The Salamander Spell

by E. D. Baker

It was late in the day when Grassina returned to the island and found Haywood there with dinner waiting. This time he’d found enough meat and edible roots to make a stew. Grassina had found a handful of scraggly wild onions.

  “How did you find all this food?” she asked as she accepted a hollowed-out gourd filled with stew.

  “Magic!” Haywood said with a wink.

  Grassina shrugged. “So don’t tell me.” She wasn’t about to pester him into telling her, not when she already planned to find out for herself. “But I have another question for you. I’ve been finding burned spots like a baby dragon might make. And I found werewolf prints near the enchanted forest, but that was before I came here to live. Have you seen any sign of either one?”

  Haywood bent over the pot on the fire, stirring the little bit of stew that remained. “Can’t say that I have,” he said without looking up.

  “Good,” said Grassina. “Just let me know if you do.”

  Once again, Grassina was too tired to work on her shelter, but this time, she had another reason to go to bed early. While Haywood was banking the fire for the night, she found Pippa soaking up the last bit of heat from a sun-warmed rock on the other side of the island. “Would you wake me before Haywood leaves tomorrow morning?” she asked the snake. “You could get me up when you get up.”

  “If you really want me to,” said Pippa.

  “I do,” Grassina said. “But we have to be quiet about it. I want to follow him without him knowing it.”

  “I get it. You want to sspy on him. And you should, too. I bet there’ss something he issn’t telling you that you really should know.” The little snake reared her head. “Maybe your mother ssent him to sspy on you!”

  “He was here before I was, remember? He couldn’t have been sent to spy on me before I even decided to come here.”

  “Well, there iss that . . . ,” said the snake.

  “Did you say something?” Haywood asked, coming up behind her.

  Pippa slithered off into the tall grass as Grassina turned to face him. “No, I was just talking to myself.”

  “You do that a lot.”

  “I do not!”

  “Yes, you do. I’ve seen you when you didn’t know I was looking. You do it all the time.”

  “You do spy on me!”

  Haywood blushed and looked away. “I wouldn’t call it spying. I just like to look at you. I think you’re beautiful.”

  Grassina felt heat creep up her neck and across her cheeks. “People usually call my sister beautiful, not me. Please don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  “I don’t,” Haywood said, shaking his head vehemently. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Then I thank you for the compliment,” Grassina said, feeling her cheeks flame. Although her father had often told her that she was pretty, no one else ever had. She had always assumed that her father had said it because he was her father.

  A bat darted between them, catching an insect, then zigzagging away. “It’s getting dark,” Haywood said into the uncomfortable silence.

  Grassina nodded and turned toward the lean-to. She was suddenly aware of him in a way she hadn’t been before. The feeling stayed with her as she wrapped herself in her own now-dry blanket under the lean-to and closed her eyes. Hayward was good-looking in a sweet and wholesome way. His tousled brown hair was getting lighter from the sun and was now the color of drying hay. His eyes, so angry at first, were friendly, and the crinkles in the corners made him seem that much nicer. She had believed him when he’d said he was telling the truth simply because she didn’t think he was capable of lying. Tired as she was, it took her a long time to fall asleep that night.

  It was still dark out when Grassina felt something brush her cheek. The feather-light touch came again, and she opened her eyes. In the radiance of the nearly full moon she could just make out Pippa’s slight form only inches away, flicking her tongue at her. Startled, Grassina jerked her head back, thumping it on one of the support posts.

  “You ssaid you wanted me to wake you,” said the snake.

  Grassina cleared her throat, careful to be quiet so she wouldn’t wake Haywood. “Thanks,” she said. “What time is it anyway?”

  “I’m a ssnake. Do you really think I can tell time? That lasst mole I ate didn’t agree with me. I’ve had indigesstion ever ssince I sswallowed it. I think it musst have gone bad. Well-behaved moless never give me problemss like thiss.”

  Grassina glanced up at the moon to check its position in the sky. “Will you look at that! It can’t be later than five o’clock. I wonder why Haywood gets up so early.”

  “He doessn’t. I did becausse my sstomach hurtss. Can I help it if I couldn’t ssleep any longer? You ssaid you wanted me to wake you when I got up. That boy will probably ssleep for a while yet.”

  “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “Go back to ssleep?”

  “Will you wake me again?”

  “Why, wassn’t once enough for you?”

  “But I . . . But you . . .”

  “Now that I’m awake, I have thingss to do. Nestss to raid. Mice to catch. Maybe a nice tender mousseling will make my sstomach feel better.”

  “If I go back to sleep, I’ll probably miss him again.”

  “You probably will, the way your luck iss going now. I guesss you should sstay awake,” said the snake, and she disappeared into the underbrush.

  Squirming around so that she was almost sitting, Grassina propped herself on her elbows. She couldn’t sit up all the way because it wouldn’t do for Haywood to wake and see that she was awake as well, not if she wanted to keep it a secret.

  Something plopped into the water just beyond the last plum tree. A tiny creature squeaked in the grasp of a night predator. Grassina pulled the blanket up to her chin and watched the stars through the shifting branches overhead. She thought about the tapestry that had hung on the wall of her mother’s chamber for as long as she could remember. The tapestry had shown her mother as a young woman standing on one of the castle’s towers. It was night, and the stars were actually twinkling, just like the ones in the sky were now. Her mother had called it the Green Witch Tapestry and said that she had received it when she became the Green Witch. She never would tell Grassina any details, just that it had appeared in her room the night her own mother had died. The tapestry had disappeared when the curse changed Olivene, and no one had seen it since.

  Grassina was still thinking about the tapestry when she heard Haywood begin to stir. She remained motionless while he crawled out from under the lean-to and made soft noises by the fire pit. When she finally opened her eyes, he wasn’t on the path she always took; he was going in the opposite direction on a path she hadn’t known existed and had the wooden chest tucked under his arm.

  Watching from among the plum trees, Grassina saw him follow a convoluted set of twists and turns. She couldn’t understand how he knew where to place his feet with such apparent confidence until she reached the head of the path. Two parallel rows of fireflies sat facing each other across a span of a foot or so on what she would have sworn was quicksand, lighting the way in an on-again, off-again pattern. If she hadn’t seen Haywood place his feet exactly there, she never would have thought it safe enough to try. Grassina’s steps were tentative at first, but when she found firm ground beneath the top layer of mud and water, she began to walk with more confidence.

  The sun rose, banishing the fireflies and replacing them with thick-bodied black beetles, lined up like dots of ink splattered across one of her father’s parchments. When the water-laden sand thickened around her like curdled milk, supporting straggly plants and not much else on its more solid-looking clumps, bright yellow butterflies fanned their wings on the only tufts that could hold her weight.

  Grassina glanced up to see Haywood step onto dry land and hurry around a group of blue green leaved shrubs. She took the last few steps faster than was prudent, and her foot slipped into the wate
r, making her half fall, half jump to solid ground. Bunching the fabric of her skirt in her fists, she ran after Haywood, convinced that she knew his secret.

  It took her a few minutes to find him again as tall grass concealed where he knelt beside one of the larger ponds. A fat, silver-sided fish lay gasping at his feet, and another leaped out of the water as she watched.

  “So that’s it,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You can do magic!”

  Haywood turned to look at her, his face a study of flickering emotions. “How did you get here?” he asked. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I wanted to see where you went,” Grassina said. “I never guessed . . .”

  “So now you know,” he said, his voice sounding stiff and wooden. “I suppose this means I’ll never see you again.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Haywood shrugged. “If you’re like any of the girls I used to know, you’ll be afraid of me. If you’re like my father, you’ll threaten to have me locked up for the rest of my ‘miserable’ life.”

  Grassina was horrified. “Is that why you ran away? And they acted like that just because you can do magic? I can’t see how anyone who knew you would ever think that you would hurt anyone, and to say that you—”

  An incredulous look crept across Haywood’s face. “You mean you aren’t afraid of me? I thought you of all people would . . . I mean, with a mother like yours . . .”

  “You know who my mother is?”

  “I know she’s a witch who threatened to turn you into things if you didn’t do what she wanted. That’s enough to make anyone afraid of magic.”

  “How do you know she did that? I never mentioned anything about it.”

  “I told you, I’ve heard you talking to yourself. I’ve been living in the swamp for a few weeks now. The first time I saw you, you were holding a toad. I heard you say that you needed a toad with seven warts for your mother. And then you came looking for blackbird eggshells. Both times you talked about what your mother would do if you didn’t bring her what she wanted.”

  Grassina’s hand flew to her heart. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who helped me, not the Swamp Fairy! I saw what you could do with insects and fish. I suppose toads and birds wouldn’t be very different.”

  Haywood shrugged and shifted the wooden box to his other arm. “I can do only simple magic—the most basic kind that even the least gifted fey can do, like turn flax into gold and make ants separate peas from lentils. I’ve tried to do more involved spells, but I can get them to work only partway before they fizzle out. So far, I haven’t been able to control any animal bigger than a cat.”

  “At least you can do some kind of magic!” said Grassina. “Even small magic is better than nothing.”

  “Small magic, huh? I suppose that’s an appropriate name for it. I haven’t given up on doing the bigger magic, though. I was trying to come up with a bigger, better spell when my sister and her friend walked in on me. I lost my concentration, and there was an accident that set the stable on fire. They couldn’t wait to tell my father their version of what had happened. He never gave me a chance to explain.”

  “But I thought people respected magic users. The Green Witch . . .”

  “. . . is well respected. I know. And, because of her, so are most of the women who do magic. But men are different. How often do you hear about a good wizard? They’re out there, but it’s very rare to hear about the good they’ve done. People would rather talk about the ones who misuse their magic, which makes it seem as if they all do.”

  “You’re a good person. Surely your father could see . . .”

  “My father didn’t know me well enough to see anything. I was the fifth of seven brothers and three sisters and had never been his favorite, probably because I didn’t fit into his plans. Unlike my brothers, I didn’t want to be a knight or a member of the clergy. I practiced with the sword and lance when Father demanded it, but everyone knew I preferred my books. My mother had given me an illustrated bestiary shortly before she died birthing my youngest sister. The book showed every magical creature known to man. I thought they were fascinating and spent all my spare time learning everything I could about magical beasts. When my father found out, he took my books away and ordered me to practice swordplay with my brothers. I disarmed the two eldest, which seemed to anger the rest. Father didn’t say a word when they all took me on at once, fresh and eager to fight while I was too tired to hold up my sword.”

  “That’s awful!” said Grassina.

  Haywood shrugged. “It wasn’t that unusual in our family. My father often turned a blind eye when it suited him. Last year, I discovered that I had some small talent for magic, so I went off by myself whenever I could, hoping that I’d become good enough to make him proud of me. But it was already easy for him to think the worst of me, so he believed my sister when she accused me of purposely setting the stable on fire. You have known me only a short time, yet you’ve seen me more clearly than he ever did.”

  “Weren’t you able to save any of your books? Oh!” said Grassina. “Is that what you keep inside that wooden box? You take it with you everywhere you go, but I’ve never seen you open it. Is it the book your mother gave you? If it is, I’d love to see it. I think that book sounds fascinating.”

  Haywood glanced down at the box. “It’s not a book. It’s something else. . . . Something too dangerous to open when anyone else is around. I keep it with me in case of an emergency and so no one will try to open it and get hurt. Now I have a question for you. I know you have a pet snake. Don’t deny it,” he said when Grassina opened her mouth to speak. “It’s left trails all over the island. And I’ve seen you wearing it on your wrist like a bracelet. Why do you keep a snake like that? You’re the first girl I’ve ever met who actually likes snakes.”

  “I don’t like all snakes, just Pippa,” said Grassina. “I met her after my mother turned me into a rabbit. Pippa’s not a pet, either. She’s more of a friend. I’d introduce you to her now, but she’s hunting back on the island.”

  “Good,” said Haywood. “There were too many mice there before you came. They were nibbling holes in everything, and I couldn’t keep food from one day to the next.”

  “Thank you,” said Grassina.

  “For what? I should be the one thanking you. You brought the snake.”

  Grassina shook her head. “Thank you for helping me when no one else would. I hate to think what I’d be doing now if I’d stayed with my mother and sister.”

  “In that case, you’re welcome,” said Haywood. “Although to tell the truth, having you here has been the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Thirteen

  Later that night, Grassina sought out Pippa and suggested that the little snake meet Haywood. “No,” said Pippa. “I heard you talking about hiss magic. If he’ss a wizard, he might put me in a cage like Mudine’ss.”

  “But I won’t let him,” said Grassina as she carried the little snake toward the campfire where Haywood waited.

  “Make him promisse that he won’t,” said Pippa. “Tell him how horrible it iss to be locked insside a little box. It makess an animal go crazy.”

  “All right,” said Grassina. “I’ll make sure he understands.”

  Haywood was watching her approach with a quizzical expression on his face. “Who are you talking to?” he asked.

  Grassina sighed. She wouldn’t have to be a translator if only he could talk to animals, too. Hiding her hand behind her back, she stepped closer to the light of the fire. “I was talking to Pippa. She doesn’t want to meet you unless you promise never to lock her in a cage.”

  Haywood smiled and shrugged. “Tell her I promise.”

  “She wants me to tell you how horrible it is.”

  “I’m sure she’s right,” he said, his smile becoming a little less bright.

  “So will you promise?” she asked.

  “I promise,” said Haywood, although he seemed distracted.
r />   “In that case,” Grassina said, bringing her hand from behind her back, “this is Pippa!”

  The little snake eyed him warily while Grassina told her about Haywood’s promise. Turning her head, Pippa whispered to Grassina, who listened, then laughed out loud. “She says she’s going to keep her eyes on you. She thought you were nice enough as a regular human, but she isn’t so sure now that she knows you’re a wizard. She says you have to be nice to me or you’ll have to answer to her.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Haywood said, looking as serious as he sounded.

  Over the next few days, Haywood and Grassina fell into a routine of chores and practice sessions in which he tried to strengthen and expand his collection of spells. Grassina told him about some of the spells that she remembered from watching Chartreuse’s lessons and was delighted when Haywood was able to work many of them.

  One day, Haywood used his own kind of magic to make a school of fish gather water grasses and weave them into a basket for Grassina. She was delighted and promptly used it to collect wild mushrooms and roots to add to their supper. When she returned from her excursion, the sky was overcast and there was a chill to the air, so she settled down to watch while Haywood tried to fashion a witches’ ball. His first few attempts to make the hovering balls of light fizzled before they’d even left his hands, but eventually he was able to produce one with a faint, wavering glow that could float on its own. Grassina was admiring it when the first fat raindrops splatted on the plum trees.

  Although Haywood and Grassina hurried to the shelter of the lean-to, the storm hit so quickly that they were both drenched before they could get inside. Within minutes, the wind was whipping the branches of the plum trees in a creaking frenzy and shearing the top off the water surrounding the island so that it mixed with the driving rain, soaking them until there wasn’t a dry scrap of clothing between them. Grassina shivered, her teeth chattering so hard that her jaw hurt. As the wind buffeted the lean-to until it swayed and shook, Haywood drew Grassina to his side and wrapped his blanket around them both.