The Salamander Spell (10 page)

Olivene spun around and glared at her daughter. “What are you doing here? Don’t just stand there staring like a gargoyle—come in and give me those toadstools.” Before Grassina could move, Olivene had crossed the room and snatched the bucket from her hand. “Here,” she said, thrusting the spoon at her. “Make yourself useful.”

While her mother examined each toadstool individually, Grassina stirred the viscous liquid, wrinkling her nose at the frothy, hairy scum that floated on its surface. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said.

“When I’m finished,” her mother grumbled. Then she sniffed another toadstool.

Light flashing in the corner of the room made Grassina turn her head. A lidded wicker basket sat on the floor, isolated from the rest of Olivene’s belongings. Tiny lights sparked through the gaps in the weave, like coals flaring in a dying fire. Suddenly, the basket fell on its side with a thump and began to roll. As it passed Olivene, she kicked it without looking up from what she was doing, sending it thudding into the wall. The basket buzzed angrily, then rolled back into the corner and flung itself upright.

“Let this be a lesson to you, girl,” Olivene told Grassina. “Never collect insects in a thunderstorm expecting to get more effective lightning bugs. The darn things spark, but they don’t have any real light. The crickets are the worst—it made them bad-tempered and smarter than they should be. Can’t do a thing with them!”

“Why did you choose crickets?”

“Bugs are bugs, aren’t they?” Glancing at the cauldron, Olivene said, “Watch what you’re doing!” and pointed a crooked finger at the bubbling liquid. Grassina looked down to see it burble and ooze over the rim. “Hit it!” shouted Olivene. “Use the spoon and whap it hard!” Grassina whapped the concoction with the spoon, sending droplets flying. The liquid stilled, then slurped back into the cauldron.

“What’s in this pot, anyway?” Grassina asked.

“None of your business!” Olivene snapped. Elbowing her daughter aside, the witch dropped in three carefully selected toadstools one at a time. When the third one was sucked in with a
glorp,
the liquid frothed as high as the rim of the pot before settling back down to a steady seethe.

Olivene’s long nose quivered when she leaned over the pot and sniffed.

“I really need to tell you something,” Grassina began.

Her mother held up her hand imperiously, saying, “Not now! Can’t you see that I’m busy?” After another deep sniff, she dumped the rest of the toadstools into the pot, crowing with delight when it turned a sickly shade of blue. While Grassina retreated to the doorway, Olivene took a grisly-looking hook off the wall and dipped it into the pot, pulling out a dripping stocking.

“If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself,” said Olivene, draping the stocking on a ring embedded in the wall. “That makes two pairs. Get a little potion on your clothes and suddenly no one wants to wash them for you. I was going to make you do it, but I decided that the wash water would work just fine as the base for my next potion. Hand me those leech lips and stand back. I should get a good reaction when I add them!”

Grassina studied the bottle labeled “Leech Lips.” Some of the little, brown, squiggly things inside smacked themselves while others smiled or pouted. She told herself that it was the water’s sloshing that made them move, but she wasn’t so sure.

“I came to tell you that werewolves attacked a village last night,” she said, handing the bottle to her mother.

Olivene’s eyes brightened. “Really? Where?”

“Darby-in-the-Woods. A man came to see you about it.”

“Did they kill any of the werewolves? Darby-in-the-Woods isn’t far from here. I could be there and back in two shakes of a snake’s tail.”

“I don’t think they did.”

“Then why are you telling me about it? Unless someone has collected a werewolf ’s whiskers or the last hair on the tip of its tail, I’m not interested.” Uncorking the bottle, Grassina held it over the cauldron and shook out a few blubbering lips. The liquid seethed for just a moment, then became as placid as a lake in winter. “Drat!” muttered Olivene.

“You’re the Green Witch,” said Grassina. “It’s your duty to protect the kingdom.”

“Duty schmooty! Do you see a ring on this finger?” Olivene shoved her hand under her daughter’s nose. “I’m no more the Green Witch than you are. If you don’t mind, and even if you do, I have to get back to work. Now scat! I don’t have time for all this tongue flapping.”

“If you’re not the Green Witch, then who’s going to protect the kingdom? And what should I tell the man? I’m sure he’s going to want . . .”

The basket filled with lightning bugs fell over with a
whump
—bursting open and letting all the bugs escape in a crawling, skittering, leaping, flying rush. “Now see what you’ve done?” shouted Olivene. “You’ve distracted me. It’s going to take hours to catch those pesky pests, and I still haven’t finished my laundry!”

“Maybe I could . . . ,” Grassina began.

“Get out!” her mother shrieked, taking off her shoe and hurling it at her daughter.

Grassina darted from the room, ducking when the second shoe sailed past her head. Olivene was still shouting at the insects as Grassina turned the corner, grateful that her mother had cast a shoe and not a spell.

“What’s the ruckus about?” King Aldrid asked from an open doorway.

Grassina stopped and turned. She hadn’t realized that her mother had claimed a room so close to her father’s. “Did you know that Mother is no longer the Green Witch? It makes sense, of course. I mean, the Green Witch is the most powerful and the nicest witch in the kingdom, and no one can claim that Mother is nice anymore. But if she isn’t, then who is? Do you think we should . . . Wait a minute. What’s wrong with you?” She took a step closer, noting his sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. “You look awful!”

“It’s good to see you, too,” he said, giving her a weak smile.

“I didn’t mean . . . I just . . . Are you all right?”

Her father had begun to cough so hard that he shook with the effort and had to look away until it was over. “I’ve seen better days,” he wheezed when he could talk again. “Why did you come to see your mother? Is something wrong?”

Grassina nodded. “A man came to tell us that werewolves attacked people in his village!”

“And your mother doesn’t intend to do anything about it, does she? Then I’d best see to it.”

“You can’t hunt werewolves. You’re ill!”

King Aldrid shook his head. “There won’t be any hunting involved. Werewolves turn back into their human form during the day, so my men and I will set traps and check them tomorrow. I was very adept at catching werewolves before I met your mother, but I haven’t had to trap one since I moved to Greater Greensward. There was no need with the Green Witch watching over the kingdom. We were spoiled when your mother protected us, but now that she isn’t doing that, we’ll have to handle it ourselves the way rulers of other kingdoms do.”

“But you should be resting.”

“It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine. A little fresh air will do me good.”

Grassina was worried. She followed her father out of the dungeon, returning to her own chamber while he sent for the men he intended to take with him. She already had the necessary plants dried and hanging from her ceiling, so it didn’t take long for her to mix a tonic for his cough. To her dismay, he and his men had already departed by the time she returned downstairs. With the tonic tucked safely in her purse, Grassina hurried to the stable and had her palfrey, Buttercup, saddled. Since she didn’t know the way to Darby-in-the-Woods, she was glad that the head groom insisted on accompanying her. Normally, she would have chatted with the groom as they rode, discussing the weather, the crops in the fields they passed, and any unusual plants they happened to see, but she was so worried about her father that she couldn’t think about anything else.

The sun was still climbing when they reached the point where the road to the village entered the forest. At first Buttercup seemed to enjoy the cooler air of the forest shade, pricking her ears and looking around with great curiosity, but after a time, she began to act nervous, startling at the smallest sound and snorting when the shade grew deeper. The groom’s normally placid horse also seemed uneasy, prancing sideways when a squirrel ran in front of him. Buttercup shied at a dark spot on the road, fighting the reins until Grassina brought her under control.

They reached Darby-in-the-Woods without further incident just as her father and his men were riding out of the village in the opposite direction. Of all of Chartreuse’s suitors, only Prince Limelyn had elected to accompany the king. The two royals rode side by side through the strangely quiet village, the single road dividing the cluster of cottages devoid of children, dogs, or geese to challenge a stranger’s approach.

Here and there anxious faces peered from doorways, but no one came out to speak to Grassina as she passed by. A silent group of men stood in the shadow of the last cottage watching the king and his knights, turning their attention to Grassina only after Buttercup whinnied to the other horses. One of the villagers, a tall man with long dark hair, stared at Grassina openly without any of the deference commoners usually paid to a princess. He made her feel so uneasy that she urged her horse to a gallop, joining her father in a shower of dust and pebbles.

“Grassina!” he said, turning his horse to face her. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” she replied. “I brought you this.” Reaching into her leather sack, she drew out the bottle of tonic and held it up for him to see. “It’s for your cough.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but that was neither necessary nor wise. These woods aren’t safe if there are werewolves around.”

“But you said that werewolves were active only at night.”

“That isn’t the point. Men from the village are already trying to track them down. Any hunters still out here will be using whatever means they can. It’s during times like these that I particularly want you to stay close to the castle. Fear can make people do terrible things.

The king looked around, letting his eyes fall on two of his men. “Stay behind and see that we’re not followed. There were no dogs in that village, which probably means that the werewolves have already disposed of them. Werewolves hate dogs because dogs hate werewolves and can find them when no one else can. I would have brought my own if I’d been thinking straight. No matter now. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Some of the villagers may have been turned into werewolves already and would be happy to see where we place our traps. And as for you,” he said, looking at his daughter, “you’ll have to stay with me now. We’ll be returning to the castle as soon as we’ve dug some . . .” King Aldrid broke off when a deep, wracking cough made him close his eyes and grip his saddle to keep his balance.

Grassina watched with concern until her father’s cough subsided. “Please try the tonic,” she said, uncorking the bottle and handing it to him.

“Did you make this or did your mother?” he asked, sniffing it suspiciously.

“I did. It should help calm your cough.”

“You’re a very thoughtful girl,” he said before taking a sip from the bottle. “Just like your mother used to be,” he added, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

No one spoke as they rode into the forest, leaving the village and the two knights behind. They hadn’t gone far when a horse whinnied deeper in the woods. The party stopped to wait while Prince Limelyn and three knights rode off to investigate, returning with an armored destrier, its head hanging as it limped across the forest floor. “I think that’s Clarence’s horse,” said Grassina. Even in the shade of the tall trees she could see that the armor of the riderless horse was no longer bright and shiny, but was smudged with something dark.

Slipping off her mare, Grassina ran to the destrier and reached for his bridle where a singed scrap of pale green ribbon still dangled. A smear of black came off on her finger. It was soot. As her father rode up, she raised her hand to show him. Rubbing her thumb and forefinger together, she said in a subdued voice, “I guess there really was a dragon after all.”