My Unfair Godmother

by Janette Rallison

“I know of a magic book,” Clover said, keeping his voice low. “It’s called The Change Enchantment and it has the power to change written stories. For two spools of gold, I could get it for you so you can alter the ending of your fairy tale. That way you won’t have to marry King John or stay here for a long time.”

  “What would I have to do in order to finish the fairy tale and get home?”

  Clover shrugged. “Just write down the moral of the story at the end of the book.”

  “The moral of the story?” I repeated. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

  “All fairy tales have a moral,” Clover said. “The moral of The Three Little Pigs is that hard work pays off in the end. The moral of Little Red Riding Hood is that you shouldn’t talk to strangers. The moral of Cinderella is that men never look at a woman’s face long enough to recognize her, so you had better wear distinctive footwear if you want to catch a prince.”

  “Really?” I asked, then decided I didn’t want to talk about Cinderella. “So what’s the moral of Rumpelstiltskin?”

  Clover dipped his miniature chin. “You’ve got to figure it out yourself, but don’t worry, there will be people there to help you.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Right.” I could figure it out. And if not, I had a father and stepmother who were librarians and a brainiac stepbrother. They had to know the answer.

  “I’ll give you The Change Enchantment after you give me the spools of gold.” Clover walked toward me with his hand outstretched to shake mine, but when he reached the circle of sand, he took a staggering step back. “What kind of foulness is that?”

  “King John’s wizard put it there,” I said. “It’s to stop fairies from spiriting me off.”

  Clover wrinkled his nose and took another step backward. “It also works to keep magical creatures from shaking on a bargain.”

  I stretched my foot to see if I could push away some of the sand, but I couldn’t reach. I turned to Hudson and smiled at him. “Hudson, do you think you could move the sand away?”

  He shut his eyes for a moment, thinking. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Tansy.”

  He didn’t have to tell me why. All day I’d listened to the castle staff tell stories of ill-fated mortals who’d made deals with magical creatures. But there were other stories I remembered my father reading to me when I was young. Stories about good magical creatures. The pixies that helped the cobbler with his shoes. And the fairies who helped Sleeping Beauty after the evil fairy cursed her.

  I didn’t believe Clover would purposely hurt me. The Change Enchantment had to be a good thing if it kept me from having to marry King John. All that was standing between me and a quick trip home was a circle of sand. I turned to Hudson, still on my knees. “Hudson, please.”

  He hesitated, then let out a long sigh. “So now you’re fluttering your imploring eyelashes at me?”

  “I’m trying to get us home.”

  He walked over, handed me his torch, and dropped to his knees near the circle. Taking a cloth bag from his pocket, he scooped up the sand and dropped it inside. He cleared half the circle away, but Clover still wouldn’t come near me.

  “Mortals are always trying to trap leprechauns,” he said, eyeing Hudson warily. “He might redraw the circle around me and then demand me gold.”

  “Why would I want to steal your gold?” Hudson asked, but he continued to pick up the sand and put it into his bag. “I took all I needed last night.”

  “You took some of the gold last night?” I asked. I hadn’t even taken any gold.

  “While you were sleeping and no one knew it was there yet, I came in and got some.” He scooped up the last of the sand and pulled the drawstring on his bag. “We might need gold later.”

  When the circle was gone, Clover walked over to me, held out his hand, and shook my pinky. “We’ve a deal. Two spools of gold for The Change Enchantment. I’ll come tomorrow for the exchange, you can shorten your story, and Chrissy is none the wiser.”

  As soon as the words were spoken, the leprechaun disappeared.

  Hudson surveyed the ground around me. “I wonder if they’ll notice the ring of sand is gone.”

  “You can put it back now,” I said.

  “If it keeps the next fairy away and he doesn’t spin the straw into gold, you’ll be killed in the morning.” He picked up a stray clump of sand then took the torch from my hand to get a better look. “Besides, this sand has magical properties. We might be able to use it. I’ll find something that looks close enough so Haverton doesn’t realize what we’ve done.” Hudson brushed the sand from his fingers, then glanced back at the door. “It’s getting late. You’d better start crying so your visitor will come.”

  I tried. I forced a frown on my lips and blinked my eyes. Nothing happened. Now that I had an agreement with Clover, I was happier than I’d been since I’d been dragged from my home.

  Hudson watched me. “I don’t think pouting will work. You need some actual tears.”

  I tried to blink tears into my eyes, and felt so foolish I giggled instead.

  Hudson kept watching me. “You know this is serious, right? Your life is on the line.”

  “I know it; I just can’t feel it.” I should have taken acting lessons from Kendall. She cried onstage all the time.

  Hudson regarded me quietly for another moment. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but maybe I should.”

  And then he didn’t say anything.

  I sat up straighter, nervous at the silence. “What?”

  “I used some of the gold to pay a messenger to go to the miller’s house. I figured your parents would want to know that you’re okay and we could start making plans to meet somewhere after I got the Gilead.”

  More silence. I stood up to better see Hudson’s face. “And …?”

  His eyes left mine. He looked at the straw mounds for a moment before forcing his gaze back to me. “The messenger returned this evening. Your family isn’t there anymore. The house has been ransacked.”

  I felt like I’d taken a blow to my stomach, like Hudson had hit me with the words instead of whispering them. My family was gone? Our things were ransacked? I tried to extract unsaid things from the shadows of his eyes, the tilt of his head. “Does anyone know what happened? Did the messenger ask the villagers what they’d seen?”

  Hudson’s voice was low, apologetic. “Maybe they left before your home was robbed, but it doesn’t look good. Some said they saw bandits in the village. Your big modern house, the glass windows and curtains … It must have drawn them there. I’m sorry.”

  The word “sorry” at the end hurt the most. It seemed so final. Panic erupted inside me. It was hard to breathe. “You’re just saying this to make me cry,” I said. “It isn’t true.”

  He didn’t flinch at my accusation. His voice dropped even lower. “Nick is my friend. I’ve known him since elementary school.” I could see the pain in his eyes, raw and weighted with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Tansy.” He held my gaze for a moment more, then turned and walked toward the door.

  I tried to follow but was held fast by the chain. It rattled tight, pulling my arm back. “It isn’t true!” I called out. “Hudson, come back here!”

  He didn’t turn around. He didn’t even slow down. I saw him clench one hand tight, then he was out the door, and it shut behind him with a bang.

  “It isn’t true,” I whispered to myself, but I knew it was. Hudson had lost his mother; that’s why the pain and sympathy had shined in his eyes. He had been through this kind of loss himself.

  I sank weakly to the ground. Bandits had ransacked the house. My family had no weapons, no practice defending themselves. My only hope was that they’d gotten away, that they were still alive somewhere. I thought of the contract, how the consequences of magic were permanent and binding. I let out a low wail, put my head in my hands, and cried.

  Chapter 12

  I had been sitting on the ground for some time, sobbing into my hands, before I looked up and saw Rumpelst
iltskin. He wore the same clothes he had worn last night and sat on the stool, resting his foot on one bony knee. His pointed boots made his feet look abnormally thin. Or maybe they were abnormally thin, like the rest of him. He regarded me with a smile. “You find yourself in trouble again tonight, Mistress Miller?”

  I wiped the tears off my cheeks and tried to compose myself. “My family has disappeared. I don’t know if they’re all right. Can you help them?”

  He gave me a consolatory shrug. “How can I when I have no knowledge of their whereabouts?”

  “But can’t fairies do that sort of thing? Chrissy could.” She had, after all, waved her wand and made Robin Hood and the Merry Men appear in my backyard.

  “Even fairies have their limits.” Rumpelstiltskin’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Some have more limits than others, thanks to the Alliance. And Chrysanthemum Everstar, well, I can scarce believe the Alliance ever gave her a wand. She’s more dandelion fluff than fairy. When did you have the misfortune of dealing with her?”

  So he did know her. He hadn’t admitted to that last night, but this bit of deceit didn’t surprise me. I had always known I couldn’t trust him. I wasn’t about to answer his question. I lowered my head sadly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He stood up and walked slowly toward me, noting the chain on my arm. “The king has tethered you in a barn and surrounded you with straw. I suppose this is his subtle way of requesting more gold?”

  I nodded. “And this time he wants it lighter.”

  Rumpelstiltskin took my hand from where it had lain across my knee and stroked it between his cold, smooth fingers. I resisted the urge to yank my hand away from his touch.

  “I’ll spin the straw into gold for you.” The stroking of his fingers paused on top of my opal ring. “All I require in payment for my services is your ring. Do we have a bargain?” He caressed the ring, circling the band of gold. I took it off quickly and gave it to him so he’d stop touching me.

  Rumpelstiltskin smiled, showing a flash of his gray teeth, then tucked the ring into his breast pocket. Humming, he snapped his fingers, and the large spinning wheel appeared in front of the stool. He sat down, motioned to the straw with one hand, and a stream of it rose from the ground as though it had been picked up by a great wind. It twirled around him for a moment, then dived toward the wheel, wrapping itself where the yarn should go. I watched the wheel spin, watched the blur of pale yellow transform to shining golden string. I had seen it last night, yet it still mesmerized me.

  Rumpelstiltskin sang for a little bit, then looked up and saw me watching him. “You’re weary. You should sleep.” I laid my head down on the ground, exhausted, and heard the whir of the wheel as I drifted off.

  I didn’t wake up until King John and Haverton came into the barn. It would have been hard to sleep through King John’s laughter. It was high-pitched and gasping. If I hadn’t seen the glee on his face as he strolled around counting spools, I might have thought he was choking on air molecules.

  He wore a purple tunic and matching purple robe today. I remembered that purple was the color of royalty in the Middle Ages, but modern life had ruined the color for me—he reminded me of Barney the dinosaur. Or maybe the similarity was the way he kept clapping his hands together happily. I sat up and yawned.

  Hudson must have come in again during the night and redrawn the anti-fairy ring—although it wasn’t the same red sand that had been there before. It looked more like crushed kidney beans.

  Dozens of spools were spread across the room—smaller spools, with thinner thread. I supposed because King John had asked for lighter gold. He stopped at several of the spools, admiring them like they were works of art.

  “Resplendent! Prodigious!” He knelt down in front of one and stroked it. “We shall name this one Theobald, and he shall sit at the foot of our bed.”

  Haverton made note of it on a scroll he carried. “I’ll have the guards take it there at once, sire.”

  King John moved onto another spool, patting it lightly. “And this one we shall name Helewise because she is beauteous. Splendiferous.”

  I was pretty sure he was making up words now, but I nodded in case he was talking to me. Then I motioned to Haverton, pointing to my shackle in hopes he would come unlock it.

  He ignored me and followed King John around the room, murmuring in agreement about each spool the king named. Poor Haverton. It must be hard to work for someone who was both crazy and dangerous.

  “This one shall be called Engelbert,” King John proclaimed.

  Engelbert? This was another reason not to marry King John. Our baby would end up with some hideous name, and other children would mock him behind his back.

  King John didn’t look at me as he strolled around the room. I wasn’t sure he even remembered I was there. I hoped I would escape his notice altogether, but when he reached the spool closest to me, he turned and asked, “What would you name this lustrous one?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t know many names from the Middle Ages. I tried to remember names I’d seen in movies from the time period. “Robert,” I finally said.

  “Robert?” King John asked disapprovingly.

  “Or you could call him Bob for short. Bob the spool.”

  King John sniffed. “Nonsense. This beauty deserves a name as radiant as she is.”

  Oh. It was a she. Well, that made naming her “Bob” awkward. Instead of trying to come up with a girl’s name, I said, “I think you are best suited to name the gold, Your Highness.”

  He sent me a cold look. Perhaps because I had referred to him as “you” when he kept referring to himself in plural terms.

  I tried to fix my sentence. “I mean, you guys, are best suited to name the gold … you all.”

  His expression didn’t change.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, Your Highnesses.” His frown increased, so I added another “es” to my already long “Highnesses.” I sounded like a snake with a stutter.

  “The girl understands nothing about gold,” he told me. At least he was looking at me, but since he was referring to me as “the girl,” maybe he was talking to Haverton. Or maybe he thought I couldn’t hear him. It was hard to tell with that whole insanity issue going on. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to answer.

  King John pointed at the spool. “Her name is Alfreda and when we are married, the girl will leave the handling of the gold to us.”

  I hesitated. “Um, do you mean when you and Alfreda are married?”

  King John made clucking noises. “How ludicrous. Of course not. We meant when you and we marry.”

  “Oh.” Unfortunately, that part of the fairy tale was happening right on schedule.

  He walked over to me, scattering the sand circle with the bottom of his robe. He didn’t even glance at it. Instead he gave me a tolerant smile. “We came to tell you the good news ourselves. If you learn to spin the straw into gold, we will marry you tomorrow morning. We know it is a rash decision, impetuous even, but what can we say? We are not ones to dally about when we’re in love.” He put his hand on his chest. “Romance makes us giddy.”

  I leaned away from him. “But I already told you—a fairy changed the straw to gold. I can’t do it.”

  He bent down, still smiling. “Yes, but when your fairy godfather comes tonight, you shall ask him to grant you the power to do it yourself. Then you shall spin an entire roomful.” King John straightened and took a couple of steps away from me, scattering more of the sand circle. “If you fail, tragically, we will turn you over to the executioner.” He tilted his head, considering. “Or if you fail tragically, we will turn you over to the executioner.” He bestowed another smile on me. “It’s where you put the emphasis in the sentence that makes the difference in what is tragic. Call us crazy, but we’ve always loved grammar.”

  Without waiting for my reaction, he turned to Haverton. “Take care of the girl. We’ve a busy day tomorrow. Either a wedding or an execution. Flexibility is our middle name.�
� He walked to the door, brushing up loose pieces of straw with his robes. “And Haverton, do go fetch her family so they can join her in either event.” He smiled at me one last time, then went out the door.

  • • •

  My third day as King John’s guest proceeded much like my second day had. The chambermaid helped me wash and do my hair. I was given another dress, a finer one. It was maroon with a large band of gold brocade on the collar and around the drooping sleeves. I hated it immediately. I no longer liked the color gold.

  As soon as I was alone, I called for Clover. He showed up at once, standing on the edge of the wash basin. His outfit was a brighter green than the last one he’d worn. He had on crisp new white stockings and sleek black polished boots. He stepped onto the table with a bounce in his step and surveyed the room.

  “Morning, lass.” He held a tiny book with a spinning wheel on the cover. “I’ve got The Change Enchantment. Where’s me gold?”

  “The spools are in the barn. You’ll have to zap a couple away.”

  He let out a disgruntled breath and slapped the book against his thigh. “I can’t do that. You have to give me the gold personally. Otherwise, I’m not making a bargain with you; I’m stealing from the king. The UMA is picky about these sorts of details.”

  I inwardly groaned. King John wasn’t likely to let me near that gold again. “Can’t I just tell you it’s okay to take two?”

  Clover paced back and forth across the table, glowering at me from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “I already bought new clothes, and I had to grease a few hands to get The Change Enchantment. I told the blokes I’d be back with their money today. Why didn’t you summon me last night when the gold was done?”

  “I fell asleep,” I said.

  “Well, if you don’t want to marry King John, you’d best not fall asleep tonight. Otherwise you’ll wake up to the strains of minstrels playing the wedding march.” Clover tucked the book into his jacket with more force than was necessary. “A leprechaun can get in a right lot of trouble for not paying his debts. What if the UMA takes away me magic? Then I’ll be no better than that ghoul of a fairy you’re dealing with now.” He looked upward, shaking his head. “Ah, it would just be me luck to end up emaciated in some children’s story, scaring tykes before bedtime.”