by Wendy Mass
“Perhaps not until your hair grows out,” Father whispers.
Freddy giggles. I do not think he likes Alexander much.
I hang my head. Lately I had been thinking only of my own fate, not theirs. “What is this girl like?”
“Well, I do not exactly know for certain,” Alexander admits. “It was her older sister, Clarissa, whom Godfrey and I met at an apothecary shop over a three-day ride from here. Well, truly only Godfrey met her, since I was busy trying not to knock over any jars of strange-looking roots or balls of mercury and give my presence away. But she and Godfrey were talking as he gave her our order. By this point in the trip we had given up asking girls to come back with us, so she and Godfrey were merely talking like old friends. He brings that out in people. I heard the girl say she was filling in for her younger sister, a girl near your age, who is working hard to support their family. Their father used to be a successful book merchant, but they have fallen on hard times. If the girl is anything like Clarissa, she is sweet and generous — Clarissa gave us a lot of extra things we hadn’t even asked for — and quite a spectacular beauty. In fact, that is her name.”
“The girl’s name is Beauty? What kind of name is that?”
“A better name than Beast,” he points out.
“But I did not choose my name.”
“Neither, I am certain, did she.”
I suppose he has a point. “All right, so this generous, sweet, beautiful girl, why would she come here?”
“Well, I have not quite worked out that part yet. She is apparently very dedicated to helping her father and sister. Getting her to leave them will not be easy.”
I sigh. “Then why are we even having this conversation? I am going to bed.”
Freddy shakes his head in Alexander’s direction as if to say “shame on you” one last time before we exit.
“Welcome to our crazy castle, Freddy!” Alexander calls after us. Followed by, “Ouch, Mother!”
“Can I help you?” the innkeeper asks, chomping on an apple.
“We have returned,” Veronica says. “We would like a room for one night.”
He squints at us. “Have you visited The Welcome Inn before?”
“Now, now, do not tease the children,” Flavian admonishes, striding in from the other room. He places a huge hand on both our shoulders. “These are honored guests!”
We smile up at him. The innkeeper shrugs. “If you say so. Then I shall give you my best room.”
Veronica rolls her eyes. “We have heard that promise before. The last was not so great, to be honest.”
“Ah,” says the innkeeper, reaching for a key behind him. “But you have not seen the best of the best yet.” He winks at Flavian, who grabs the key from him. Instead of leading us upstairs, this time we go down a long, narrow hallway leading off from the main room. “I shan’t be here if you visit again,” Flavian says as we walk. “I have found work closer to home.”
“That is wonderful,” Veronica says sincerely. I squeeze her hand. Her mother will not be coming home to her, but she is still happy that another little girl out there will get her father back.
Flavian stops at the last room on the end and pushes open the door. Real beds! A window that opens and shuts to let in the air! A bathtub! We look at each other and bound into the room, grinning wide.
“Where is your cousin?” Flavian asks as we flop onto the beds. I look up to see that he is still in the hallway. The ceiling is higher in this room than in our other, but not by much. He would never fit.
“He had to go home,” Veronica replies with a giggle.
“That is too bad,” Flavian says. “But no doubt you will see him soon at the next family meal.” He winks. Clearly he never believed Handsome was our cousin.
“No doubt we shall,” Veronica replies.
“Enjoy your stay,” Flavian says, tossing the key to me. “And you do not need to worry about getting locked into the upstairs latrine by mistake. We had to take the bolt off the outside of the door after a father and son were accidentally locked in there last week. For twelve hours.” He winks again and closes the door behind him.
We burst out laughing and it feels good. I shall have to remember to do it more often.
After a meal that tasted just as bad as the last time we were here, I help Veronica scrub the dye out of her hair. The tub water turns deep brown, but even so, we cannot get her hair as light as it was. Time will have to do that.
The next morning we stop for one last visit to the field of wildflowers. Most of these varieties do not grow at home. Veronica wants to collect them for her grandfather, and I for Clarissa. I shall bring some to the apothecary, too, for he uses them in many medicines. I pull out one perfect red rose, and add that to my pile. Roses always remind me of my mother, and I instinctively reach up to touch my mother’s locket.
Handsome had given me his compass, so as long as we follow it south through the woods, we manage to stay on course. We talk about silly things like what Handsome’s bride will wear to their wedding, and whether their cake will be made of flour and sugar like normal cakes, or from bread! This keeps our minds from worrying about meeting strangers. But in truth I am not very frightened. While I was glad for Handsome’s protection, I am equally glad to be the one in charge now. I feel more at home in the world than I ever did. Plus, Veronica and I finally get to run as fast as we can without anyone slowing us down. We could certainly outrun any stranger. As we get closer, I get more and more excited to see Papa and Clarissa. I hope they fared all right without me.
We reach the outskirts of the village well before sunset. “Do you want to go to your grandfather’s house first?” I ask Veronica.
She shakes her head. “I must return the robes, and repay the monks for the book. I doubt they would want it back now.”
I laugh, remembering how we shredded it. “I think you are right. People will have to learn how to rid their house of mice some other way.”
She smiles. “And you were right about the magic. I was silly to believe in the stuff of fairy tales.”
“It is never silly to believe in wondrous things.”
She hugs me good-bye and promises to bring my payment to the apothecary shop in the next few days. Before she turns away, I hand her the rose. “To remember our quest,” I tell her.
She takes the rose and sticks it behind her ear. “I am not likely to forget it.”
“Nor I.” I swing my pack over my shoulder again and begin the trek home. It feels strange to be alone after all this time, but I find myself enjoying the solitude.
Papa and Clarissa are sitting at the table eating when I burst through the door. “I have returned!” I call out.
They both jump up and run over. Papa takes my pack and Clarissa hugs me tight. “We missed you!” she shouts.
“I missed you both, too.” I hand her the flowers. Her cheeks look rosy and her dress is clean. She almost seems like her old self again. I glance around the room. They have made it look more like a home in my absence. A rug, a comfortable chair, even a picture on the wall. A few books are stacked by the front door, which means Papa must have at least started selling a bit again.
Clarissa goes to bring me a cup of water, and Papa pulls me aside. He looks tired around the eyes but otherwise much happier than when I left, and a little plumper, too.
“You look good!” he says, holding both of my hands in his. “A quest changes a person, you know.”
I smile. “So I have heard.”
I spend the rest of the evening telling them all about our adventures. When we lay in bed later, Clarissa tells me that one of her old friends came into the apothecary shop complaining of a large scrape where her horse kicked her in the shin. Clarissa was able to make up a poultice of vinegar and myrrh, and now her friend is as good as new and no longer ignoring her. At least I think that was the last thing she said, because I faded off to sleep at the end.
Although I do believe she has begun to enjoy the job, in the morning Clar
issa easily hands over the smock she had taken to wearing to the shop to protect her clothes. Papa and I walk into town together, and he tells me how his business is slowly getting on its feet again. He tries to sound enthusiastic, but I can tell he is far from feeling secure again.
When I enter the shop, the first person I see is the butcher, sitting with his head back on a chair. If he recognizes me, he does not show it. He is busy chewing tarragon leaves while the apothecary readies his tooth-pulling tongs. I smile to myself.
“You have returned,” the apothecary says with barely a glance. Then he rattles off a list of ten chores to do.
“I am glad to see you, too,” I reply, tying my apron around my waist.
He grunts and gets to work on the butcher’s mouth. I spend the day reorganizing the drawers again, occasionally finding a few ingredients in the wrong place. Nothing as bad (or deadly) as the burdock and nightshade incident, but I would not want an old man to come in for a rash and leave with a remedy for womanly cramps.
As much as I enjoy working here, my mind keeps straying to the open road. The shop, and the whole village actually, seems much smaller than when I left. I remember feeling that way upon our return from trips with Papa, although they were much shorter trips. He and Clarissa seem to have fared fine without me, but it is nice to have our family all together again.
The days pass pleasantly, if slowly. I’ve been avoiding the bakery since I know it will make me miss Handsome. But after I’ve been back nearly two weeks Papa asks me to pick up the barley rolls on my way home and I can avoid it no more. A small part of me wonders if I’ll find Handsome inside, baking his famous rolls, but instead I find the baker teaching his new apprentice the proper way to take bread out of the oven. Judging by the wet compress the boy is holding around his hand, it is not by sticking your arm in.
I tell the baker how Handsome had gotten kicked out of another bakery when he tried to teach the man to bake better bread. He laughed. “North of the woods, you say? That baker is my cousin. He never takes my advice, either!” He gives me my rolls and tells me that Handsome has a solid future as a baker.
“I shall tell him that if I see him again.”
“I am certain you will,” the baker says. “How can two people named Beauty and Handsome stay apart?”
I smile and thank him for the bread. I do not know what part in my life Handsome will have in the future, but I hope the baker is right.
I arrive home to find Papa waiting at the door. “Come, I have news.”
I hurry inside after him. “What is it? Is everything all right?”
Clarissa jumps up from the chair. “I forgot how boring it is at home all day! And Papa would not tell me why he is jumping around like a child on May Day until you got home.”
“I wanted to tell you both at once,” he says. “I have just received word of a shipment of books long thought lost. I have to pick it up myself, though, and it is far from here. I shan’t return for near a week.”
“Is this a big shipment, Papa?” Clarissa asks.
“Yes,” Papa says. “In fact, it is such a big shipment that you can choose anything you like and I shall bring it home for you!”
“Truly, Papa?” Clarissa asks.
He nods. “Anything.”
Clarissa beams at me in excitement and then says, “I would like a silver comb, hair ribbons in pink, yellow, and green, shoes with laces rather than buckles, a hat with an ostrich feather, a pencil for my brows, and a silk scarf.”
“Is that all?” he jokes.
“Oh, and a tin of hard candies.”
“All right,” he says. “And for you, Beauty?”
I have no idea what to ask for. I look around the room and see the wildflowers I had brought back, now lying on a shelf next to the nub of a red candle. I think of the rose I gave Veronica to remind us of our journey, and of my mother’s rose petal in the locket around my neck, turned to ash by the fire. “A red rose would be lovely.”
“That is all you want?” he asks.
I nod. Clarissa rolls her eyes but says nothing.
When we awake in the morning, Papa is gone.
To keep myself occupied, I set up my laboratory with Freddy as my able assistant. It is now as good as new. Better, even, since Alexander picked up some items that I had not even thought to request. When I asked about them, he said the girl Clarissa gave them to Godfrey as a gift. “She said he reminded her of the grandfather she always wished she knew.”
Godfrey does tend to bring that out in people.
So besides my usual stock of roots like sassafras and comfrey, arrowroot, motherwort, rose hips, oils of cinnamon and pine, holly, yellow ember flower, iron dust, ambrosia flowers, sulfur, carbon, and various other minerals, I now possess burdock leaves, wormgrass, a jar of horsehair, and three spider fangs. Oh, and a book about witches that I am tempted to use as kindling on the next cold night.
The castle is even more quiet than usual now as the days tick by into weeks. We are all wrapped up in our own thoughts. I am surprised when Alexander bursts into the lab late one afternoon, just as Freddy and I have figured out that mixing carbonate of copper with nettle oil will turn the fur on my arms a lovely shade of green.
“Riley! Stop what you are doing, you must heed my words. Do not come downstairs until tomorrow morning. I shall bring your meal up to you.”
“Why?” I pick up a rag dipped in water and attempt to scrub the color off my fur.
“Because we have a very important guest and he must not see you. Not yet.”
I stop scrubbing. Mother would never have a guest in the castle. Without our usual squad of servants, the place is quite messy. “A guest? Is Godfrey entertaining him?”
“No. We are. Mother, Father, and I.”
“Excuse me?”
“It is complicated,” he says. “You must trust us. If our plan works, Beauty will be arriving at our front door in little over a week!”
“Beauty! But I thought there was no way she would leave her family?”
“The less you know right now, the better. That way you will not slip up and say something you should not. But you must understand, this is our final chance. On my trip with Godfrey, a hundred girls must have turned down his invitation to meet the beast. He did not tell Beauty’s sister about you. The element of surprise is still on our side.”
“But I do not understand. The witch said the girl had to come willingly.”
“I am betting that she will.”
“But why would she do that?”
“Just put on your finest clothes tomorrow and be prepared to be a bit ruthless if it comes to that.”
“Ruthless?”
“Mother will explain everything in the morning. When you return to your chambers you will have to tiptoe. None of your usual pounding on the floors. Our guest must think he is alone in the castle. I have already instructed Godfrey to keep out of sight.”
“But I still —”
“And cover up that green fur.”
“But —”
The door of the laboratory swings shut. He is gone.
“Interesting,” Freddy says, nodding thoughtfully. “Very interesting.”
By morning, I have to fight the urge to pace the floor of my chambers while I wait for Mother to fetch me. It has been hard to stay quiet, especially now that the time for my appearance draws near. Mother slid a list of instructions under my door last night. I have grave doubts that I will be able to do what they ask of me, but I cannot let them down.
A moment later, the door opens a crack. “It is time,” she whispers. “Stand up tall. You tend to slouch.”
I straighten my back, feeling the fabric on my waistcoat straining. Luckily, it does not tear. I glance one last time at the parchment, which I have already committed to memory. With a deep breath, I head downstairs. Sitting on the couch, twisting his hat back and forth in his hands, is a man around Father’s age, although the deep lines on his face make him look much older. His overly large traveling
cloak does little to hide his thin frame. A small brown pack sits on the floor beside him, with a single red rose draped across the top.
He jumps up when he sees me. His eyes widen in fear, but he sticks out his hand and attempts to keep it from trembling. My instinct is to shake it, but Mother warned me not to do anything to put him at ease. He eventually pulls his hand back.
“Sir,” the man begins with a shaky voice. “I am truly sorry for intruding upon your castle. I had been given this address clearly by mistake, and after your guard alerted me to my error, I intended to return to my home, a long way from here. I picked a single rose from your beautiful garden for my daughter who asks for so little, and was about to climb back upon my horse when your guard invited me to rest by the fire.”
I know Godfrey had instructed Parker to do all this when Beauty’s father arrived, although our loyal guard must have hated leaving a stranger unattended in the castle. He will deserve a big raise when — or if — this ever ends.
The old man continues. “When I awoke from my nap, I did not see the guard — or anyone — until you came down just now. But a lavish feast had been laid out, so I partook of the meal and then slept once again. When I awoke this morning, the table had been cleared. I called out to my host to thank him or her, but no one appeared. When I tried the front door, it would not budge.”
He looks so confused and scared that I am finding it hard to begin my speech. A quick pinch on my backside from Alexander, and I am ready. I clear my throat and try to sound as imposing as possible, like Father when he has to give an unpleasant order. “Sir, you have come into my home, rested at my hearth, eaten of my food, and stolen from my garden. I cannot simply let you leave. I am a beast, you see. A price must be paid.”
His eyes widen. “But … but I have nothing to give. My luck as of late has been all bad.”
“Then you must live here and maintain my castle for me. You look like a strong worker.” That last part is clearly a fib, for he seems on his very last legs. “If you cannot do the labor, then it is off to the dungeons for you.” Another fib, of course, but he does not know that.
