“Here we are.” Frau Beck unlocked her front door. “You might want to—” Herr Lindworm promptly banged his forehead on the door lintel and let out a growl of pain. “—duck,” she finished belatedly. “Sorry. I’ll get you a poultice for that.”
She helped him lean down without overbalancing to get in the door, though that did not help once they got inside. His head still touched the ceiling and he had to bend his neck at an awkward angle.
“Oh dear,” said Frau Beck. “Here, sit down.” She gestured at the chair by the fireplace normally used by clients if they needed to wait while she made up a remedy.
He lowered himself gingerly, but at least he fit into the chair. Once his weight was off his feet, he leaned back slightly with a sigh. He still looked tense, however, as if ready to leap up at any moment. Frau Beck felt his eyes on her as she bustled about making the poultice for the bruise on his forehead and unpacking her pack, though he said nothing. She placed the notebook carefully on the hearth, not too close so a stray spark wouldn’t catch it, but close enough that the warmth could dry the lightly damp pages. Fortunately the book hadn’t been completely ruined by a night out in the open. Then she got a fire going, if only to chase away the feeling of the rooms having been empty for several weeks.
She made them a pot of tea, mixed with her calming blend. He eyed it askance when she offered him his cup.
“It’s only tea,” she said. “It will take the edge off.”
“I am more worried about the cup,” he said, but he accepted it. He held it delicately at first, then finger by finger resettled his grip so that he had it more firmly, though it still looked tiny in his hand. Frau Beck watched, but didn’t offer advice. It would be strange enough getting used to having thumbs without someone else telling him how he should learn to make them work to his advantage. She would offer advice only if he asked.
He sipped when she did. A second later he smiled. “You are right. It does help.” He sighed. They drank a bit more tea in silence, and then he set the cup down on the hearth and said, “What now?”
“Well, I think the first order of business is to find you a set of clothes that fit. The rest, we can figure it out as it comes to us.”
Chapter 13
Herr Lindworm ended up staying in Frau Beck’s flat for a week, sleeping on a bed of blankets she made up on the floor before the hearth. In that time, the hunt for the monster died down as it became increasingly clear that it had vanished. The hunt did come across Herr Lindworm’s old cave—this Frau Beck heard when she went to the market to buy food on the third day, though luckily Herr Lindworm’s appetite had changed to match his form and he wasn’t demanding whole sheep—but despite a guard being put on it no one saw even a glimpse of its most recent resident.
Frau Beck used the time not only to sew a set of clothes that would actually cover the lindworm’s large human frame, but also to get him used to the sheer difference of having a human body. He needed a little instruction in the nuances of human customs, but since he had grown up watching a wide variety of humans while hidden in Vienna he wasn’t as fish-out-of-water lost as he could have been. But just figuring out upright motion without the help of his trusty branch was a challenge.
Their first expedition out of doors once he had a set of clothes was to the churchyard, to lay flowers from Frau Beck’s garden on the fresh graves of Kristina and her grandmother. They stood side-by-side, staring at the brown, disturbed earth and the simple wooden markers. Frau Beck wiped away a few tears. Herr Lindworm looked shocked when a few tears of his own streaked down his face. He wiped them off and stared at the water on his fingertips. Then he tasted them with his tongue.
“They’re salty,” he said. “I never knew human tears were salty. But it seems appropriate. Nothing that burns this much in your eyes, and takes this much bitter feeling inside you to produce, should taste pleasant.” A few more tears dripped down, which he did not bother to clean away. “I am so very sorry,” he said to the silent graves.
“I, too,” said Frau Beck. She slipped an arm through his. After a few more minutes, by mutual, silent agreement, they turned and went home. Both were very quiet for the rest of that day.
Frau Beck had expected that spending some time outside would darken his fair, delicate skin. Instead, he turned lobster-red after only a few minutes in direct sunlight. After the first alarming instance of this she began brewing him a powerful sun-protection lotion that he had to remember to put on every morning if he wanted to go outside. It left him always smelling slightly of aloe and sweet pea, and she quickly began to associate that particular combination with his nearness.
The townsfolk were friendly, and very forgiving of any oddities, since word had gotten around that Signore Lynd had been ‘injured’ while coming to help them. Several of the men even paid visits to ask for tips on locating the creature. Signore Lynd answered them all with every appearance of seriousness, though Frau Beck sometimes had to leave the room to keep from bursting out laughing. No one questioned him staying with Frau Beck even though she was a single woman alone, since she was supposedly looking after him while he healed.
Signore Lynd even picked up a small group of admirers, young, single ladies eager to tell him how brave he was. Frau Beck stood apart and watched narrowly, but to her eye he seemed more uncomfortable with them than anything.
At the end of the week, they both decided it was time to try a trip into the mountains, and once they were fairly sure no one was around to see, Frau Beck stood a little distance away while he tried turning back into his true shape.
It happened so quickly Frau Beck jumped a little when a crack of air exploded outward. There was a brief smell of edelweiss, and there he was again, dappled scales and huge maw and long tail and all. He spent some minutes just running in circles and even frolicked a little, an interesting sight in so large a creature. Then Frau Beck climbed onto his back and he took off for the high, flowery meadow he had shown her before where they would be sure not to be disturbed. She wondered if he was going his fastest on purpose or whether he was just enjoying pushing his natural body to the limit, but she grimly hung on to his crest and never asked that he slow down.
Once they reached the meadow and she had climbed down, to her surprise he changed himself into a human—he reappeared still dressed, which was something Frau Beck had forgotten might be an issue when he initially transformed—and took a walk around the meadow, bending to admire a particular flower here and there. At the end of his circuit, he paused, knelt, and plucked a single flower. When he brought it back to her she saw that it was a perfect sprig of white edelweiss.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“I remember you put one of these in your hair, before. I thought you might like to do so again.”
Frau Beck glanced down to hide a slight blush. She was no hopeful maiden, for her face to grow warm when a man offered her a flower. Clearly he meant it as a kind gesture, a reminder of their first day here. “Thank you,” she said, accepting it and weaving the stem into her braids.
He sat down beside her on the blanket she spread out, once again surprising her by not changing back into a lindworm. Instead, he accepted the cold sausage she handed him, bit off a hunk, and lay back, staring at the sky as he chewed.
“I have never looked straight at the sky like this before,” he said. He swallowed, and smiled an almost lazy, relaxed smile. “It looks different from this angle, and I think I even see colors a little differently.”
“You’ve adjusted remarkably quickly, I think,” she replied.
“Not having an option to be anything but human for a week did aid in that. And there certainly are some benefits. I am seeing a great many things with different eyes.”
She glanced at him, but his gaze was fixed on the clouds.
“So, what now?” she asked. “Do you plan to stay, or see the world now that you can go anywhere?”
He snorted. “What I would I do with the world? I am perfectly content to stay
in these mountains. They are still my territory.”
“But would you try to claim the throne? You are the long-lost heir.”
“The Empire doesn’t exist anymore. What good would it do to appear out of nowhere and make such an outlandish claim? It isn’t as if I am really the son of Prince Rudolf. Certainly I don’t look the part.”
He did have a point. Frau Beck nodded, conceding. He looked far more like the mountain hunter he claimed to be than a long-lost prince. But she’d had to ask, or she would have always wondered.
“I did like the look of that cottage, the one where you performed the spell,” he said after another minute of silent contemplation of the crowds. “Perhaps I’ll stay there, and have an excuse to stay in the area and hide in plain sight. That did look like the perfect home for a hunter, did it not?”
She nodded. “It did, at that.” She did her best to keep the relief out of her voice.
“And in the meantime, we can continue searching for a way to continue my race. Only now, I can help you instead of waiting for you to come home.”
“Given what a disaster this first attempt was, I admit it will be a relief not to come home and find you’ve torn apart a village looking for me.”
He winced, and she mentally scolded herself. He blamed himself for Kristina’s death at least as much as she did. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. We can make sure it never happens again. We’ll find the right way, eventually.”
He said nothing to agree with or refute her.
They spent most of the day in the mountains, and in the early afternoon returned to the ruined cottage. They circled around and inside of it, and from what they could tell the stones themselves were still sound. Frau Beck left him with some blankets and other supplies, and promised to ask around in town who might be willing to help rebuild in exchange for fresh game and remedies.
“One last thing,” she said. “May I have one of your scales? Just in case I meet some open-minded young wife just moved to town and the opportunity arises. I want to be ready, rather than have to come track you down.”
“Of course.” He instructed her on how to extract a scale from his neck without hurting him too badly. It was about the size of her palm, the dark green of pine trees mixed with seams of loam brown, and faintly metallic when held up to the light.
“I’ll be careful with it,” she promised.
“I am most grateful. Take good care of it—it carries my hopes with it.”
“Of course.” She stroked the spot where the scale had been taken, which was pinkish but already healing. He curled his tail briefly around her shoulders, and then released her.
She walked back to town alone.
Re-entering her flat, she glanced around rather helplessly. It felt too large, and empty, after sharing the space with a big man who kept bumping into things because he had no sense of his own proportions.
“Maybe I should get a cat,” she muttered to herself. “Just embrace the full old-widow image entirely and not look back.” She dropped into the chair by the hearth, the one that had become Herr Lindworm’s accustomed seat, kicked off her boots, and tucked her feet under like a girl. But when she felt the first tear slide down her cheek she jumped up and started work on one of the more difficult concoctions she knew of. No one had a particular need for it, but her hands and brain needed something to do.
He’s staying close by, she thought. That’s something good, at least. Isn’t that what you wanted?
But of course that led to the unanswerable question: what do you want?
Once the concoction was heating over a single candle, Frau Beck contemplated the scale, which sat shining on the hearth. It teetered slightly on its curved edges in the warmth from the fire, but when she picked it up it was quite cool.
Just in case, she reminded herself, and went to find her sturdiest mortar and pestle. She patiently ground the scale into powder, taking breaks from the complicated concoction to rhythmically get the hard, glittering substance even finer. When it could be sifted like the finest flour, she poured it into a dark green bottle that happened to be the same color as the scale, and set it atop the mantel.
There it stayed patiently for the next few weeks. She visited Herr Lindworm and praised the work steadily being done on restoring the cottage with the help of several townsfolk she’d contracted on his behalf. He visited her in her flat, and sat comfortably in the chair while they chatted and she worked. Twice they even visited the mountain meadow again, and the second time the sunset was so beautiful Frau Beck couldn’t seem to stop shivering. She almost jumped when he draped an arm around her and pulled her into his side, but despite the quiver in her heart she couldn’t pull away.
She knew then what the solution was, what it had always been.
It took her several more days after that, and it was just before the summer solstice when she finally worked up the courage to do what had to be done.
She dug a hole in her own garden. Then she went to the mantel and took down the green bottle.
The flower that grew overnight was, to her surprise, a simple white edelweiss, though no edelweiss should have grown this far down the mountains. It did look like a tiny star nestled against the green. A fitting symbol for the lindworm’s hope of a future.
She could give him that gift, if she dared. She wasn’t a princess, but wasn’t it better if it were someone who understood full well the consequences and did it anyway for the sake of someone she cared about?
She picked the flower, and after removing the petals with utmost care one by one at her worktable, picked up two of them. She weighed them in her palm, rolling them around a bit, getting to know them.
Hesitating, if she were being completely honest. Stalling to see if she could talk herself out of what she was about to take on.
What do you want? The voice sounded like Karl’s.
Wilhelmina popped them into her mouth and swallowed them down with the aid of a glass of water.
Chapter 14
Summer 1920, Brig, Switzerland
Nothing changed, outwardly, in the next few days. She didn’t feel any different, but then she didn’t expect to. The changes would be gradual, in the beginning.
She did take the time to write letters to her fellow hedgewitches—all of whom had responded to her earlier queries with regrets that they had not thought of any solution—telling them that she had worked something out on her own. She hoped that her detailed descriptions of the transformation spell, its effects, and where she had found it would distract them from asking any further questions about making more lindworms.
Herr Lindworm visited on the third day unexpectedly. She just looked up from chopping thyme, and there he was looming in the doorway. He ducked, and came in, but didn’t sit in his usual chair. Instead, he stood looking around the room as if puzzled.
“Something has changed,” he said.
Wilhelmina kept her head down, because she had no idea what expression was on her face at the moment or how he might interpret it. She kept chopping fiercely. His eyebrows knit together and he watched her chop for a few more seconds, and then he glanced at the hearth. He did a double take, saw what was missing. This time she did meet his eyes. Her heart was in her throat, and she couldn’t make herself take a breath. She set down the knife.
She watched his expressions—which changed rapidly from surprise to amazement, and then finally into growing suspicion. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, so like a curious lizard that it was easy to see both forms of him in that one moment. “Did you...?” He mimed putting something to his lips and swallowing.
She nodded. “I realized it was the only way I would ever feel comfortable with anyone knowing exactly what they were taking on. And...in the end, you're my friend. I didn't want someone else doing it.” Her hands slid to rest palm-down on her flat midsection. “You're going to have a son.”
“You...” He trailed off. He looked as if she'd hit him over the head with her mortar, almost as amazed
as he'd looked when he realized he was human for the first time. “You did it for me?”
“For you, and for me. This will give me a future as well. Particularly if the human twin is a daughter. Not a replacement for the son I lost, but a—a moving forward.” Her eyes brimmed with tears that didn't spill.
A huge grin split his face. Ducking down so he wouldn't hit his head on the ceiling but increasing the impression of an onrushing locomotive a little too much for comfort, he lunged forward, swept her up in his huge arms and lifted her bodily from the floor. Before she knew what was happening he planted an enormous kiss on her lips.
Heat flooded her, and all she could do was hang limply in shock. Her brain couldn't come up with any appropriate response. He set her down, more gently.
“I am—I apologize. I’ve seen humans do this before when they were happy, and I was so overcome, I couldn't control—I apologize. Most sincerely.” His pale face was a brilliant crimson.
“It's all right. I understand. Don't worry, I'm not angry.” What she did feel about it, she had yet to sort out. But she was relieved he wasn't furious—that had been her secret worry since she had decided what she was going to do. But he had left the decision in her hands when he let her walk away with his scale, and he certainly didn't seem disappointed in the outcome.
He turned his head a little to the side, and she could see his eyes flicking around as he thought. When he looked back, his expression was almost...shy. “Will you move into the cottage with me, when it's finished in a few months?”
“What?”
“It would be more room than here, though not much. It will make it easier for me to look after you, since you don't have a husband or anyone else.”
“You'd—do that?”
“Of course. After what you've done for me, I owe you more than I can repay.”
“Are you asking to...make an honest woman of me?”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “In a way. Though we wouldn't be husband and wife, not truly. You could sleep wherever you want, since I will probably sleep outside. The cottage would be your domain, just as this flat is now.”
The Dragon & the Alpine Star Page 13
