Callum ladled soup into a small bowl. “You mean, ‘Who was that?’ That was Trina. She’ll come out and introduce herself when she’s ready. She’s a bit shy, like all red squirrels.” Callum pointed to the furry critter in his hat brim. “This is Beau, her brother. He’s a bit braver and already sneaking curious peeks at you, I’m sure.”
Over the brim of the wizard’s hat Mae spotted two gleaming eyes, peering at her as she brushed the dust from her skirt. She moved toward the crackling fire and sat on the hearth, and Callum handed her a bowl of soup along with a wooden spoon. The spoon was carved from a twisted twig and worn smooth from use. It was much fancier than the spoons she used at her house. Mae dipped into the broth and sipped.
The sweet taste of onions and potatoes was bliss. She grinned as Callum slipped a piece of partridge into her bowl. Her supper usually consisted of watery cabbage, with bits of tough old chicken thrown in when one of the hens refused to lay more eggs. Mae gobbled the meal down like a pig at a trough.
Callum sat in the overstuffed chair watching Mae. She ate the last spoonful and wished she had a piece of bread left over to sop up the last licks of broth. She sighed with contentment, full for the first time in months. The wizard took the empty bowl and set it on the narrow table near his chair. “How was your supper?”
Mae smiled. “It was the best meal ever!”
“Food is kind of my specialty,” Callum said.
“Thank you, sir.” Mae leaned against the hearth. The stones were warm from the fire and soothing against her tired body. Her eyelids were heavy. It would be so nice to fall asleep, but Mae knew she would have to go home soon. She wasn’t looking forward to another wet trek through the woods.
The raven flew to Callum and settled on his shoulder. The wizard patted the bird without much thought. Then, leaning forward in his chair, Callum swung his arms forward to rest on his knees. “I take it your life with Gelbane has been a little, uh, unpleasant.”
Mae’s gaze flicked from the man’s stare to the raven perched on his shoulder. She shook her head, dropping her gaze to the floor. She followed the curving paths of the wood grain with a finger. “How do you know about Gelbane?”
Callum lifted the front brim of his hat off his head and scratched his scalp. “She’s been your guardian since your mother left, hasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“She treats you like her servant.”
“I don’t want to be a bother to anyone, sir.” Mae twisted the corners of her apron. “She was kind enough to take me in.”
“Hogwash! We both know that Gelbane is anything but kind.”
Tears gathered on Mae’s lashes. She didn’t like to wallow in her sorrows. What was the wizard trying to get at, anyway?
Callum’s voice softened. “Your mother was very kind to invite Gelbane to share your home after her village was invaded by trolls. It’s too bad your mother isn’t around to see what a fine young lady you’ve become, despite Gelbane’s dreadful treatment.”
The tears that had gathered now hurried down Mae’s cheeks. She didn’t swipe them away. “I miss her. I wish she would come home.” The raven hopped from Callum’s shoulder to the top of the chair and settled to preen his ebony feathers. Mae brushed at the dried mud on her toes. Her ears hung low. “Sometimes, I think it was my fault that she left.”
Shaking his head, Callum clicked his tongue. “Her leaving had nothing to do with you.” He lifted Mae’s chin with a finger, his hazel gaze intense. “I know about the wonderful things that happen around you, Maewyn.”
Mae narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Hens laying purple eggs, flowers blooming in the winter—”
“Waking up with my hair in knots, gates coming unlatched,” Mae scoffed, and pulled her chin from the wizard’s grasp. “I don’t think those things are so wonderful. I need you to tell me how to stop them. That’s why the raven led me here, isn’t it?”
“Magick can be wonderful, Maewyn, if you know how to use it. The raven brought you here, not to stop these things, but to help you learn how to control them. Perhaps you are even to be the next Protector of the Wedge.”
“That’s ridiculous. A wizard must protect the Wedge, not a hapenny.” Mae yawned and stretched her legs. “We are too small…especially me.”
“Magick is not limited by size or species. Why, the Great Protector, Gythal, was just a tiny man himself, and he’s the one responsible for putting the protective runes on the bridge to keep the trolls out of the Wedge. Right, old boy?”
The raven shook his body and flapped his wings, letting out a loud croak.
Callum cleared his throat. His voice grew serious again. “For you to be born with such magick, there must be a reason.”
“There’s never been a hapenny with magick before. Why would there be one now? Why would it be me? I’m the smallest hapenny in the Wedge!”
“Wizards show up where they are needed,” Callum said. “And that’s about all the explanation I can give you. We don’t choose to have magick. It chooses us.”
“But we have a Protector,” Mae insisted. “We have you.” Leif always said that hapennies didn’t have magick. Could he be wrong? Were the strange things that happened on the farm really her uncontrolled magick?
“Yes, well, I won’t live forever. Wizard or not, I’m still a mortal man.” Callum shifted in his chair and peered at the half-open door. “Did you hear that?”
Mae’s ears swiveled forward. Her nose twitched with fright. Gelbane must have noticed she was missing. Perhaps she had tracked her through the woods. What would happen if her guardian found her here? Mae’s muscles tightened, ready to flee.
Footsteps clicked on the stairs. The door creaked open. A pink nose appeared, followed by two dark eyes. Mae’s shoulders slumped with relief as the flower-eating sow trotted into the cottage. “Oh, pig-pig, it’s you!” She ran to the pig and patted her head. “I got into lots of trouble because of you—”
Callum closed the door behind the sow. “Aletta, there you are. It took you long enough.”
Mae looked at Callum. “Aletta? You know this pig?”
The sow snorted and stood on her hind legs. Mae leaped back as dark hair sprouted from the top of the pig’s head. Hooves turned into stubby fingers and toes. Pink skin turned into a light pink chemise with a mauve overdress. The wizard stretched her arms and yawned as her snout shrank into a pert nose. “That is the last time I spend two weeks as a pig. Snort, snort!” Aletta covered her mouth with her hands as her cheeks blushed bright red. “Oh, excuse me! Side effect, you know!”
Mae stared in astonishment. The woman was stout, but moved across the room with grace, grabbing a bowl from the table as she passed. She scooped a ladleful of stew into the bowl and brought it to her nose.
Callum gently closed Mae’s mouth with a finger under her chin.
“Ah, wonderful stuff. I’ve looked forward to eating something besides slop and flowers for days.” Aletta slurped the stew, not even bothering with a spoon.
Mae tugged at Callum’s sleeve, pointing at Aletta. “Can all wizards do that?”
Callum shook his head. “You should always use utensils.”
“No,” Mae giggled, “will I be able to change myself into a pig?”
Aletta put her hand on her hip. Callum wrinkled his nose. As if reading each other’s minds, they asked in unison, “Why would you want to?”
Mae pointed at the raven perched on the chair. “Any animal, really. If I am a wizard, will I be able to…transform into an animal?”
“Verdan Gripora?” Callum shrugged. “That’s advanced magick, but perhaps, if Aletta feels you have the talent.”
“Is the raven a wizard, too?” Mae looked up at Callum. “Why hasn’t he changed yet?”
Callum smiled, but his eyes were sad. “He’s a bit like a Protector, but he’s not going to change from being a raven. We call him Remy.”
“Not all wizards have talent in all areas,” Aletta said, taking M
ae by the shoulders and leading her back to the fire. “Some, like me, are gifted at changing form; some are talented with plants. Others are good with animals or music or potions. We all have our strengths.”
“When I play my flute, the pigs gather!” Mae said. “That’s how I catch them after they escape, if Gelbane isn’t watching. I like to pretend it’s magick.”
Aletta tapped Mae on the nose. “Are you daft? Of course it’s magick!”
“What is your strength, Callum?” Mae asked.
“I’m…er, I’m—I’m what you would call a…a Hybilia Frodliker.”
“A kitchen witch,” Aletta added. She tried to cover up a snorty giggle.
Callum cleared his throat. “It’s very rare for a man to be skilled with magick belonging to the home, you know.”
Mae smiled and patted Callum’s arm consolingly. “You should probably come up with a different name.”
Callum cleared his throat. “Hybilia Frodliker is a fine title. We all have weaknesses, too, you know.” Callum glared at Aletta. “We’ll start to explore yours tomorrow morning, Mae, after a good night’s sleep.” The wizard pointed down the narrow hallway. “You can take the small room down the hall on the right.”
Mae raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“The cottage will be your home now. You’ll stay with Aletta and me and learn to control the magick inside you.”
“Stay with you?” She’d never thought about leaving the Wedge, even if she could get away from Gelbane. What if her mother came back to find her gone? Mae reached into her apron pocket. She searched for the comforting feel of the smooth, wooden flute. The raven carving was there, but where was her flute? Her fingers poked into empty corners as her mind played back the journey through the woods. Oh no! She must have dropped the flute when the raven startled her in the barn. “I have to go back,” she blurted. “I have to get my mother’s flute. I must have dropped it.”
Callum and Aletta looked at each other and then at Mae. Aletta gathered Mae’s tiny hands in hers. “I can go back and get it for you. Just tell me where it is.”
“You…you don’t understand,” Mae stuttered. “I can’t stay here.”
“Dear child, of course you can. No more cooking or cleaning for that nasty Gelbane.”
“You don’t have to be a servant in your own home,” Callum added. “You can live with us and learn magick and be free from worry and excessive chores.”
Mae took a shuddering breath. “What if my mother comes back, and I’m not there?”
Callum’s brows knit together. “It’s been six years since she left. Your mother isn’t coming back, Maewyn.”
“Yes, she is!” Mae crushed her fists together. “Every letter I’ve ever gotten from her says she’s coming back. To not give up!”
“You receive letters from your mother?” Callum asked.
“Yes. Every once in a while, when things get particularly bad with Gelbane, a letter shows up at the doorstep. It’s like Momma sends them exactly when I need a boost of hope to keep me going.”
Aletta sighed and stood, turning to the wizard. “She isn’t ready, Callum. Remy was wrong.”
“Remy is never wrong. Maewyn, if you let your magick go untamed, it will likely leave you and choose someone else. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Mae said. “I mean, no. I mean, I understand the words, but I don’t understand why I would lose my magick.”
“Magick wants to have a master. That’s the only way I can explain it.” Callum sighed. “I will not force my own wants upon you. You, alone, must make the decision to stay here and learn to control your magick, or return to the Wedge and wait for someone who, in my opinion, will never return. Aletta will show you a shortcut back to the village.” Callum turned his chair to the fire and settled into the soft cushions.
Mae nodded and reached for the latch on the door. Her nose twitched and her ears drooped. The door squeaked open, allowing the fragrance of the night to sweep into the room. Aletta trotted past her, having already resumed her pig form.
Mae turned in the doorway. “Thank you, sir.”
Callum didn’t even turn his head. “No thanks are necessary.”
Mae followed Aletta down the steps and over the creek. They trotted through the meadow. The stars were disappearing in the lightening sky as dawn approached.
“Aletta, can you talk when you’re a pig?”
“Of course!” she snorted.
“Why didn’t you talk to me before?” Mae asked as she and Aletta scrambled underneath a fallen tree.
“Imagine, a pig talking! Most people would run screaming if their livestock talked to them.”
Mae brushed her bangs from her face. “I was surprised when Remy called my name. And a little frightened.”
“But you were brave to follow him. I was very glad to see you’d made it to our home, and I’m disappointed that you won’t stay. You know, I spent some time with your mother before she…went away.”
“You knew my mother?”
“She was wonderful. She would scratch my itchy spots and feed me apple peels.”
“Oh. You knew her as a pig.” Mae tried not to let disappointment color her voice.
“Being at the farm is a good way to keep an eye on what is happening in the Wedge without being noticed. We aren’t actually allowed in the Wedge, you know. It is some long-ago agreement between the Wizarding world and the hapennies. Callum does a good job with the perimeter, but I wanted a closer look.”
“You broke the rules?”
Aletta stopped and turned to Mae. “Sometimes, rules are made to be broken.”
“So, you are also a Protector of the Wedge?”
“Not in any official capacity. I’m self-appointed. No dawdling, now. Follow me!” Aletta turned onto a path that led deeper into the woods. The forest was so dense not even a sliver of moonlight managed to filter through the branches. Shadows loomed between trees. Misty tendrils of fog wrapped around trunks. Goose bumps rose on Mae’s arms. The hairs on her ears stood alert. “That’s not the way I came.”
Aletta called over her shoulder, “Callum said to use the shortcut. C’mon!”
Mae wondered if the wizard knew the definition of shortcut, because the path Aletta was taking surely didn’t look like one. Mae ran to catch up.
Time seemed to stand still on the dark path. No breeze stirred; no stars blinked. Mae didn’t even hear the hoot of an owl. In a few short minutes, she stood at the edge of the Wedge. The river babbled just ahead. To her right, the bridge arched over the rushing water.
“Wow, that was a shortcut!” She patted Aletta’s head, forgetting for a moment she wasn’t really a pig. “Oh, sorry, Aletta.”
“Don’t worry about it. We must return you to the barn before Gelbane awakes. I’ll help you find your flute, but then I must leave. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Thank you, Aletta, but I haven’t. The farm is my home.”
Mae and Aletta ran across the bridge and down the dirt path that led to the farm. Mae yanked the barn door open and toppled into the hay. She tried to remember exactly where she was lying when the raven dropped in. She rolled a sleeping piglet over but had no luck.
Aletta rooted through the hay, brushing it to and fro with her snout and scooching the golden straw with a hoofed toe. “I would change back into my human form, but if Gelbane saw me…well, it’s faster to run on four legs.”
“That’s okay.” Mae shoved the boar until he stood up. He wandered over to Aletta and started sniffing her ear.
“Oh, that tickles,” Aletta giggled. She bumped the boar with her rump. “Get lost, big guy. I’m not the sow for you.”
The boar sauntered to the far corner of the barn and plopped down with an unhappy snort. “Keep looking,” Mae said. “Gelbane never wakes this early.” She rolled the last piglet over and spotted the brown finish. “Got it!” Mae flopped into the hay with relief. She stretched and yawned. One star still shone faintly in the lightening s
ky. A blue streak in the sky surprised Mae.
“Look, Aletta!” She pointed to the window high above. “A falling star.”
“Quick, make a wish,” Aletta said.
There were many things Mae could wish for: cupboards full of her favorite pumpkin bread or a field of golden flax to spin, but only one thing was really important. Mae closed her eyes and wished. She wanted to have magick. She wanted to be a wizard. She wanted to protect the hapennies living in the Wedge. But most of all, she wanted her mother to come home. “Usually I play my flute when I am troubled with wishes. What do you do, Aletta, when you are troubled with wishes?”
“I spend a couple of days as a pig. There’s no better remedy than to see the world through someone else’s eyes.”
“You should go before Gelbane wakes,” Mae said. She pulled herself from the warm hay and brushed at the straws clinging to her skirt. “I’ll get the door.”
Before Mae could reach for the handle, the door burst open.
Gelbane’s shadow loomed over Mae. The weak sunlight of early morning silhouetted her form in the doorway. “You don’t think you can sneak out in the middle of the night without me noticing, do you?”
“Wha—what do you mean?” Mae stuttered. Her nose twitched at the metallic smell of the iron shackles draped over Gelbane’s arm. Her ears flattened against her head and her knees wobbled. The ankle cuffs knocked together with a clang.
“I warned you before.” Gelbane knelt and locked the iron cuffs on Mae’s ankles, pinching them closed. “Now you’ll understand the consequences of sneaking off. I’d like to see you try to run away with those on.”
Mae’s ears rang as Gelbane’s fist caught her in the ear. Tears pooled in her eyes. Bleary-eyed, Mae watched Gelbane saunter across the yard and into the house. The chain connecting her ankles was heavy, and her skin burned under the cuffs. Clouds, like great rolls of grey wool, approached quickly, blocking out the early morning sun. A brisk wind rattled the shingles of the hen house and slammed the barn door closed. Mae pushed the barn door open slowly, peering into the farmyard.
Hapenny Magick Page 3
