"Fascinating." The witch had forgotten her food, and instead was leaning her head on her hand and watching me keenly. "Do you eat like this at the palace?"
I swallowed the large amount of food in my mouth, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. I wasn't exactly skinny, after all. "Um. No." I picked up the bread and broke off a small piece. "That is, mother says it's a bad habit, but I really am very good at eating daintily when I have to." I fiddled with the bread. "I'm sorry."
"No, no, by all means, stuff your face." The witch laughed, and I suddenly didn't have much of an appetite at all.
"Actually, I think I'm done," I said quietly. "I'll just go and find Fen."
"Suit yourself."
I turned away before she could have the satisfaction of seeing the hurt look on my face, and all but ran out the door.
I found Fen still asleep in one of the trees. "Making great progress, I see!" I shouted up at him, and he woke and stretched.
"Just taking a nap. What's wrong with you?" He jumped down a few branches and perched on one close to me.
"One would think you didn't even care about getting your human body back," I said. "I thought it was important to you."
Fen blinked his large green eyes at me. "Someone's hurt your feelings, I see."
"Oh, she just laughed at me," I said, turning away to go sit on a log. It was covered in moss, and the moisture soaked through the seat of my trousers within seconds. "I shouldn't have expected anything better from a witch."
Fen came and jumped up onto my lap, settling there and purring.
"I suppose I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed," I said, running my hands along his soft fur. "It's very strange here, and well, I'm not accustomed to such hard work, and no one seems to care about my feelings."
Fen simply purred.
"I'll be alright," I said after a few minutes. "You should go inside, there's cheese."
Mraow, said Fen, and he jumped off my lap and trotted towards the cottage. I sat for a while longer, and then got up and headed back to finish scrubbing out the cauldron.
By the time I finished, the sun had dipped low on the horizon, behind the bent old branches and dripping leaves of the forest, and the sky was a brilliant canvas of orange and pink. I hadn't seen any sign of the witch, besides a few magical sounding noises and bright flashes from the cottage, so I dragged the newly gleaming black cauldron over to the front porch and headed down to the stream to clean up.
I was sitting on a rock with my feet in the mud, trailing a bulrush along the slow-moving stream and watching the fairy lights in the water slowly brighten when I heard a squelching behind me and turned to see the witch making her way down to the water. Her feet were bare, and she held her skirts up with one hand and her striped stockings and pointed shoes in the other. She smiled at me and set them delicately on the rock behind me. "Mind if I join you?"
I shrugged and turned back to the water.
"You did a marvellous job with the cauldron," she said, propping herself on the rock next to me. "I'd forgotten what it looked like originally."
"Thank you," I said.
The witch pursed her lips at me. "I'm sorry for laughing at you earlier," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I've not much experience with princesses, you know—"
I snorted.
"—but I ought to have known better than to make a personal comment regardless."
"It's alright," I said. "It oughtn't to have hurt my feelings so much. I've just had a very difficult few weeks."
"I imagine so," said the witch. "How do you think the prince will take to your running away? Do you think he'll be relieved?"
"No, that's the worst of it." I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "He's very stubborn, you see, and set on duty. I told him that I didn't think we'd be a good match, and he agreed, but said we ought to get married anyway because our parents want it. I imagine he's very angry with me right now. Might even be out looking for me."
"Hm," said the witch. "I suspect he's grateful to you. Secretly. And one can only hope he's not looking very hard."
"I don't think he'd ever imagine that I'd be in a place like this," I said, before realising what I'd said and clamping my hands to my mouth. "I'm sorry, that was very rude!"
The witch just chuckled. "That makes us about even then."
"It's very nice here!" I said. "I mean, much lovelier than you'd expect the lair of the Swamp Witch to look, that is—oh dear."
"It really is alright," said the witch. She took my hand and brought it back down to my lap. Her fingers were long and cool, and I felt the impression of them on my wrist even after she had let go. "There's a reason I live out here all alone and allow people to think that I'm dangerous. The more rumours, the better."
She brought a finger to her chin and leaned forward, looking out over the stream. She had a striking profile, wise but as ageless as any elf, and I thought she looked a little like the prince, although I privately thought that the strong jaw and sharp, long nose looked better on her. There was also something very sad about the way her eyebrows knit together, as if they bore the weight of years of worry. Part of me wanted to reach out and smooth the worry away, but of course that would be inappropriate.
"I don't know your name," I said suddenly. "I'm sorry, I've just been thinking of you as 'the witch,' and that's a little rude."
"It's true though," she said, turning and smiling at me. "My name is Meladora. You can call me Mel." She leaned over a little to touch her shoulder to mine. "Not many people know that. Count yourself privileged."
"I do," I said, breaking into a smile.
She sat, looking at me for a moment, and then stood and brushed herself off, holding a hand to help me up. "We should head back before the Seafolk start their nightly advance," she said. "Unless Fen's somehow managed to sway them in the last half hour."
"He doesn't seem very determined," I said. "Perhaps he's gotten used to being a cat."
"A cat suits him," replied Mel. "They do things on their own time, as does he."
THREE
The next few days passed quickly. Mel kept me busy with weeding and cleaning, and when there wasn't anything to do, I worked on organising the spare bedroom. The books were very distracting, and I often found myself getting lost in them for hours at a time, but Mel didn't seem to mind. Fen spent several nights in a row terrorizing the little people, in the hopes that a giant rampaging feline might dissuade them from their attempts, but to no avail. Every morning we found him under the kitchen table pulling little swords and arrows out of his fur and nursing his pride.
"This is inhumane," he whined to Mel on the third day. "I'll never get them to stop."
"Nonsense," said Mel. "You just have to try a different tactic." She was working on another love potion, which was apparently going much better. Instead of black, it was a bright orange-ish pink colour, and it released a steady stream of light, sweet-smelling smoke that floated around the ceiling and sparkled. Mel was very pleased with it. "You'll be getting a break soon anyway," she said, "as we'll be travelling into town to sell this and pick up supplies."
"Is that a good idea?" asked Fen. "What if someone recognizes the princess?"
"I'll be putting a disguise spell on both of us," said Mel. "You too, Fen, if you like."
"How do you know the love spell works?" I asked. "Are you going to test it?"
"I should think not," said Mel. "Unless you want to."
"I might as well just buy the whole batch from you and go home and make myself fall in love with the prince," I said with a sigh.
"It's not recommended for long term use," said Mel. "And if you don't like men, it won't go very far to changing your mind. It's only a mild potion, to awaken attentions, and it wears off after a few hours. Anything more powerful is illegal. I shouldn't even call it a love potion really, but that's marketing for you. How's your penmanship?"
We spent the rest of the day hunting around the house for empty bottles and writing out labels with information and ins
tructions for the potions.
"That's lovely," said Mel as I finished writing the words do not mix with other potions with a flourish. Her own writing was small and scratchy, and she made me do all the rest of the labels while she ladled the potion carefully into the bottles. Despite the fact that it had filled up the entire cauldron, it only made enough for ten large bottles and fifteen little ones.
Mel finished magicking the labels onto the bottles and packed them all in a crate. She went out for a few minutes, then came back with an armful of dried moss and leaves, and packed them in between the bottles to keep them from jangling. She finished by covering the crate with a large oilskin and attaching two leather straps to it.
"Excellent," she said. "I'd put a spell on it to make it less heavy, but I don't want to risk upsetting the potions. We'll take turns carrying it tomorrow."
"If I were human, I could help," said Fen from where he was curled up on top of the fireplace.
"If you'd gotten rid of my pest problem instead of lounging around, you'd be human," said Mel.
Fen yawned in her direction.
*~*~*
The next morning we set off in the direction of Priia. It was a bright, sunny day, and a morning mist rose from the swamp as we walked. Compared to how it had been the night of my frantic escape, the swamp seemed docile, even peaceful. The boots Mel had lent me were waterproof, and the moss was soft beneath my feet.
We kept to high ground. Mel seemed to know where we were going, even though no path was visible, and by noon, the stone wall that marked the border of Priia was visible beyond the trees.
"Right," said Mel, setting down her pack. "Brean, look at me."
I turned to face her, pulling my hood down as I did so, and lifted my face. Mel said a few words and waved her hand, and I felt an odd whoosh over my body. At first I didn't notice a difference, until I looked down and realised that my breasts had gone. Shocked, I reached up to feel my chest, and found myself grasping my assets, the same as they had always been, even though I couldn't see them.
"You're fine," said Mel. "You're still the same, I've just put a glamour on you. You've got a bit of stubble as well, and I've made your hair brown."
I reached up to feel my face as smooth as usual, but when I pulled the bit of my hair that was long enough to see down in front of my eyes, it was indeed brown instead of red. "What about you?" I asked, but Mel had already begun to work. In a few moments, the stately, dark-skinned elf in front of me had turned into a hunching crone with grey hair and skin like old sagging pastry. Her nose was long and hooked, with several prominent moles on it, and her eyes were watery and blue.
"Eugh," said Fen, and the old crone grinned at him.
"Shall I do you, too?" she asked, her voice cracked with age. Fen disappeared behind me.
"I don't think anyone will recognise him," I said. "Hang on, what about my voice?"
"Never was good with voices," said Mel, her own back to normal. "You'll just have to fake it. Better yet, just keep your hood up, and don't speak."
I nodded. "Can do."
I knew that I probably should have just asked to stay at the cottage, but part of me wanted to know how things were going without me. Had they announced that I was missing yet, or would they still be keeping it hushed? I wondered how Prince Periyat was handling the news. I would have bet anything that he was secretly relieved. He knew perfectly well of my preference for women, surely he wouldn't want to be trapped married to me.
When we finally came to the high stone wall, Mel put down her pack once more and placed her old bony hands on the grey stone, muttering to herself and sliding them side to side. She sidestepped to the left, one step, and then another, and then, looking pleased with herself, stepped back and snapped her fingers.
A gap in the wall appeared, large enough to duck through.
"Was that always there?" I asked.
Mel shrugged. "What guards don't know can't hurt anyone, right? How did you get past the wall?"
"Fen distracted the guards."
"High point in my career as a cat," said Fen proudly.
The other side of the wall was treed as well, although they gradually shifted from the crippled swamp trees into high straight cedars, and the ground became dryer and softer. It was the forest I had grown up playing in, where I'd hidden when I didn't want to go to my etiquette lessons. Even though we were still a several hours walk away from the castle and wouldn't be going that way anyway, I suddenly felt more at home.
We travelled east, avoiding any roads for another hour or so, arriving on the outskirts of town in the early afternoon. The city was walled, but the gates were open, and we were able to pass through with no more than a nod from the armoured guards. Mel had transferred the heavy crate to me, and anyone who looked at us would likely assume we were grandmother and grandson, in town to sell our wares.
I wondered if they'd been told to keep an eye out for the redheaded princess, and was suddenly glad of my disguise.
"Right," said Mel, her old crone voice back in effect. "Let's head to Witches' End and get this done with. Remember, leave the talking to me."
"Of course, Grandmother," I whispered, and she smacked the back of my head lightly.
"I am old enough to be your grandmother," she said.
I supposed that was true. How she looked in her disguise was probably closer to how she'd look if she were human. I knew that witches aged slowly, and elves hardly at all. Mel could be hundreds of years old. The thought was unsettling to me, though I wasn't sure why.
I had to admit I was excited to see Witches' End. I'd always wondered what it was like, though of course it wasn't the sort of place princesses visited. It was the home of witches and wizards and other magical folk. Anyone who didn't fit in with the rigid standards of Priia society ended up in Witches' End. I had been told by my tutors that it was a dangerous place, full of miscreants and pickpockets and the dregs of society. But other folks had had different stories. The cooks in the kitchen and the serving maids would sometimes nip down to Witches' End for a potion or a good luck charm. They told me of a bustling marketplace, with shops selling all sorts of magical wares, and the most unique and varied building styles and residents in all the land, all packed into a few streets along the river.
I wasn't disappointed. It wasn't bustling, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the colours and people were so bright and distracting that it hardly mattered. I turned my head in every direction, trying to get a glimpse of all the streets had to offer, from covered booths selling row upon row of jewellery, to shining shop fronts full of beautiful dresses and dazzling robes. Even the people were fascinating, their dress from all different countries, their faces all different shades. I saw several dark-skinned Saishen elves examining the wares at a fruit stand, and we passed a group of red-bearded dwarves performing on a street corner, their instruments ranging from long spindly strings to a bloated brass horn that was bigger than its owner.
I could have wandered for ages, but Mel obviously had places to be. We ducked into a relatively nondescript storefront with a range of colourful bottles on display in the glass window. The door was a deep purple colour and dented with age, and the inside was dark and murky, the dim light straining through the colourful bottles in the window to create dark rainbows on the wooden shelves and floor.
I stayed very still, worried that if I turned, the crate on my back would inevitably knock over a whole shelf of bottles. Mel reached out to ring a small copper bell on the counter, and then came to relieve me of the crate, lifting it onto the counter with strength that belied her wizened appearance. No one seemed to take any notice, though, and a few seconds later, the shopkeeper appeared from the dark recesses of the store and gave Mel a wide, toothy grin.
"If it isn't the Swamp Witch, here to sell me her wares," he said, sliding his plump frame in behind the counter. "What have you got for me today, eh? More cleaning spells? Or poison? I can always take poison."
Mel said nothing, merely r
emoved the oilskin from the top of the crate, revealing the clear bottles of bright coral liquid that sat nestled among the moss and leaves, giving off a slight glow.
"Well," said the shopkeeper. "Now this I can use. How'd you get it right?"
"Practice." Mel shrugged. "It wasn't easy, so I'll be expecting a decent sum."
"Of course, of course," said the shopkeeper, looking desperate for the bottles. "You want all gold, or are you interested in supplies as well."
"We'll take some gold, and a basket of basics," said Mel. "And I'll have one of your rooms above for the night as well."
After several minutes of haggling, they finally came to an agreement that Mel was happy with, and we left with a basket of goods, several gold pieces, and a key to one of the flats above the shop. We climbed the stairs behind the shop to the forest green door there, and found ourselves in a small but serviceable room with two beds and a window overlooking the street.
Mel locked the door behind us and waved her hands, before flopping down on the bed with a relieved sigh, her appearance once again that of a youthful fey. "Exhausting," she moaned, pressing her fists into her eyes. "No more glamours for a few hours. Then we'll go out to get supplies, and we'll leave early in the morning."
I sat on the bed, exhausted myself, and lay down. Fen came to sit on my chest, and began to purr. I scratched behind his ears, and he made a pleased noise. "I hope you're not going to expect ear scratches when you're a human," I said. He ignored me and continued to purr.
Mel sat with her arms around her knees, staring out the window. I wanted to ask why she couldn't just turn Fen back into a human, what he had done to deserve it, but I didn't want to disrupt the peace. I would get it out of them once we were back at the cottage, I decided. I deserved to know.
Witch, Cat, and Cobb Page 3
