"Pearl."
"Well, Pearl, let me guess. Drusilla got sent to this well for a punishment, am I right?"
"Every time her nasty old father gets Mother angry, she makes Drusilla do twice as many chores as me—and he doesn't even notice! Who needs a lazy old useless father like that?"
"You are so right, dear. Let me guess. When Drusilla came here, an old lady was waiting and she asked for a drink of water, and Drusilla was, as you put it, sugary and gave the woman water, and the woman turned into a Fae and rewarded her?"
"Every time she talks, three copper pennies come out."
Cheapskate Fae.
Bib chuckled, his voice muffled by the bag and her cloak.
"Mother hopes since Drusilla used the old copper pitcher and she got copper coins, if I used the silver pitcher, I'd get silver coins."
"I'm sorry, dear, but that is not how all the stories go. You're lucky you ran into me, an ordinary old woman ..." She slid off the lip of the well and gestured for Pearl to follow her. "With a magic book," she announced, pulling Bib out of the bag, and putting him down on the bag on the edge of the platform. "Bib, my dear friend, please tell this poor deceived child what always happens to the well-dressed stepsister who gets sent to the well after her idiot stepsister gets all the good rewards."
Pearl jumped back a step when Bib flipped himself open. Her eyes widened with wonder as the words on the pages swirled around and resolved into line drawings to illustrate his stories.
I didn't know you could do that, she thought to him.
Not to be cheeky, Mi'Lady, but you didn't ask.
Merrigan managed a smile. She wasn't ready to laugh just yet.
Bib went through three variations on the same theme—the stepsister with the father was downtrodden and abused by the stepmother, the father paid no attention, and the daughter of the stepmother followed the instructions to the letter, prepared to be polite and sweet to an old lady. But of course, the Fae changed the rules halfway through. When the Fae woman showed up dressed like a queen, the poor stepsister, confused by the change and positive that she had lost her opportunity, was in a bad mood when she offered water to the royal lady. This always resulted in something nasty happening to her, in direct contrast to what her stepsister received—snakes or toads falling from her lips, instead of the jewels and flowers her stepsister received.
"That's not fair," Pearl murmured, when Bib finished his story and flipped closed again. "Drusilla isn't that bad. I mean, yes, she can be stupid sometimes, but look at her father. I'm sure Mother would take her with us when we escape, if she didn't think the law would accuse her of kidnapping." Turning, she sat on the edge of the well platform.
"What am I going to do? Mother is packing, ready to flee on the next coach to the capitol. We shouldn't even have to leave. It's our house, but that stupid old man wasted all the money my father left us and then he sold Mother's jewels and ..." She sniffled. "And for some reason, everyone in town thinks Mother is evil and we abuse Drusilla horribly. The fact is, nothing would get done if Mother wasn't constantly reminding him and arguing down our bills with the merchants. Drusilla is just too stupid to be mean-hearted and I don't mean to be angry with her all the time, because I did like her at the beginning, but she tries my patience so!"
Merrigan was quite impressed by the girl's self-control that she didn't burst into ugly, sloppy sobs that would turn her into a red-eyed, snotty mess in minutes. Still, she knew how much comforting a fourteen-year-old needed. Especially one so level-headed and yes, generous, because she seemed to like her idiot stepsister despite her flaws. She patted Pearl on the back and put her arms around the girl and let her cry against her bosom. Just until the tears started to soak through the front of her dress.
"Is there anything valuable left in the house that you can sell quickly? Starting with that pitcher?"
"A few things. So much disappeared, so fast, but one day I caught Mother putting a few things into hiding so ..." Pearl nodded. "Yes, I think so."
"The most important thing is to leave. Get as far away from here, away from people who know you, as you possibly can. If your stepfather doesn't know about the copper pennies, then take Drusilla with you. She might as well pay her way."
"Leave a note for your stepfather," Bib said.
"Why?" Merrigan nearly shrieked. "So he can follow them?"
The important thing was to get the women away from that horrid, selfish, lazy man. The sooner Pearl and her mother got away from him, the better. It was too bad they had to take Drusilla, but if they left her behind, her father would marry a truly wicked stepmother with three ugly, cruel daughters. That was how the fables worked. They would make the poor girl talk nonstop until they were rich.
"Tell him Drusilla met a prince on the way back from the well. Make sure it's a prince from a kingdom at least a moon's travel away. Tell him Drusilla eloped, and you and your mother have gone to find a wicked enchanter to reverse the spell of the copper coins. No one will expect the three of you to be together."
"I suppose that makes sense." Pearl rubbed at her eyes. "But what if he decides to go look for Drusilla and live off her and her prince?"
Chapter Seven
"Do you think any prince will suffer a madman showing up on his doorstep, calling himself his father-in-law, and demanding to be taken care of in a style he doesn't deserve?" Merrigan said. "If he stays in the house and dies of his own laziness or goes looking for Drusilla and the prince, either way, you're free of him. All that matters is getting away. Remember the stories Bib told you, so you avoid more traps. Be kind to Drusilla, keep her out of trouble, and make her keep her mouth shut when strangers are around. You don't want anyone knowing the source of your income, do you?"
"No." The girl wiped her face on her apron, sniffed a few more times, then startled Merrigan by flinging her arms around her for a short, hard hug. "Oh, you are better than a faerie godmother! How can I ever thank you?"
"Just be happy—and move quickly." Merrigan tried not to shudder as she carefully freed herself from the girl's hug. Part of her liked it, and part of her was repulsed, and another part of her was trying to whisper that she was a fraud. Merrigan couldn't understand why she should think such a thing. Maybe the strain of the day was crumbling the edges of her mind?
Pearl thanked them again, bowing several times, and almost forgot to snatch up her silver pitcher as she hurried to leave. Merrigan stayed where the girl left her, watching and waving, urging her to move faster, until Pearl vanished into the shadows of the forest.
"Do you think she'll be all right?" She gathered up Bib and slid him back into his bag. "It's so unfair, how the clever girls, especially the daughters of stepmothers, are always accused of being nasty. Why are stepmothers always evil? Why don't we hear any stories about evil stepfathers? Doesn't anyone realize the good-hearted dunderheads who get all the magical help are also stepsisters?"
Merrigan slid the strap of Bib's bag over her head and settled it against her hip. Then she turned to walk away from the well.
And ran right into a Fae.
A woman, with jewel-toned, sculptured beauty. She was all in blues and greens, including her skin and hair, and stood at least fifteen feet tall. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she scowled down at Merrigan. One foot tapped against the pebbles of the path the same way busybody old harridans in her father's court used to when they thought they could stand in judgment on her.
"Just what did you think you were doing? Who gave you the right to interfere with Fae justice?" the woman said. Her voice rang like wind chimes made of jewels.
"Justice?" Merrigan squeaked, wobbling between infuriated and terrified.
"That young snot needed to learn a good lesson. Along with her mother."
"What lesson?" Bib called, so loud the book vibrated against Merrigan's hip.
The Fae woman scowled deeper, then snapped her fingers. Merrigan let out a shriek as the strap lifted off her shoulder and the bag flew up in the air. Bib b
ounced out of it and opened, landing in the woman's outstretched hand.
"If you would so kindly oblige, Lady," Bib said. "See what I learned from the girl."
His pages turned as if blown by a high wind. Whatever he showed the Fae woman, her scowl faded, then her lips pursed and she slowly shook her head.
"I thought something was off. The girl looked well-fed and her clothes were clean and decent and she didn't look at all afraid. She did say she was sent to the well as a punishment, though."
"It seems the people hereabouts think there's something odd about the well," Merrigan offered. The Fae woman seemed more approachable. As her scowl faded, she shrank, so now she only stood ten feet tall.
"It's been nearly thirty years since anyone has come to it. There's no chance to catch up on gossip and really know what's going on ..." She sighed and tossed Bib up in the air. He slid back into his bag, which settled gently around Merrigan's shoulders. "Still, it isn't your place to interfere. There's a balance to things. When you place a blessing, someone else gets a curse."
"So it doesn't matter that someone who doesn't deserve a curse gets one anyway? What happens to the girls who get pushed into a place where a curse lands on them, and they didn't do anything wrong? Her mother is more at fault, for marrying a worthless man with a dunderhead for a daughter. Is that fair to Pearl? Is it fair that the children of people who get cursed end up inheriting that curse? Is it fair when a king makes idiotic choices and gets himself killed and his queen can't hold onto the kingdom? Is that fair?"
"I know who you are, Princess Merrigan. Your story is written in the magic tangling you."
"Tangled is a very good word! And I'm Queen Merrigan."
"Another holds the throne, and you never produced the heir to the throne, so you are not queen mother. You are once again Princess Merrigan of Avylyn."
"That's not quite fair."
"Fair?" The Fae woman shook her head, and for a moment it looked like she might laugh. "You need to grow more before anyone can have a discussion about what 'fair' means. That's not why I'm here. The debt you need to pay is a large one. If you keep interfering in the spells and reformation of others—"
"Interfering for the sake of justice! Would it have hurt you to go look at the girls' family before you started flinging blessings and curses around? Did you hear what she said, about her stepsister and her mother? She actually likes the little idiot. Since when does that happen?"
Merrigan shrank back as the Fae woman grew taller again, doubling her original size before suddenly turning transparent and fading into the breeze. She waited a minute or two, then cautiously reached out and snatched up her cloak, to wrap it around herself.
"Bib, do you think it's safe—"
"To flee? I think it might be wise to try. Whether you'll be allowed to ... who knows?"
Merrigan deliberately retraced her steps, hoping the spell against returning would activate and yank her somewhere far away, out of the reaches of the Fae woman.
She walked down to the main road, turned right, and set her feet toward the town farthest away, according to the mile marker. If someone were fleeing from her and needed a place to hide, she would expect them to go to the nearest town.
The magic codicil against returning never took effect.
When the Fae woman appeared in the road ten steps in front of her, Merrigan suspected she was the reason why the spell didn't yank her away.
"Just because you were right this time—this time—doesn't give you the right to interfere in a process established by tradition," the Fae woman began.
"Wouldn't it use up less magic if you straightened people out while they're still children?" Bib offered. "Convince them it's better to be friends with their stepbrothers and stepsisters, that there's more profit in working with the good boys and girls."
"Hmm, that ... does sound sensible." A weary smile softened the Fae woman's face. "You're right, book. Intervening sooner in the process would certainly use less magic."
"How many downtrodden girls and boys cheated of their inheritance can you marry off to kings and princesses? There's a limit. Eventually, you'll have to kill off someone's husband or wife, or convince the royalty to have dozens of sons and daughters to marry all the good boys and girls you help, and even then there's a limit to the number of kingdoms you can parcel out."
The Fae smiled, and that smile sent shivers through Merrigan deep enough to freeze her marrow. She nodded and grew taller, until her head stretched above the treetops.
"You are a very wise book. Whatever you do, Princess Merrigan, I would advise you to hold onto that book, no matter what it costs you. Listen to him and learn from his wisdom, and ... well, there's a very slim chance, a complicated chance, that you can break free of the spell before your required hundred years end."
"A hundred years?" Merrigan yelped. "Why a hundred years?"
"It's written into the spell. As I said, there's a chance. A very slim, complicated chance. You'll have to work very hard. Hold onto the book and learn wisdom." Then the Fae woman faded into the green shadows and silence of the road.
"A hundred years?" She wobbled and thought for a moment her knees would fold and deposit her right there in the middle of the road. "Bib, why a hundred years?"
"Unfortunately ... well, it seems to be a traditional number."
"We'll see about that." Merrigan took a couple deep breaths, straightened her shoulders, stiffened her knees, and took another step down the road. "If there's a chance, no matter how slim, then I'll find it. I will not—I cannot—" Her voice cracked. "I will not spend the next hundred years looking like this!"
BIB ADVISED HER TO travel in her black widow's weeds and to save her nicer clothes for when she reached a decent-sized town. If she wanted to be taken seriously and have people treat her as more than a beggar, then she needed to present herself as a seamstress looking for employment. The best advertisement was to look not only neat and respectable, but to have a sense of fashion despite her circumstances. When Merrigan stopped to rest on the unpleasantly long walk to the town of Wylder-by-the-Sea, she used the sewing supplies she had made sure to take with her, to adjust her secondhand clothes to advertise her sewing skills.
That gurgling little croon of happiness came back into her throat as she sat in the sunshine and snipped and stitched and used trimmings she had bought for Judge Brimble's clothes but never used. She was quite pleased with her new look, especially when Bib helped with his limited magic, making the adjustments go so much faster. Anything related to his physical state, he could manipulate. Since she had used glue and thread and needles and cloth and pins to fix him, he could "adjust" other such materials, just like he adjusted paper and ink. The closer they got to Wylder-by-the-Sea, a decent-sized port, the more newspapers and other printed materials he could view, long-distance. That included colored prints of the latest fashions from other kingdoms, which the local tailors and seamstresses posted in the windows of their shops to lure in customers. Merrigan adopted what appealed to her from those images Bib displayed in his open pages.
"You, Mi'Lady, look like a respectable, clever woman who is still able to hold her head up high, despite how badly life and luck have treated you," Bib assured her, as they reached the outskirts of Wylder-by-the-Sea.
The five-day journey by foot had taken only a day-and-a-half because several farmers and merchants had stopped to offer her a ride until the next crossroads. There was something to be said for looking like a respectable person down on her luck, rather than a beggar, Merrigan realized. People were more willing to help those who hadn't been down very long. She didn't think that was quite fair. Didn't the people who were worse off need the help more?
"I hope you're right. No more sleeping under the stars for me, thank you very much," she said, lowering her tone as a coach with its windows open passed her. The young lady who leaned out the window of the coach got a scolding from an older-sounding woman, and withdrew into the shadows, but not before smiling and waving at Merr
igan. Such a nice, polite girl.
"You are fashionable and well-dressed, and anyone who refuses to hire you as a seamstress is a fool," Bib responded, once they were semi-alone again.
They weren't alone enough for extended conversations for quite some time after that. There were always people around them. Bib resorted to talking into her thoughts. Merrigan could respond in her thoughts, but the effort gave her a headache, which made her cranky, which didn't bode well for convincing someone to give her a job and a place to sleep.
Once they entered Wylder-by-the-Sea, she had far more success finding a room in a boarding house—run by a cheerful, painfully neat old woman and her hulking, mentally weak son—than she did finding employment. Merrigan knew better than to admit she had enough coins to support herself in decent but frugal comfort for several moons. She paid by the week, and begged her kindly landlady for advice on finding a shop that would hire her and be patient when the rain made her fingers ache.
That's laying it on a little too thick, Bib had scolded her, laughing softly, as Merrigan set off to visit the first of six tailor shops Mistress Coppersmythe recommended.
Not thick enough, Merrigan retorted four hours later, when she had visited each shop and couldn't get anyone to hire her. From some of the glances the tailors or seamstresses gave her clothes, she suspected they were jealous. She was visibly more fashionable, even in her sedate colors and secondhand clothes.
Too thick, Bib insisted. We're heading into cold weather, and winter is always worse on the coast, with all the damp in the air. They don't want to take you on and then have to coddle you when your fingers stiffen up, and pay you a day's wages for half a day's work.
"What am I to do?" she said aloud. "Someone in this town has to hire me. I refuse to be a beggar," she added, stamping her foot.
"Good for you, Granny." A massive, black-bearded man hobbled up to her. An elaborately carved peg replaced one leg from the knee down. "What sort of work do you want?"
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