat, drawing attention to her long, slim neck. She was poised and elegant in the way she held out both hands to him in what seemed genuine welcome.

  All he could think about was that this was how Grace had once looked and he finally understood why Bitter Olof was fighting so hard to get back the woman he adored. There was no getting away from it: Grace was astonishingly beautiful.

  He realised she had said something and he hadn’t responded.

  ‘Pardon?’

  Grevilya laughed, using Grace’s smile and voice. ‘I simply welcomed you to my home, Mistress Greenleaf,’ she said.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Little Thom continued, his voice now akin to a squeak.

  He hated himself. And standing by all oily and obsequious was Simeon, the forked-tongue creature, smiling malevolently at his discomfort.

  ‘Oh don’t apologise,’ Simeon said smoothly. ‘This is how most people react to Grevilya – woman … or man,’ he said, emphasising the last word.

  Little Thom was sure he had not been found out but Simeon was beginning to unnerve him.

  ‘I am delighted to meet you,’ he said and tried for a curtsey, which he was sure he executed well enough.

  ‘Grevilya, with your permission, I will leave you to discuss Mistress Greenleaf’s request while I attend to that other errand,’ Simeon said.

  Grevilya’s voice was deep and husky, full of laughter and kindness. ‘Yes, leave us ladies in peace, Simeon,’ she said conspiratorially, winking at Little Thom. ‘What we have to discuss is strictly women’s business,’ she said in a shooing tone, flicking a hand at Simeon.

  It was meant to be amusing but Little Thom couldn’t find anything but an awkward smile that he worried must have looked more like a grimace. He hated Grevilya for stealing Grace’s looks.

  ‘Are you all right, Mistress Greenleaf? You look a bit peaky.’

  ‘Peaky?’ he queried, despairing of his horrible voice.

  ‘Here, I’ve organised some refreshment. That should make you feel brighter. I’m sorry we kept you waiting.’

  ‘I’ve waited a long time to meet you.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  Little Thom nodded, not trusting himself to say any more.

  ‘In that case let’s not let another moment pass. Come,’ she said, taking his beefy hand and leading him to some chairs. She sat and patted the cushion next to her. ‘Sit by me and tell me everything.’ She took it upon herself to pour him a teacup of the flowery-smelling infusion.

  Little Thom obeyed and sat alongside Grevilya, wishing her perfume wasn’t so intoxicating or her eyes and smile so alluring. He blinked.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said, handing him his cup. ‘This I believe is what you seek. I have conjured it into a sweet-tasting tea. Don’t be shy, Lara. May I call you, Lara?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ he croaked, taking the teacup with difficulty into his enormous hands that no longer had hair, or knuckles that stuck out. He missed that. But they still appeared huge.

  She waited while he stared at the cup of tea, terrified.

  ‘Are you not going to drink your potion, Lara?’ said Grevilya, her voice like velvet but with just a hint of impatience creeping through. ‘I’m surprised you don’t greedily swallow it!’

  ‘I’m savouring the moment,’ Little Thom replied with a meek smile. ‘I have wanted this for so long that I can barely believe I’m here, holding the potion in my hands.’

  ‘A potion that will change you for ever into a beautiful woman.’

  He felt sick. ‘Do I have enough money?’ He began to reach for his purse, playing desperately for time, hoping for something to save him.

  She laughed. ‘More than adequate. But come on now, I want to see my magic do its work.’

  ‘Can it be reversed?’ he asked, trying to sound intrigued rather than desperate.

  Grevilya blinked. ‘Why would you wonder about that?’

  He shrugged his big shoulders. ‘What if being beautiful spoils who I truly am?’ he bleated. It sounded pathetic even to him.

  ‘Why would it?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. It might change my attitudes, how I see myself, how I behave, how I treat others.’ He was grasping and it felt very dangerous.

  ‘It can only change you for the better, surely? But then why would you have made this big journey, invested so much to convince me of your need, only to back out at this last moment?’

  ‘I’m not backing out,’ he began slowly. ‘I’m simply considering my position.’

  The witch gave him an arched look of pity. ‘Lara. Look at me.’ He did. ‘Don’t you want this?’ she said, pointing to her beautiful but stolen face.

  ‘Oh, I do, I do,’ Little Thom lied in a whine, placing the cup back, hoping against hope for a way out of this. ‘I’m just wondering exactly how I will appear.’ That was a better argument he told himself, masking his fear as best he could.

  She grinned at him. ‘It knows whoever the man you love is – in your case this would be Duke Foxton – and it re-makes you in the image of his perfect woman. How exquisitely clever is that?’

  Little Thom wasn’t paying attention; his mind was racing to how he might escape swallowing the contents and if there was a way to do so. ‘Is that so?’ he said, distractedly. ‘Yes, indeed, how very devious,’ he muttered.

  ‘Then drink the potion and become the woman your beloved man dreams of. If you don’t, you’re going to lose him.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, thinking about his beloved friend, for whom he was taking this punishment. I’m going to kill you, Bitter Olof, for this, were his thoughts.

  ‘There is a counter-spell,’ Grevilya admitted with a sigh, as though losing interest. ‘But I can’t imagine why anyone would want to use it.’

  ‘And what does it do?’ Little Thom asked, his heart feeling as though it had leapt out of his chest, while he tried not to sound overly eager.

  ‘It returns you to this,’ she said, offhandedly waving at him. ‘All your beauty would fade instantly and it could never be repeated, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Perhaps I should take some of that counter spell potion with me … er, just in case.’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t think you really want my magic and that’s making me suspicious of you, Mistress Greenleaf.’

  ‘Oh, no, please, don’t be,’ Little Thom begged in his unusually high voice. ‘I’m just nervous,’ he tittered, ‘that’s all.’ He reached again for the wretched teacup to show his intention.

  ‘Besides,’ Grevilya said, leaving the sofa to move towards the window and look out into the darkening sky. ‘The anti-spell is not mine to grant you.’

  He paused with the cup halfway to his lips. ‘Oh?’

  ‘No. Magic in our world must be balanced.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ he asked sweetly, buying himself just a few more moments to consider his tricky situation.

  ‘It means, rather sadly, that I cannot make and undo all the spells of my choosing. If I make a spell, then someone else has the magic to counter spell it, to ensure all the power is not invested in one.’

  ‘How cunning the world is,’ Little Thom said with a squeak, wondering now about the children. If what she said was correct then she definitely had no intention or ability to change them back. It was her magic that had to be destroyed. They needed that grimoire!

  Grevilya returned her attention to outside; she was obviously looking for someone, he realised. She seemed distracted. He was tempted to just tip the potion on the floor and claim it was an accident but she wasn’t as distracted as he’d hoped.

  ‘Drink up, Mistress Greenleaf,’ she said, turning to fix him with an intense gaze. ‘I want to see the results of my clever work.’ Grevilya waited, her eyebrow arched, a silent question written across her expression.

  This was it, Little Thom realised. No more hedging, no o
ne was going to save him this trauma and the single reason he was able to lift the hated cup to his lips was the knowledge that he might restore happiness to Bitter Olof. With this final reassurance he closed his eyes and tipped the sweet-tasting contents of the cup into his mouth … and swallowed, unaware that he was being watched closely by a hidden sprite.

  Pain arrived swift and fierce and Little Thom’s last conscious thought was being aware of a commotion in the hall behind the door that Grevilya was now moving towards but he didn’t see what was beyond. His world had turned black.

  27

  ‘I still don’t know how Lex fits into all of this,’ Flynn remarked as they continued the discussion about their magical companion.

  Ellin frowned. ‘He seemed determined to get me here. When I said I would personally nurse you through the three days of observation he became agitated, anxious that I press ahead with the plan to find Grevilya. It was Lex who came up with the idea to use magic to heal. Now that I think about it he didn’t mention Grendel until it looked as though I might remain at your side.’

  ‘When he could have suggested him at the outset,’ Davren finished for her. She nodded.

  ‘Did you really say that you’d nurse me?’ Flynn asked softly, sounding surprised. He didn’t wait for Ellin’s response, perhaps sensing it might embarrass her. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. I’m glad you convinced everyone.’ He shook his head. ‘The truth is I’ve been of the opinion that Lex needed both of us.’

  Ellin lifted a shoulder. ‘He really only needed one of us, didn’t he?’

  ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Flynn remarked. His instincts nagged that Lex’s hasty disappearance felt wrong.

  ‘Anyway, he’s gone and we can’t begin to guess why,’ Ellin reassured.

  ‘But maybe we should. We should consider that Lex has gone to lengths to find you, lengths to save my life in order to coerce you and then made the effort to guide us here. Why then would he suddenly desert us?’

  The question hung in the air unanswered because a voice that Ellin clearly recognised and loved made her start with surprise and relief.