by P. A. Mason
The woman tittered and waved her hand like Gretchen had made a joke.
“Do I look like I need a love potion to get the man I want?” She unwound the scarf around her head, and her face sobered. “No. I’m here because that harlot sheared off my hair.”
As the lady folded the scarf in her lap, Gretchen circled around her to inspect her cropped golden locks. Perfect coils hung to her chin, a little shorter at the back, which suited her long neck strung with baubles.
“Can’t say I see the problem here. Looks nice if ya ask me.”
The woman thrust her chin in the air and glowered. “Of course, it looks nice. But do you know who I am? I’ve a reputation to uphold.”
Gretchen smacked her lips and shrugged.
“I’m Rapunzel, you nitwit! The Rapunzel from the Tallest Tower franchise.” She clicked her fingers. “You know… ‘A retreat among the clouds. Leave your troubles at the door’? You get it? Because there is no door?”
“Those swanky hotels?” Gretchen nodded slowly. “I’ve seen the posters. You're the one with her hair hanging out the window?”
“I am the brand of the empire. If I turn up to that party with my hair looking like this, I’ll be a laughingstock!”
“I see.” Gretchen rubbed her chin. “And ah, this ‘harlot’ is?”
“Little upstart from up north,” Rapunzel sneered. “Trying to sell spa packages in those stinking swamps she calls ‘clay pools’. Fiona’s her name. I mean, who would look to an ogre for beauty treatments?”
“I’ve heard a good mud bath does wonders for the skin. Of course, it was never popular when I was a youngster—” Gretchen clicked her teeth shut at Rapunzel’s glare and thrummed the table with her fingers.
“Can you make a hair potion or not?”
“Well,” Gretchen’s eyes boggled as she remembered her potion over the fire and grabbed a pair of tongs to lift it clear. “I have plenty of hair potions in my kit, but probably not the kind you're looking for.”
“I’ll take anything. Please, you have to help me.”
Gretchen prodded her potion with a spoon and poured the goopy liquid into a waiting jar. After setting the cauldron in the sink, she crossed to Rapunzel and yanked a few strands of hair from her scalp.
“Hey!” She put a hand to her head with a wince.
“I presume you want to grow more of that hair and not an impressive rug on you back, hm?” Gretchen grabbed a clean cauldron and clucked her tongue at the dimming light outside her kitchen window. At the rate she was going, she wouldn’t see her bed this side of midnight, and they hadn’t even settled on a price yet.
“This will take a few hours to get right. Best you stop by in the morning to pick it up. And for these kinds of unplanned commissions, I expect twenty gold coins.”
Rapunzel drew a sharp breath through her nose. “That’s extortion! If you expect repeat business after taking advantage of a girl who’s clearly over a barrel, you’re out of your mind.”
“I doubt there would be any repeat business. If I’m going to forgo a decent night’s sleep before the pumpkin competition, you can be damn sure I’ll make it worth my while.” She rubbed the strands of hair between her fingers and thumb and quirked an eyebrow. “So, what’ll it be?”
“A pumpkin what?” Rapunzel screwed up her dainty features. “Growing oversized vegetables is more important to you than garnering a high-profile customer? For what? Do you get a smoked ham or something if you win?”
“Nah. Just a crappy ribbon and the satisfaction of wiping that smug look from that Mildred’s face. A whole year’s worth of gloating. Of course, I can’t be awful to her until after she hands out her pumpkin pies, those things are amazing, but next time she gives me the side eye at the market—”
“Enough.” Rapunzel held up her hand. “You’re right. There would have been no repeat business. I’m not sure I could have stood the banter. But I can't be seen in public like this. I will wait in my carriage until it is ready.”
She tugged her fur-trimmed cloak close as she swept out of the kitchen and into the dusk. Gretchen harrumphed and set to work gathering what she’d need to put the potion together. Grumbling as she measured powdered antler, she lamented wasting the de-hair potion on Ewan. It would have served that chit right if she got to the baron’s party as bald as an egg. After adding the ingredients carefully, she pulled out one last bottle with care. Just a single drop, any more would—
The explosion blasted Gretchen to her rump, and she sat on the flagstone floor spluttering as a noxious cloud of smoke rose from the cauldron. She should have expected the girl would have all kinds of oils and waxes in her hair to make it shine like that. She picked herself up cursing and marched out to her yard to get another sample.
“More?” Rapunzel recoiled into her plush carriage seat and held a hand to her chest. “At this rate I’ll have none left.”
“You’re lucky I don’t insist on dousing it with alcohol first.” Gretchen rubbed a hand over her singed eyebrows. “Now, are you going to do it, or shall I?”
Rapunzel fetched a purse from beside her and drew out a small pair of golden scissors.
“I don’t think so. I’ll need its roots and all.” Gretchen reached in through the window and plucked at a wisp peeking out from the scarf.
“Ouch!” Rapunzel pouted and swatted at her hand. “Had I known this would be so bothersome, I would have brought a wig instead!”
Gretchen rolled her eyes as Rapunzel drew the curtains closed, and the driver gave her an understanding shrug from his seat up front. Sighing, she turned back to her cottage.
The light had almost completely faded indoors, and Gretchen stacked more wood on the hearth and lit candles carefully stowed in glass lanterns to illuminate her workspace. She cleared the mess of the last attempt and set the cauldrons in the sink to soak. With a smothered yawn, she prepared another batch of ingredients and carefully swabbed the hair with a cloth dipped in a clear distilled fluid, which she was sure wouldn’t interfere with the potion.
When she added the final drop to the solution, she heaved a sigh of relief as it emulsified into a smooth mixture. It would do the job, and if it was particularly potent, long hair or no, she would need the services of a good hairdresser every week for the next few months. She decanted the brew into a small jar and cleaned up the mess of the afternoon’s concoctions, blinking away sleep that pulled at her eyelids. When her kitchen was back in order, she grabbed a jar from the table and shuffled out to the carriage with a shiver. The moon was high in the night sky and the horses and even the driver was snoozing despite the cold.
After scratching against the carriage door, Gretchen frowned and pushed the curtain aside to see Rapunzel curled up on the bench seat slumbering. Too tired to care, Gretchen dropped the potion beside her and hustled back inside with plans to dive into bed and catch whatever hours of sleep remained before Jurgen arrived.
Chapter 3
Gretchen took pity on the poor driver and his miserable beasts when she trod out to her garden in the morning. She fetched him a cup of tea with some toast and rustled up some carrots for the horses.
“Blessings on you, madam.” He bobbed his head in time with the horses chewing their own morsels.
Gretchen tipped her hat and marched to her pumpkin with her hands on her hips. It was the largest she’d ever managed. She was certain it was bigger than the one Mildred had carted with her last year. But Nora said Mildred’s was plumper. Unless she was just trying to wind her up. She pulled out the jar and fiddled with the stopper, weighing the probability of getting caught cheating.
Every year, she’d entered the competition. She’d tried all kinds of fertilizers. She applied every snippet of gardening lore that she’d scoured from books and old timers who claimed to have the secret sauce of vegetable production. She’d even tried tinkering with the seeds before she planted them, which had produced one of the worst results when they’d yielded bright blue pumpkins to the scorn of the other entra
nts. She just wanted to win once. Just to earn a little respect. One item ticked on the bucket list, and from there she could loll around at the fair each year eating pumpkin pie and drinking the best brewed ale.
Gretchen took a deep breath and sprinkled a spare dose over her prized produce and bit her lip as she waited for it to swell. A squeak came from the carriage behind her, and she spun to see a long leg stretch out the window, a satin slipper hanging from a toe.
“No.” Gretchen gasped and turned back to her garden where her pumpkin was already sprouting its first tufts of golden hair. She sank to her knees. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“What have you done?”
Gretchen winced at the strangled screech. She could say goodbye to her payday. And losing twenty gold coins paled in comparison to the flack she’d cop for bringing a hairy pumpkin to the fair.
The sounds of the driver scrambling to quiet the horses urged Gretchen to her feet, and as she drew close to the carriage, its door popped from its hinges. An arm waggled around, searching for purchase as a second leg squeezed through the door. The carriage itself looked like a demented crab threatening to pop its shell at any moment.
Gretchen grabbed hold of a flailing leg and pulled as hard as she could despite the hollering inside. There was no telling how big she’d get if she swallowed the whole darn potion. Trying not to tally up the revenue lost in that brew, she gritted her teeth and yanked the second leg clear of the door.
“What’s going on here?” Jurgen’s familiar growl came from around the carriage.
“Quickly. Before she busts the whole cabin!”
Rapunzel’s hips wedged in the doorframe, and Jurgen recoiled as he rounded the corner. Her dress had popped open during the ordeal and her bare rear end wiggled furiously in an attempt to slide free. Jurgen rushed in to maneuver her hips to escape the confines of the carriage. She slid out, arms overhead, and thumped to the ground in the fetal position.
“What have you done, you horrible woman? Look at me. I’m a monster!” Tears spilled over her cheeks, the carefully painted kohl running in inky streaks.
“Get something she can cover herself with.” She waved a hand at Jurgen and squatted next to Rapunzel. “You got the wrong potion. Think you have it rough? I’ve got hairy pumpkins over there.”
“Hairy what?” She sat up, her face bright red with rage. “I don’t care about your stupid pumpkins, witch! I came to you for a hair tonic, and I’m the size of a giant.”
Gretchen tapped her nose and winked. “Well, good news on that front. There’s plenty of the hair tonic left. But I’ll want restitution on account of having to shave my pumpkin before the competition.”
“This,” Rapunzel tapped Gretchen’s chest with a finger the size of a zucchini, “is your fault. You will fix this, and be thankful I don’t claim damage costs on my dress and carriage.”
Gretchen scrubbed a hand over her face, and Jurgen returned with one of her curtains. She blinked at the drapes embroidered in vines, her favorite set that had hung in her living room for as long as she could remember.
“All right. We can fix this. Jurgen, are you handy with a razor?” She pushed the curtain into Rapunzel’s arms and turned to inspect the damage in her vegetable patch. Long locks hung off the pumpkin in delicate curls. “We give it a once over now and take care of the five-o'clock shadow just before Nora officiates. If we’re lucky—”
“What about me?” Rapunzel stood with the curtain pulled around her like a towel and glowered down at her. “You can’t leave me like this.”
“It’s no problem, really.” Gretchen waved her hand. “Spell should wear off by the time your party kicks off later.”
“Should? What do you mean, should? And what about my hair?”
Gretchen squeezed her eyes shut and tossed the rest of the hair tonic into the air. When she opened them again, Rapunzel had the tiny jar to her lips.
“You can hide out here until later, and when you begin shrinking, you can head toward the baron’s estate. It’s an hour at the most. Once the magic starts waning, it won’t be long before you’re back to normal.”
Rapunzel reached down to pluck Gretchen off the ground by her collar.
“I don't think you’re listening. If you think you can pass that pumpkin off as anything other as a well-groomed abomination, you’re out of your mind. Now, get back into that kitchen and brew something to put this right, or so help me I will stomp your vegetable garden to bits.”
Rapunzel dropped her in a heap and tugged her curtain closer. Dusting herself off, Gretchen stood muttering under her breath.
“Well, that might have been possible if you hadn’t just scarfed the hair potion,” she huffed. “Anything that could cancel out the growing brew, which would take hours I don't have to prepare, would also have those curls falling out faster than you could say yippee!”
Rapunzel fondled her curls, which were snaking their way down to the ground and pursed her lips.
“Well, you’re not leaving me like this.”
“Fine.” Gretchen balled her fists at her side and swung her gaze to Jurgen. “The pumpkin goes in the carriage and Miss Uppity here can ride in the wagon.”
Jurgen shrugged and turned to the garden, while Rapunzel threw her arms up, almost losing her shroud in the process.
“A wagon? Looking like this?”
“Your choice.” Gretchen shrugged. “I’m going. If you don’t trust my word that you’ll be fit for the party, you can hear it from Nora.”
“Nora?” Rapunzel bent closer. “Is that the witch behind the baron’s infamous hexes?”
“The very same.” Gretchen clucked her tongue. “She’ll be officiating at the fair, and I’m sure she won't mind giving a second opinion. Isn’t that right, Jurgen?”
The troll hefted the pumpkin toward the carriage with a grunt. “So long as she hasn’t hit the brandy yet.”
Rapunzel narrowed her eyes and turned to her driver, who was doing his best to keep his eyes anywhere but on his scantily clad employer. Finding no reassurance, her shoulders slumped, and she hung her head.
“Fine. But you’ll find me something more… appropriate to wear.”
After arranging the pumpkin securely and lopping off what hair they could with a pair of shears, Gretchen left Jurgen to negotiate with the driver while she scoured her cottage for something more substantial for the overgrown lass. Coming up with nothing, she puffed out her cheeks and hauled out her spell book which was twitching in anticipation. She unbound its laces and tapped her toe.
“Okay, no time for games. I need a clothes solution for a giant girl, pronto.”
Gretchen blinked when the book snapped open to a page already printed with a simple spell with ingredients she kept among her stores. She kissed the hefty volume and tucked it back under the floorboards before racing back to her kitchen to prepare the charm.
Without boiling, mashing, pounding or dicing, she pressed the ingredients into a cotton pouch and tied a long length of string around it. With a quick scratch behind Mulligan’s ears, she locked her door and stepped into the morning sun, proffering the parcel to Rapunzel.
“What is this?” She held the packet up to stare at it.
“Hang it around your neck and come down here.” Gretchen beckoned with her finger.
With only a little trepidation, Rapunzel slung the string around her neck and leaned down. Gretchen reached up to clasp the packet and muttered an incantation under her breath. Wind whipped around the pair, and wisps of silver gathered around Rapunzel’s frame. She stood with a squeak and smoothed hands over the flowing folds of her glimmering gown; the curtain dropping to her feet.
“This is, well, it’s the finest dress I’ve ever seen!” She hugged her frame and did a twist to catch sight of the back. “Will this fit when I’m… normal?”
“Can’t see why not? I don’t see a size stitched in there.” Gretchen nodded to Jurgen. “Now let’s get out of here.”
“Not yet.” Rapun
zel snapped her fingers. “Peter. I’ll need my things.”
The driver scrambled to haul a trunk from the coach’s back and Rapunzel settled on the ground pawing through boxes. Gretchen screwed up her face as she watched, and Rapunzel squawked in delight as she opened a box of paints which looked ridiculous in her substantial hands.
“Do you have a looking glass?” She cocked her head. “This one’s a little small.”
“She can’t be serious,” Jurgen threw up his hands. “We don’t have time for her to get dolled up for a wagon ride.”
“You can use my floor mirror on one condition.” Gretchen rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You paint your face en route. And I want no grumbling about ruts in the road.”
Rapunzel waved a hand and tittered. “I could paint my face upside down swinging from a tree if I had to.”
Gretchen smirked at the image it conjured in her mind and turned to fetch the mirror.
“Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Chapter 4
Rapunzel was as good as her word, and when they trundled into Oakdale, she sat in the wagon bed as pretty as a picture, smiling and twirling her hair at the gawkers they passed by. The pumpkin was a different story. Gretchen had done what she could on the ride, but the hair grew thick and fast. She fancied she had enough wholesale material to make a tidy sum from a wig tailor and tied the locks into manageable bunches to stow in her pouch for safekeeping.
Had she been thinking clearly, she may have been able to stall long enough to make a magical dispel potion and scarper as soon as she’d doused her produce. But she had to play the hand dealt to her, and hope the growth slowed over the coming hours.
The fair consisted of food stalls and benches brought into the market square, with the agricultural competitions taking place in a nearby field. From the finest bulls to the softest wool, the region’s commodities were on show, and merchants from the city sauntered from pen to pen checking out the local talent. The vegetable growing competitions were something more of a novelty, and they relegated hopeful gardening enthusiasts to a narrow track of land pressed against the woodlands. Thankful at least for shade on the warm day, Gretchen stretched her arms overhead as she climbed out of the carriage.